Return to the Isle of the Lost Page 4

  M-A-K-E-U-P was his next guess. He sighed with relief when it didn’t work, and E-V-I-L-L-I-V-E-S turned up nothing either.

  Gathering his courage, he decided to try one more password that would link the messages to their parents.

  D-A-L-M-A-T-I-A-N-S, he typed.

  The screen froze and for a moment Carlos was relieved that his hunch was incorrect, but after a second it came to life again, and green letters began scrolling across the screen. He’d hacked it. He was inside.

  “Oh no,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Evie, squinting at the screen. It was a Web site unlike any they’d seen before. It was more primitive and crudely designed, with no pretty icons or bright colors, only windows of black screens with green letters.

  “The Dark Net,” Carlos whispered, still staring at the screen, unwilling to believe it was true. “There’s a rumor going around that after the dome broke when Maleficent escaped, the Isle of the Lost was able to start up a secret online network of their own. And I’m not talking about the kind of Internet where people share funny kitten videos.”

  “But we don’t have access to the Internet on the Isle. We’re cut off, remember?” said Mal.

  “Maybe something happened when the dome broke open,” said Evie.

  “Anything’s possible,” said Carlos. “Especially during that time when the dome let magic back onto the island.” He looked up at them. “Supposedly since the Dark Net is effectively hidden from Auradon’s servers, it’s a way for the villains on the Isle of the Lost to communicate with each other. Think about it, on the Dark Net, they can hatch evil plots without anyone here knowing anything about it.”

  “So they use the Dark Net to send each other evil e-mails?” joked Mal.

  “And post evil insta-messages.” Evie giggled.

  “I’m serious!” said Carlos. “It’s not funny.”

  “You’re right, you’re right,” said Mal, sobering. “With an online network, they can organize their evil schemes more effectively.”

  “Yeah, exactly, so I’m going to poke around, see what else I can find,” said Carlos.

  “But, Carlos, you just said the villains are behind it!” Evie cried. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I would say Danger is my middle name,” said Carlos cheerfully, warming up to the task as his dog slid from his lap to nestle at his feet contentedly. Now that he had a new thing to explore, he didn’t feel as frightened. He could do this. “But my middle name is actually Oscar.”

  He saw their faces and muttered as he typed, “Hey, it could be worse, right? Mal, your middle name is Bertha.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Anyway, see what you can find,” Mal said with a crisp nod. “But I think we have to make plans to return no matter what.”

  “Return? To where?” Carlos asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

  “To the Isle of the Lost, of course,” Mal said as she rolled up her sleeves.

  “But why? We might be falling right into a trap,” Evie argued. “Isn’t that just what they want us to do, whoever they are?”

  “Well, we can’t stay here—we need to find out what the villains are up to back home,” Mal said. “Plus, I’m not going to be intimidated by whoever’s sending these messages. We have to take the risk, or something like what happened at the Coronation could happen again.”

  “We sure do,” said Jay, who’d appeared at the doorway, his face bruised and one eye swollen shut, holding up a crumpled piece of paper covered in purple ink. “Did you guys get one of these today about returning to the Isle of the Lost?”

  “Old-fashioned note! Of course!” said Carlos, who couldn’t help but be pleased at the cleverness of their mysterious nemesis.

  “Sort of,” said Mal as the other two nodded. Jay looked relieved.

  “What happened to your eye? Are you all right?” asked Evie. “Do you need Mal to conjure an ice pack for that?”

  “Tourney practice. It’s nothing,” Jay said, waving off their concern.

  “But as I was saying, we have to go back home, because we all know the villains won’t rest until Auradon is reduced to rubble and we’re all minions,” Mal said fiercely, as if she would take on an army of them right now.

  “Goblins,” said Jay. “Maleficent had goblins for minions, why doesn’t anyone remember that?”

