Island of Legends

Their island was being attacked. The palace, with its opening in the wall, was vulnerable. Quill, with its entrance into Artimé, was vulnerable. And here he sat.

Aaron froze mid-chew, and then he shoved the chair back, hurried to the door, and ran out of the house. He turned up the road and headed toward the palace. “Hurry up,” he said, jiggling the portcullis impatiently as he waited for the guards to open it, and sprinting the rest of the way up the drive. He ran to the opening he’d made in the forty-foot-tall wall that surrounded Quill and peered through it, careful to hide his body in case the attackers were already closing in.

His eyes darted all around the downward slope on the other side of the wall, and then, seeing nothing on land, he swept his gaze over the sea. A dozen ships sailed not far off shore, heading around the curve of the land toward Artimé. Aaron gasped at the sight. He’d never seen anything like it. His body was frozen to the spot as he watched the vessels inch toward his brother’s section of the island. They were headed to Artimé. For a rare moment, Aaron felt a pang of compassion. And for the briefest time he actually thought, Perhaps I should help them.

But the moment passed quickly, and Aaron realized that his first order of business was to protect Quill. He would close up the space in the wall and build a barricade in front of the entrance to Artimé.

Feverishly Aaron reached for the first block, too scared to wait for a team of Necessaries to assemble and do the work, and placed it in the opening in the wall. He hoisted a second block, and a third, pushing them tightly together, scraping his knuckles and drawing blood, muttering to himself as he filled in the space.

As he worked, Aaron realized something very important about the former ruler of Quill: The High Priest Justine had been right all along about the dangers beyond the wall. She had protected Quill for fifty years without a single incident until the Unwanteds botched things up. And she’d done that by closing off Quill to the outside world.

Now, by opening up the wall and allowing his people to mingle with the Unwanteds, Aaron had broken the very best rule Justine had made, leaving the people of Quill vulnerable.

How terribly, awfully, utterly foolish Aaron was to have doubted his hero.

Weapons of Mass Confusion

At daybreak, the entire community of Artimé assembled throughout the main floor of the mansion, in rows on the stairs, and on the balcony.

“Good morning,” Alex said crisply from the front window near the door that faced the sea. “It’s a bit crowded in here, but as Clive explained in your instructions, we have decided not to go outside until we know just how the people of Warbler plan to attack us.

“I’d like you all to know that an hour ago, we attempted a peacekeeping mission by sending Gunnar Haluki out to speak with the Warblerans, but they would have nothing to do with him unless he gave up our two Warbler natives as well as Samheed, Meghan, and Lani. Of course that was out of the question. And try as he might, he was unable to get any sense of their method of attack.”

A murmur arose and Alex paused, glancing Sky. He went on. “Haluki returned to us, and we now have Simber stationed on the lawn. Please stay quiet and wait for me to give your team leaders the signal to exit the mansion and take your stations.”

Alex turned his attention to the window, watching as a fleet of twelve ships approached. “At least there aren’t a hundred,” he remarked in a low voice to Florence. “There must have been several lights on each ship.” The Warbler ships dwarfed Artimé’s own pirate vessel, which Captain Ahab, the mildly insane statue, had moved to the lagoon for safekeeping.

“It seems like this could be an easy battle,” Florence said. “But that’s exactly what worries me. Queen Eagala is not a fool.”

“And so we wait,” Alex said.

» » « «

The ships sat in front of Artimé for at least thirty minutes without a single thing happening. The people inside the mansion whispered and shifted and tried not to bump each other.

Sky and Crow grew more nervous as time passed. Soon Sky sidled up to Alex. “They’re up to something,” she murmured. “I’m sure of it.”

“We’re ready,” he said, not taking his eyes off the ships. “We’re taking it seriously. I promise.” He pressed his lips together, then added, “Please do whatever it takes to keep you and Crow safe. If they come after you, take the tube to the library and the steps up to the third floor. That’s the safest place.”

Sky frowned. “We want to help.”

“Sky,” Alex said in earnest, “it would really help me to know that you are safe. The last thing we need is to have to rescue you from Warbler again. We have other places to go and people to rescue . . . like your mother.”

“I know.” Sky closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “You’re right, of course. But we’re still helping. We need to.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Alex knew she needed to help to prove that she was loyal to Artimé—even though no one doubted it.

“That’s fine,” Alex said. “We want you to help, but I also need to trust you. You can fight. But do the right thing and hide if necessary.”

“If necessary,” Sky agreed. “Got that, Crow?”

Crow nodded.

At that moment, a large growl from outside the mansion turned into a full-on roar, making the mansion’s windows vibrate. Alex’s gaze darted from one ship to the next as large wooden planks quickly rose up from every deck. A dozen loud thwapps peppered the air, and the giant arms swung toward Artimé, releasing objects into the sky.