Return of the Forgotten

by Lisa Fiedler

  I double my pace and call out to Pritchard, who stands on the bottom step with Ketchum, examining a hastily drafted document, which looks to be official marching orders.

  “Are we at war?” I cry out, my blood thrumming. “What’s happened?”

  Pritchard looks up at the sound of my voice. “There you are,” he calls back. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your assistance is required.”

  “Why?” I ask, growing more frightened by the second. “What’s the matter?”

  Unfortunately, I am robbed of a satisfactory answer when a mouse with a white circle around his right eye comes rushing down the steps.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” he says, throwing his arms around me, his voice trembling with panic.

  I blink at him. He looks at once completely foreign and utterly familiar to me. The snowy-white fur marking, the wounded ear . . .

  A flash goes off inside my head and I see a hazy image of myself from the past, wrapping this injury in clean gauze bandages.

  “Hopper!” I cry out, amazed that I could have forgotten my dear friend, even for a moment. Perhaps it is the frantic mood that surrounds me that is robbing me of the simplest recollections. Or maybe it is the throbbing ache in my head that is playing havoc with my memory.

  “We need you in the nursery,” the Chosen One informs me.

  “What for?”

  “To stay with the children. We trust no one with them but you.”

  Children . . . these I do remember, for they all but own my heart. The royal heirs, Gowanus, Verrazano, Fiske, Brighton, and . . . and . . .

  “Hope is missing,” Hopper croaks.

  Hope. Yes. The littlest princess. Her darling face appears first in a fog, then clearly in my mind.

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” I stammer. “Please, tell me what’s happened.”

  “Hope’s been kidnapped.” He closes his eyes, and I see a tear trickle through the white circle of fur that marks him as the Chosen One.

  “Oh no!” Truly, I can hardly imagine more devastating news. My eyes search the crowd for Firren. Poor Firren.

  I find her beside the emperor at the top of the stairs. I am not surprised to see her sword drawn; she holds it poised above her delicate shoulder with the tip rotating in tiny, menacing circles. Oh, she is ready . . . ready for a fight.

  Now Hopper clutches my arm and pulls me up the steps. Not harshly but urgently. It sparks a sudden memory, a recent one. I flash on a vision of myself being tugged like this . . . but where and by whom I cannot say. The recollection vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving only confusion and fear spinning inside my aching head.

  Hopper brings me straight to Firren.

  “Look who’s arrived,” Hopper announces.

  Firren turns to me. She does not lower her sword. I do not blame her. This is a mother on a mission: whoever the devilish scoundrel who has taken her child is, he is going to pay. When the empress’s eyes meet mine, I see a sliver of relief.

  “Marcy,” she breathes. “Thank goodness.”

  And then, with her sword still hovering above her, the empress does something I’ve never seen her do before:

  She dissolves into tears.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT HAD NOT TAKEN LONG to muster every available military rodent, palace servant, and concerned citizen. They were assembled now on the palace steps, preparing to march out into the tunnels to rescue the kidnapped princess.

  Hopper had been flooded with gratitude when Marcy appeared on the steps. It had been so long since he’d seen her. She’d been stunned to learn that Pup had kidnapped Hope, and when they’d appointed her to remain behind at the palace to watch over the children, although she seemed confused at first, she’d been more than willing to accept the responsibility.

  “We’re afraid Pup might come after the others,” Hopper explained now. He took a dagger from Fulton and slipped it into a leather pouch that hung near his hip.

  “I will guard them with my life,” said Marcy, gingerly rubbing the back of her head. “I’ll do whatever I can to be of assistance.”

  Hopper saw her wince. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “I’m not sure, actually. I guess I bumped my head. But please, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You concentrate on finding . . . finding . . .”

  “Hope.”

  “Right. Of course. Hope.”

  Hopper sighed, watching as soldiers conferred with merchants, consulting maps and giving instructions. “I just wish La Rocha would make contact, maybe give us some information we could use.”