  After the group left Carlos to explore the Dark Net to see if he could find any more information on the villains’ plans and whereabouts, Mal decided to visit her mother. It bothered her too much to think that the mysterious M in her note might actually be Maleficent and she wanted to see for herself that her mother was still a lizard. It was late when she arrived in the library, almost time for lights-out. The royal guards, trained in imperial battle tactics by Mulan, stood in front of the double-locked doors and barred her way.

  “Really? You know it’s me,” Mal said. “Open up. Family visitors are allowed under the royal decree,” she reminded them like she did every time she grudgingly visited.

  The guard on the left grinned. “Oh yes, I see the resemblance now, I think it’s the forked tongue,” he joked, like he always did.

  “Ha-ha,” said Mal, pushing her way inside.

  The guard on the right grunted. “You have five minutes.”

  “I know,” she said as they locked the door behind her and she made her way to the pedestal in the middle of the room with a glass dome sitting on top of it.

  When she was a little girl, Mal had been very frightened of her mother. Maleficent was not the help-with-homework, bake-cookies type, after all. She was more the fearsome mistress who sent you on hopeless quests—like the one to retrieve her Dragon’s Eye scepter—and she didn’t take no for an answer.

  Even so, these days Mal found it hard to believe she had once feared Maleficent. It was difficult to feel scared of something so small.

  But the anonymous message from M had spooked her. Mal stared at her mother, who appeared to be sleeping. Under the glass dome, she looked like any ordinary lizard, harmless, cute even. But Mal knew better. No matter how harmless the reptile looked, it was still the Mistress of Darkness at heart.

  So did Maleficent have some secret talent they didn’t know about? Would she able to transform back into herself after transforming to the itty-bitty size of her heart? Was the lizard in there really Maleficent? What if Maleficent was already gone?

  Mal stared hard at the tiny purple creature that, when awake, had green eyes just like her mother to see if she could sense something different about it. But the snoozing reptile looked exactly the same as it did the last time she’d visited.

  “Hey, Mom, can I talk to you for a second?” she said, careful not to tap on the glass. She’d heard lizards didn’t like that.

  The lizard was still, not even a flick of her tongue.

  The handful of times when she’d visited Maleficent in the past, it was like this. She never got a reaction of any sort. Mal always found it hard to accept that this small, tiny creature held the soul of the most powerful villain in all the land.

  “Did you send me this?” she asked, holding up her phone with the mysterious text. “Are you M?”

  No response.

  “It’s only the two of us here, Mom, you can tell me if you’ve been changing back. In fact, it would be kind of nice to see you in your nonreptilian form,” she said. Mal still wasn’t above a white lie now and then.

  There was no sign that the creature even understood a word she was saying.

  Mal sighed. “I guess if you were planning something, you wouldn’t share it with me anyway, right? Seeing as I’m the reason you’re here in the first place.” She rubbed her eyes. “But one day I’ll find a way to get you out. You just have to promise me that you won’t try to destroy everything again.” Mal paused. “Okay, fine, you can cover Sleeping Beauty’s castle in thorny vines. Have a little fun.”

  The lizard remained as still as the rock underneath it. The lights-out bell chimed and Mal reluc
tantly got ready to leave. “Fine, don’t tell me anything. I knew this was stupid. You can’t even talk.”

  Just then, the floor buckled underneath her from yet another earthquake. Mal swayed and struggled to keep her balance, her heart lurching in her chest. When it was over, she stared at the lizard suspiciously. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but why do I have a feeling you’re behind this too?”

  Someone was skulking outside the door when Mal walked out, and she immediately tensed, prepared for an ambush. But there was no surprise attack, and the stranger had a familiar face.

  “Hey, Freddie,” she said, relieved to see her old friend from the Isle, and slightly embarrassed by her reaction.

  “Hey, Mal, what’s up?” said Freddie, graciously pretending not to notice how rattled she seemed.

  “Nothing much,” said Mal, then a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Freddie, did you get any weird messages or e-mails today?”

  “Weird how?” asked Freddie.

  “Anonymous weird?” said Mal. “Like maybe from someone from the Isle of the Lost?”

