Return of the Forgotten

by Lisa Fiedler

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  To Shannon and Ricky.

  My very best friends.

  PROLOGUE

  Some time ago, in the subway tunnels beneath Brooklyn, New York . . .

  THE JOURNEY TO ATLANTIA FROM the upland world had been grueling. But the four brown mice pups had not questioned their father’s plan. He’d been telling them about his dream to colonize the Forgotten Place, a splendid and magnificent wonderland, for so long that it had become their dream too.

  And their mother had been just as excited to begin their new life below the city as their father had . . . until the trap had taken her away.

  The pups had been heartbroken, of course. But their father had told them they would have to be strong, and carry on. It was the best tribute their mother could have asked for. So they’d mustered their courage and went on with the plan.

  And now they’d made it. All the way to the famed underground city of Atlantia.

  They’d had a frightening moment at the entry gate, though, when a large cat had threatened to eat them for breakfast, but their father, Fiorello, was a gifted politician and he’d talked the cat into allowing them entrance not only to the city but the palace as well.

  “I-I-I don’t l-l-like it here,” the smallest of the litter, Ira, stammered to his brother as the four siblings followed their father up the steps to the sprawling home of Emperor Titus.

  Their sister, Celeste, put a paw on Ira’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” she said sweetly. “When Father gets permission from the emperor to colonize the Forgotten Place, we’ll have the best home in all of the tunnels.”

  “She’s right,” said Hazel as she flicked her tail back and forth.

  “I liked our old h-h-home, upland, where I could p-p-play under the mayor’s desk,” Ira protested.

  “Shhh,” hissed the oldest of the siblings. “Don’t let Father hear you. This new city is his dream. We must help him realize it. And besides”—he gave his nervous brother a smile—“if it works, you and I will be princes, and Hazel and Celeste will be princesses. Royalty!”

  At this, Ira smiled.

  When they entered the grand lobby of the Atlantian palace, a uniformed rat escorted them to the doors of the throne room. The towering doors were slightly ajar, open just enough for the oldest pup to peek inside. A lavish room and a gilded chair, and upon it, an imposing rat with a scarred snout. Emperor Titus, who, it would seem, held this little mouse’s future in his paws.

  Looking up at Titus was his empress, wearing a shimmering gown, a tiara, and a chain of blue stones. Beside her was a pup. He had a rugged look about him, despite the elegant purple vest and fancy britches he wore. No doubt he was a royal prince, the Romanus heir. He was young, but his strength and pride were already beginning to show in his carriage. He held a handsome sword but squirmed and fidgeted in those ridiculous trousers. The mouse couldn’t help but laugh; the rat prince looked as though he really hated those pants.

  The mouse also noticed that not only did the prince look uncomfortable, but he was the only young rodent present. I wonder where the rest of the emperor’s litter is, the mouse wondered.

  “The emperor is just finishing a meeting with his family,” the servant explained. “He will see you shortly.”

  The mouse leaned closer to the door, straining to hear.

  “Titus, I am beginning to have some suspicions,” the empress said. “I know your politics, mysterious as they are, have brought us prosperity and safety. But something has changed. Something feels wrong to me.”

  “I feel it too, Pop,” the rat prince piped up.

  The emperor made a tsk tsk sound and shook his head. “Prince Zucker, you forget yourself. I may be your father, but I am also the royal liege. You should remember to address me as such.”

  The prince rolled his eyes. “Fine . . . Your Highness. I agree with Mother. This whole treaty stinks! If you would only let me go out into the tunnels . . .”

  “I forbid it! You are only a child.”

  The prince ground his teeth. “Well, I won’t be a child forever. And someday I’m going to do it! Someday, when I’m older, I’m going to get out of this city and—”

  “Silence!” Titus turned a cool look to his wife. “Perhaps your time would be better spent, Conselyea, teaching our only son some manners, instead of worrying your pretty little head over things like treaties and politics.”

  “Titus,” the empress said, more desperate this time. “Let me go to Queen Felina. Let me talk to her. I think perhaps she has not been honest with you. I think there might be things you do not know.”

  “I know everything!” the emperor assured her. Then the intimidating rat turned back to his son. “You are never to leave the walls of this city, is that understood? You are never to venture into the Great Beyond.”

  The prince hesitated, then nodded. But his expression said that he did not intend to keep that promise for very long. The mouse suspected the rat pup would bide his time; he’d wait until he’d grown just a little bit larger—and perhaps braver—but eventually he would slip outside Atlantia’s walls against his father’s wishes.

  “And you, my lady,” Titus said, smiling at his wife. “I urge you not to bother yourself with these ‘suspicions,’ as you call them. And do not, under any circumstances, attempt to make contact with Queen Felina.”

  “Why?” the prince huffed. “Because she’s a vicious, untrustworthy beast?”

  “Because she is a busy monarch!” the emperor shot back. “Just like I am. Which is why I am going to ask you to leave me to my business now.” He frowned at his son. “Zucker, to the schoolroom. And then to sword practice. I will be checking with your teachers regarding your progress.”