  Marcy gave him a strange look. “Did you say La Rocha?” Her face seemed to register something, but only briefly.

  “The prophet. The philosopher. You know. La Rocha always knows what’s going on before we do.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Marcy nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit . . . scattered for some reason. But I agree. La Rocha has always known the secrets of the tunnels. Perhaps word will come soon.”

  “I’ll tell the servants to bring any message that may arrive from La Rocha directly to you,” Hopper decided. “And if you receive one, you can confer with Devon.”

  “Devon?”

  She really is scatterbrained today, thought Hopper, feeling a twinge of concern. Then he remembered that Marcy hadn’t been present in the palace when Pinkie had arrived with her soldiers. “He’s one of the guards Pinkie sent out to search for Pup,” he clarified. “You wouldn’t believe what he told us!”

  Hopper quickly relayed to Marcy everything Dev had imparted to them. First, how Dev himself had been the one to locate Pup’s hiding spot—a smelly old human fedora hat, overturned at the edge of the tracks—and how he and General DeKalb had been the only ones brave enough to approach it. Dev had talked Pup out of the hat, and it appeared that they had him cornered until they heard the cries for help. Then a tiny rat popped out of the hat. Dev immediately identified her as a royal princess because she’d been wearing a tiara. But her sudden appearance had distracted the general and Pitkin, which had given Pup the opportunity to slice them both to ribbons.

  “My goodness,” breathed Marcy. “What did Dev do?”

  “His first thought was to save the princess, of course. So he grabbed her out of the hat and ran. But Pup was on a rampage. He lunged for the third soldier, Wyona, and strangled her with his bare paws! Then he caught up to Dev, stabbed him in the leg, and grabbed the princess. Dev tried to follow him, but his wound was too severe. He was losing a lot of blood. All he could do was watch in horror as Pup disappeared into the tunnels with Hope.”

  “Has anyone seen to his injury?” Marcy asked.

  “Probably not,” said Hopper, looking around at the chaos on the steps. “Let me take you to him now.”

  Hopper found the wounded soldier in the Strategic Planning Area with his leg propped up on a stool. Marcy had run up to the servants’ quarters to fetch her first aid kit.

  “Hello, Dev,” said Hopper.

  “Chosen One.” The soldier made to stand in a show of respect, but Hopper waved him back into his seat. “How goes the rescue mission?”

  “We are about to leave. But before I go, I want my friend to have a look at that leg. She bandaged me up, once, a long time ago. She knows what she’s doing.”

  As if on cue, Marcy appeared, smiling beside Hopper in the doorway, holding her kit bag of medical supplies.

  Hopper heard Dev gasp, and saw his eyes fly open wide; the soldier’s grip tightened around the arms of his chair. Hopper guessed this was due to a sudden pain from his injury until it occurred to him that Dev might also be reacting to the fact that Marcy was quite a fetching rat. He grinned.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long,” said Marcy, sounding flustered. “It was the most peculiar thing; I couldn’t seem to remember the way to my room. I got all turned around and had to ask . . . well, never mind. I’m here now.”

  Hopper made the introductions. “Dev, Marcy. Marcy . . . Dev.”

&nbs
p; “How are you feeling, soldier?” Marcy asked, striding across the room to kneel beside the stool.

  “Uh . . . I . . . it’s . . .” He winced as Marcy gently removed the blanket bandage.

  She gave him an apologetic smile, then produced a sponge from her bag and gently began to wipe away the blood crusting in his dark-brown fur. “I was impressed to hear of your brave deed, soldier,” she said. “It’s unfortunate to have to meet under these circumstances.”

  “Meet?” said Dev. “You mean . . . we haven’t met before?”

  “I don’t see how we could have,” said Marcy lightly. “You’re from the Mūs village. And I keep mostly to the confines of Atlantia.”

  “Right,” said Dev, relaxing. His shoulders went slack and he let out a long, relieved breath. “Yes. Of course.”

  Hopper was glad to see the soldier looking so calm. Clearly, Marcy’s ministrations were soothing the pain.