  Freddie shook her head. “No. I don’t think anyone even knows I’m at Auradon actually. Not our old gang back on the Isle, that’s for sure. They probably all just think I’m cutting classes again.”

  “Right,” said Mal. She’d only been in Auradon for a short time, but she’d almost forgotten how lax the rules had been back at Dragon Hall. But what Freddie said was interesting. Unlike the four of them, Freddie hadn’t received a message to return to the island, which meant whoever had sent those notes only wanted the four original villain kids. But why?

  “You got some kind of anonymous note?” asked Freddie.

  Mal decided she could trust her. “Yeah, saying I should return to the Isle of the Lost, and Jay, Carlos, and Evie too. Isn’t that weird?”

  “Totally weird. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know yet,” said Mal. “We’re trying to decide.”

  “Well, maybe you should….Go back to the island, I mean. See what’s going on back there. I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

  “You really think so?” asked Mal.

  Freddie shrugged. “I know if I got one I’d want to see who sent it to me.” Then she changed the subject and motioned to the heavily bolted doors and the armed guards standing sentry in front of them. “Is that where they keep your…?”

  “Yep, that’s lizard rock,” said Mal. “The one and only home of Maleficent these days.”

  “Phew, if that ever happened to my dad, you can be sure I wouldn’t be sticking around just so he could yell at me when he turned back.” Freddie shook her head, her pigtails bouncing. “And you shouldn’t either. You know if she ever gets out of there, she’ll come after you first.”

  Mal bit her lip. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

  Freddie suddenly brightened. “But she’ll probably never get out, so you’ll be fine. By the way, if you do go back to the Isle, say hi to my dad for me.” She clapped Mal on the back and went on her way, casting long shadows against the walls.

  Camelot Heights was located in the northern part of the kingdom, and the city of Camelot was in its center, flanked by Sherwood Forest on one side and Eden on the other. Ben had made good on his promise and had been traveling all day with Merlin and Artie in the royal carriage, with a retinue of servants and footmen following behind in a regular coach. Ben decided not to use the usual king-size motorcade since Camelot’s roads were too rough for cars, as most of its residents traveled by horse-drawn vehicles.

  As soon as they set off, the old wizard was already snoring in the backseat, but Artie was awake and excited, trying out all the features of the carriage interior and playing with the sunroof, sliding it open and closed on a whim. “Dad won’t let us update our carriage,” he explained as he put on road-canceling headphones (carriage travel was notoriously loud due to wheel rumble) and eagerly flipped through every channel offered on the television screen installed above the back bench.

  Ben settled in, amused, and let Artie have his fun.

  The journey from Auradon City was a long one, taking them up to Summerlands and past Snow White’s castle, where they would stop for the night before making their way into the Enchanted Wood, then across the river through acres of forest lands, and finally into Camelot. Ben tried to relax in his seat, and sent a few texts to Mal to let her know he was thinking of her. No luck, she wasn’t responding, and so he closed his eyes and tried to rest.

  A few hours after Ben, Merlin, and Artie left Snow White’s palace the next morning, King Arthur’s Castle crested high on the hill, proud and tall, its red towers glowing in the sun.

  “Home,” said Artie excitedly. “Looks like they knew we were coming.” The turrets were flying both the Pendragon banner and Ben’s beast-head sigil.

  “I sent Archimedes ahead with the news so they could prepare,” said Merlin, meaning his pet owl. He put his rumpled wizard’s hat back on his head and scratched his beard. “What in Auradon is going on here?” he said as the castle gates opened for the royal entourage.

  Ben yawned and took a look outside the window. The entire courtyard was filled with tents and crudely constructed shelters. “Is it always this crowded here?” he asked as they disembarked.

  “No,” said an irritated Merlin, stepping off the carriage and, in his haste, stumbling over his robes. “Something must have happened.”