  With a wave the emperor rat sent his family on their way.

  As the empress and the prince exited the throne room, the prince (stomping indignantly) bumped into the oldest mouse pup, knocking him off his feet.

  He gave the mouse an apologetic look and offered a paw. “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  But the mouse did not accept the paw. Knock me down, will you? he thought, scrambling to his feet unaided. Soon I’m going to be just as much a prince as you are. Then you’ll think twice about bumping into me! The mouse pup gave the rat prince a steely look, then turned away.

  “Fine, whatever,” grumbled Prince Zucker with a shrug. After offering a polite bow to the rest of the mouse litter, he left.

  “He’s so handsome,” Hazel whispered to Celeste.

  “And r-r-regal,” Ira added.

  The palace servant nodded to Fiorello. “The emperor will see you now.”

  Fiorello smiled at his litter. “You pups wait for me out here,” he said, his eyes dancing with anticipation and hope. “This is going to be the beginning of something big, kids!”

  The sisters squealed with delight; even little Ira looked excited. “B-b-big!” he stuttered, smiling.

  Fiorello drew himself up and strode into the audience chamber. Again, the eldest peered around the edge of the door to listen.

  “Welcome, mouse,” said Titus in a haughty tone. “I hear you have come from the daylight world to request my assistance in colonizing an abandoned station somewhere far across the water.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Fiorello said with a deep, respectful
bow. “And I believe that if you and I work together, we can accomplish truly marvelous things.”

  Titus was silent for a long moment, strumming his gnarled paws on the arm of his luxurious throne. “Tell me your plans, sir. I find I am very interested in what you have to say.”

  As his father began to explain his careful strategy to the rat liege, the mouse pup felt a surge of pride.

  Because he knew that his father was about to change their lives forever. He knew that, from this moment forward, nothing would ever be the same.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THEY STOOD ON A LEDGE far above the city with Atlantia sparkling below.

  Sparkling and growing still, thought Hopper; the metropolis was improving and expanding, it seemed, every minute of every day.

  “Tell me again how Atlantia came to be,” came a sweet voice from beside him.

  Hopper smiled and looked down into the snapping black eyes of his goddaughter, the princess Hope.

  “Well,” he began, delighted by the tiny rat’s interest in learning her own history, “Atlantia was the dream of your grandfather, the late emperor Titus. He was an ambitious upland rat from Brooklyn, New York.”

  Hope shuddered. “But he was nasty!”

  “He was misguided,” Hopper corrected, but this was being generous. The truth was that as emperor, Titus had made a host of extremely poor choices, and countless innocent rodents had suffered because of his politics. It was also true that Titus had taken a forgotten subway platform deep beneath the borough of Brooklyn and transformed it into the spectacular city that lay before them now. But to maintain this prosperity, he had been forced to spend most of his reign sacrificing unsuspecting tunnel wanderers to the evil cat Queen Felina. Titus justified his own evil as being necessary to buy peace for Atlantia.

  In the end, he paid a much greater price.

  But Hopper did not like to discuss such gruesome details with his little friend. Instead he told her a far more palatable version of the story.

  “Long ago, Titus happened upon this abandoned platform and chose it as the site on which to build his dazzling city. Under Titus’s leadership, Atlantia bloomed into a great civilization.”

  “But my grandfather was hiding a dark secret,” Hope cried, knowing the story by heart.

  “Yes he was.” Hopper gave her a solemn nod. “A secret that brought a great deal of pain to many . . . including himself. But thanks to your mother and father . . .”

  “And you! The Chosen One!”

  Hopper blushed slightly. “Right . . . thanks to all of us, and the rebels and the refugees, Titus was overthrown, and then, not long after, Felina, too, was defeated, putting an end to the brutality and the tyranny.”

  “But in the aftermath of battle Atlantia fell to ruins,” Hope gushed, her eyes brimming with intelligence and excitement. “Now you and the emperor and empress—”

  Hopper grinned. “Otherwise known as your mommy and daddy. You know they do not wish to be called by such titles anymore, now that Atlantia’s government is shifting away from a monarchy to something more democratic and fair.”

  Hope rolled her eyes and pouted. “I know. I also know that that means they don’t want me to wear beautiful crowns and gowns and jewels, like my grandmamma, the empress Conselyea, did.”

  “In the scheme of things, crowns and gowns don’t count for much,” Hopper reminded her.

  “But I like being a princess.”

  “I know, little one, but your parents would much rather you liked being a good and wise leader instead.” Hopper patted her between the ears. “They are determined to see Atlantia rise again, so it can welcome all rodents and offer them protection within its walls. And without any dark secrets this time. Come along, now.”

  As they started toward the palace, Hopper turned his attention back to the bustle of the city below. There he saw progress. Mice working beside rats working beside squirrels working beside chipmunks. Atlantia was on its way to once again becoming the magnificent place it had been the first time he’d seen it. After many long months of thrilling innovation and intensive labor, the underground urban masterpiece was nearly complete; the city was thriving again.