  “Will you be joining the others in the search for the missing princess?” Dev asked Marcy.

  But Marcy did not answer, engrossed as she was in studying the wound, so Hopper spoke for her.

  “Marcy is going to stay behind and look after the children. We’re afraid that Pup might get ambitious and try to storm the palace to kidnap another of the royal heirs.”

  “Ah,” said Dev. “Then I’m glad I will be here to offer my assistance.”

  “Soldier,” said Marcy, frowning at his leg. “How exactly did you get this wound?”

  Dev replied without a second’s hesitation. “Pup stabbed me with his sword.” He gave Marcy a crooked grin. “Please tell me it doesn’t look infected.”

  “No.” Marcy shook her head. “It doesn’t look infected. But it doesn’t look like a stab wound either. It looks more like . . . a bite.”

  Dev stiffened.

  “A bite?” Hopper crossed the room to look for himself. Marcy was running the sponge carefully over the bloody punctures, which, to the Chosen One’s eyes, did indeed look a lot like teeth marks. “I thought you said—”

  “I did,” Dev interrupted. “I reported that Pup stabbed me, which is the truth. But you see, well, I was too fast for him. I dodged the blade so that he merely managed to deliver a nick. A scratch, really. You probably can’t even see it. But then, well, I didn’t want to mention this before, because I didn’t want to say anything that might reflect badly on the poor little victim. But Hope panicked. And who could blame her? Here I was, a perfect stranger, snatching her out of a moldy hat and dashing off into the tunnels. For all she knew, I would turn out to be a worse threat than Pup. So . . . she bit me. Sank her little fangs right into my leg.” He chuckled. “I suppose one has to give the little rat princess credit for her resourcefulness.”

  “That sounds like our Hope,” said Hopper. “Just promise me you won’t hold it against her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Dev.

  Marcy smiled and began to wrap the wound in clean cloth.

  “Well, then,” said Hopper. “I’ll be off. I will try to send word back if I can. Meanwhile, take care of the children. And take care of each other.”

  “Don’t you worry,” said Dev, watching as Marcy tied off the bandage in a snug knot. “I intend to take care of everything.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AS HOPPER DEPARTS, I SEND off a silent wish, asking La Rocha to keep him and all the others safe.

  I feel honored to be entrusted with the children. As I return my supplies to my bag, I hear the sound of Firren’s horn outside, calling the troops. Then the thunder of a hundred paws marching.

  It is a noise that is both hopeful and gut-wrenching, and it amplifies the pain in my head. I stand and head for the door, but before I exit, Dev’s voice stops me.

  “You know, I believe they have a valid concern about Pup coming here to harm the other children. He was quite wild when I saw him, and bent on bringing down the monarchy in a most excruciating fashion. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does decide to stash his little hostage somewhere and then storm the palace to attack the rest of the litter.”

  This prediction sends a cold shiver through me. “What should we do?”

  Dev considers the question for a moment. “I know a place where we can hide them. A place I’m certain Pup doesn’t even know exists.”

  “Where?”

  Dev’s steely eyes don’t flicker from my own. “It is difficult to describe. But it is secluded and secret, and a safe distance from here.” He stands and grimaces slightly, shifting his weight from his injured limb. “If you trust me, I think it would be best if we take the children there as soon as possible.”

  I wish he hadn’t waited for Zucker and Firren to leave before making this suggestion. This is an important decision and it’s not my place to make it. I take a long moment to weigh the options, the pros and cons.

  “We wouldn’t have to go,” I say, “if we were prepared to fight him, should he storm the palace.”

  Dev laughs. “We could try, although remember that aside from a few chefs in the kitchen, we are the only ones left in the palace. I’m not sure how much protection a lovely maid and a wounded warrior could provide against such a determined villain as Pup.”

  “That’s true,” I concede. “But there are a million secret places in the palace. If Pup does come, we can hide the royal heirs so that he won’t be able to find them.”

  “He wouldn’t have to find them if he chose to burn the place to the ground.”