  Artie jumped down, and Ben followed, eager to stretch his legs after the long ride. They were greeted by quite a sight—and odor. The scent of roasting meat and smoke filled the air as people huddled around unruly fire pits. The people of Camelot preferred to live as they always had, and eschewed many modern conveniences. All well and good, thought Ben, except a little deodorant never hurt anyone. It smelled like the Middle Ages in here.

  “It looks like the villagers have moved from their homes to seek protection behind the castle walls,” said Merlin, frowning. “The creature must have struck again,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Make way for the king, make way,” Ben’s royal guards ordered, clearing a path through the crowd to the entrance to the palace.

  “King Ben!” the people cheered as men bowed their heads and women curtsied. “The King of Auradon has come!” he heard people whisper. “Hope has arrived at last!”

  He waved back cheerfully, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering underneath his confident smile. His subjects depended on him, and now he understood why his father had always projected strength and self-assurance. Apparently it wasn’t as easy as he had made it seem.

  “This way,” said Merlin when they were inside the castle proper, where the great hall was also teeming with people lying in bedrolls and hay. The castle’s lord chamberlain rushed to meet them. He bowed to Ben and whispered in Merlin’s ear.

  “They have prepared rooms for you in the east wing,” Merlin said. “Arthur apologizes that he is not here to welcome you, but he is still out in the countryside, urging his people to head to the safety of Camelot, and expects to be delayed for quite some time. He hopes that in his place, you shall meet with his knights, who are aware of the latest developments in the situation.”

  “Thank you,” said Ben. “Please tell Arthur no apologies are necessary and I look forward to speaking with his men.”

  “Sire, shall I go ahead and unpack and prepare your wardrobe?” asked Lumiere, who was traveling with Ben as his personal valet. The old Frenchman looked askance at the unwashed hordes and was probably wishing they were all back in Auradon’s much more comfortable palace right now.

  “Please do,” said Ben as Merlin and Artie took their leave.

  “Shall I set out the royal armor, Sire?” asked Lumiere, meaning the old-fashioned metal one that was once his father’s. “We brought it out of storage, it’s polished and oiled.”

  “No need, I think,” said Ben, inwardly grimacing at the thought of putting on the tin-can suit. “I might be in Camel
ot, but I am the king of this century, not the twelfth.”

  “Very good, Sire,” said Lumiere with a smile as bright as candlesticks in the dark.

  Ben chose to wear the same royal-blue suit he’d worn to his Coronation, with the gold epaulets and Auradon’s crest on the sleeves. Lumiere had polished his traveling crown, so he looked and felt very much the King of Auradon as he was welcomed to the legendary Round Table, where Camelot’s knights had gathered. The room itself was rather plain, with unadorned stone walls and dim lighting, but Ben couldn’t help but feel excited when he pulled up a heavy wooden chair at one of the most famous tables in history.

  The knights were a good-natured, chivalrous bunch, and Ben felt right at home in their company as they chatted about the latest pro-tourney scores. But the discussion took a serious turn when Merlin called the meeting to order and talk soon became heated as they argued about how best to deal with the creature plaguing their land.

  “Yesterday the thing set fire to the forest, creating such a blaze that it almost reached Sherwood!” a young knight said indignantly. “We need to destroy it before it destroys anything else!”

  “Too many people have lost their farms and houses to this thing,” said another. “Good that Merlin is back, he can use his magic to capture it.”

  “Ahem,” said Merlin, polishing his glasses with the edge of his long sleeve. “Unfortunately, we don’t have permission from the king do to so. King Ben, I mean.”

  Ben looked around the table at their distressed faces and cleared his throat. “As you know, it is our belief that the use of magic at this level can be dangerous, and so I’m here to observe the situation before we decide to change the policies that have kept Auradon safe and peaceful so long.”

  “You know what’s dangerous? The creature! That’s dangerous!” cried a knight. “Sneaks around in the dark of night, taking livestock and setting fire to everything before disappearing in a cloud of smoke!”

  “Merlin tells me that no one in Camelot has actually seen this creature?” Ben asked. “Is that still true?”