  But it was more than just structural and commercial changes that Emperor Zucker and Empress Firren were striving for. They had an entirely new vision of the way Atlantia should be governed, and to this end, their empire was in the midst of great political improvements as well.

  Citizens could now vote on civic decisions, and express their ideas at public hearings. Zucker had gotten the idea from a book in Titus’s library. He called it a “republic,” and together he and Firren were determined to make it a reality for Atlantia.

  But they understood that even positive change took time, and they respected the fact that their subjects needed to get used to the idea.

  So they stopped wearing their opulent jewels and elegant clothing. Zucker wore the same workaday attire his subjects did (which he found far more comfortable than his royal garb), and Firren always donned her beloved Rangers tunic. They requested that the Atlantians call them by name, not title.

  Even still, the rodents insisted on bowing and curtsying to them and calling them His and Her Highness. The habit, it seemed, was difficult to break.

  It seemed strange to Hopper that the rodents needed to be convinced of something that was in their own best interests, but there it was. He wondered: Did they believe that outward finery and glitz represented ability and competence? That was exactly the kind of superficiality Titus had relied upon to justify his authority. And look how that turned out!

  In truth, when it came to governing, Hopper knew that it was what was inside a rodent that counted. The character, not the crown, was what defined a ruler.

  Sadly, little Hope did not yet understand this particular truth, but Hopper wasn’t worried. She was still very young and she had many things to learn. At the moment, his darling godchild might be easily dazzled by her empress grandmamma’s old tiaras and dresses (which she’d determinedly dug out of the palace basement and claimed for her own), but he truly believed she’d come to understand the value of invisible things like honesty, loyalty, and integrity. He was confident that she and her four littermates would one day step up to take part in the wonderful new government their parents were working so hard to set in motion.

  This gave Hopper great joy indeed.

  But mingled with his joy was the faintest prickle of sadness. It brought to mind his own littermates . . . his brother and sister. The last time he’d stood upon this ledge, he’d had no idea what his own future held and he’d been desperate to know what had become of Pinkie and Pup.

  He knew well enough where Pinkie was now—safe behind the gray wall of their ancestral village, ruling the Mūs citizens with her newfound wisdom and benevolence. To Hopper’s great relief, Pinkie had undergone a change of heart after discovering that their father, the legendary rebel Dodger, was still alive. She was still given to grumbling and bossiness, but she was no longer angry or unkind. Dodger split his time between assisting Pinkie in ruling the Mūs, and advising Zucker here in Atlantia. Hopper was thrilled about Pinkie’s new outlook.

  But Pup. Pup was another story entirely.

  Where in these vast tunnels their diminutive sibling had taken himself off to still remained a mystery. And what Pup might be up to was anybody’s guess.

  “Uncle Hopper! Look!”

  “What is it, Hope?” Hopper asked, shaking off his dark thoughts. “What do you see?”

  “Over there!” Hope leaned so far toward the rim of the ledge that Hopper had to lunge forward to grasp the hood of her tiny pink cloak (a gift from Pinkie, of course). “In the market square! That chipmunk is selling whirligigs! Can I please have a whirligig? I can, can’t I? I can have anything I want—after all, I am a crown princess of Atlantia!”

  “Hope,” said Hopper, gently but firmly, “it’s wrong to demand things just because you happened to be born to Zucker and Firren. You should focus on earning
the things you want.”

  Hope gave him a pout. “But I didn’t demand. I asked politely.” She gave a heavy sigh. “So . . . no whirligig, then?”

  Hopper chuckled. “I didn’t say that. I only meant that if you do get one, it won’t be because you are entitled to it as a princess. It will be because your parents and I like to see you happy and because you’ve earned it. But for now the whirligig will have to wait. You know you’re expected in the schoolroom.”

  Hope let out a little snort. “Do I have to go? The tutor smells funny and my brothers and sisters pick on me. And there’s no one else to play with.”

  Hopper smiled. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but you can take comfort in the fact that soon you’ll all be enrolled in the public school,” he promised. “Your mama is determined to see that happen sooner than later. It’s just a matter of getting it built.”

  “Well, it can’t happen soon enough for me!” she huffed. “My siblings all think they’re so smart!”

  “You’re just as smart as they are.”

  She smiled at the compliment, then frowned again. “Not as smart as Brighton is. She’s a genius. They call her Bright-one. Of course, she never has any fun.”

  Hopper laughed. “She is the serious one of the litter, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Hope agreed. “And Verrazano is the great leader and talented swordsman. Fiske is the clown but also a philosopher, and Go-go is the one who all the little boy rats of the city fawn over and make goofy eyes at.” She frowned. “Princess Gowanus, the royal heartbreaker.”

  “Go-go has her good points,” Hopper said, biting back another chuckle. “You all do. Which is why Zucker and Firren and all the rest of us are so proud of each and every one of you. You’re a wonderful little bunch of future upstanding politicians.”

  “I prefer princes and princesses,” Hope teased.

  “Royal heirs,” said Hopper, compromising by using the commonly accepted term for referring to Firren and Zucker’s offspring. “Will you settle for that?”