  A troubling observation, but an excellent point.

  “You must face the facts, Marcy,” says Dev, turning up his paws. “We are an easy target. The only way to ensure that Pup won’t harm the royal children is to bring them somewhere he’d never think of looking.”

  I heave a heavy sigh, knowing he speaks good sense. At last I nod. “If you give me the location, I will alert the chefs and tell them where we can be found, should the emperor and the others return.”

  “No.”

  “No?” I blink. “Why not?”

  Dev has one word for me: “Torture.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Pup has proven himself ruthless—soulless, even. If he were to find the young royals gone, do you imagine he would think twice about torturing a common kitchen worker in order to discover their whereabouts?”

  “Even if he did,” I say, shaking my head emphatically, “the staff would never tell! Everyone in the palace adores those children!”

  “Of course they do,” Dev allows. “But loyalty and affection are no match for brutality and agony. Pup would stop at nothing. Eventually, I fear, he would extract the information he seeks.”

  My stomach twists into a queasy knot at his use of the word “extract.”

  “However, if no one knows where the children are hidden, no one can reveal their location.”

  Again, there is no arguing with his logic.

  “I hate the idea of taking them out of the palace,” I murmur, “but I see your point.”

  “Good.” Dev steps away from his chair, favoring his bandaged leg. “So you will ready the children for the journey?”

  “I will. I’ll go collect them right now. Then I’ll have the cooks pack up some rations. Food and water and plenty of it.” My voice cracks when I add, “We may be gone for a while.”

  “A very long while,” says Dev, his whiskers twitching.

  “I’ll see if I can fashion something for you to use as a crutch,” I offer.

  “I would appreciate that.” Dev thanks me with a polite dip of his head. “But there is no need. For the majority of our travel, I will not be walking. I plan to use the method pioneered by the Chosen One himself.”

  “Ah!” I smile, despite the grim reason behind our travel plans. “We’re going to take the subway!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PUP AND THE PRINCESS EMERGED into the Atlantic Avenue station. Crossing the platform was like running a gauntlet. Pup remembered the sounds and smells of the place well (though not the sights, as
he’d been clutched in the skinny boy’s fist on that last visit), and every one of them terrified him. It was on a train that departed from this platform where he’d faced the fangs of a hungry boa constrictor. By sheer luck, or perhaps fate, he’d escaped when he’d fallen backward out of the subway car, only to be dropped into a twisting tunnel world of warring rodents—a world of wicked politics, malevolent treaties, and more than its share of courageous heroes.

  His brother was one of those heroes.

  Hopper, along with Zucker and Firren, and even Pinkie, had fought to end the violent reign of Titus, and together they had ultimately facilitated the defeat of Queen Felina. It was Pup’s own father who had started it all, cobbling together the beginnings of that brave rebellion. And if Pup hadn’t been so childish, so petulant, he could, at this very minute, be taking his place within this proud legacy.

  Instead he was scuttling across the dirty cement floor of the Atlantic Avenue subway stop with a lost princess clinging to his neck, struggling to zig and zag his way to what appeared to be a moving mountain, all the while trying to avoid the enormous footsteps of the rushing subway patrons.

  “They’re giants!” Hope breathed into his ear.

  “They’re humans,” Pup wheezed in reply.

  He ran his fastest toward the steep metal hill, which seemed to climb upward in infinite motion. Humans positioned themselves upon its shallow, squared-off cliffs and let it carry them higher and higher toward daylight. It was a kind of mechanical miracle, Pup thought. But that didn’t make it any less frightening.

  “Hang on,” he told Hope.

  Dashing faster, he leaped forward and landed on the zippered edge of a strange rolling case, just as its human owner maneuvered it onto the very bottom outcropping of the moving mountain. His claws grasped the case as the mountain rose, sliding soundlessly upward with the case perched precariously upon it. Pup knew that if the human happened to let go of the handle, even for a second, the case—with Pup and Hope clinging to it—would plummet, bumping and tumbling back down to the hard floor of the platform.