by Lisa McMann
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Other Nasty Places
A Looming Attack
A Word from Clive
A Mass of Tubes
Weapons of Mass Confusion
The Battle with Warbler
In a Panic
The New Unwanteds
A Journey into Quill
A Confrontation at the Palace
Paying Respects
Seeds of a New Plan
Wrapping up Loose Ends
Another Creature
Mountains Bow Down
The Sky Vessel
Certain Death
The Book
The Live Spell
The Short, Uneventful Life of Spike Furious
Overwhelmed
The List
Another Journey Begins
A New Energy in the Palace
A visit to Gondoleery’s
The Team
Watching and Waiting
In over Her Head
An Unsettling Rift
The Quest Continues
The Bird’s-Eye View
A Most Peculiar Dinner
Breathe to Survive
Aaron Strikes a Deal
The Story of Eva Fathom
A Sighting
Sky’s Plan
Shiver Shake Volcano Quake
A Change of Plans
The Big Cat’s Worst Nightmare
Half Over
Fear Replanted
Just Keep Swimming
Flashes of Light
Spike Furious
The Tale of the Sacrifice
The Tale of the Statue
Back to the Jungle
Aaron Hatches a Plan
The Apology
The Island of Legends
A Brief Respite
The Tale of Talon
The Tales of Vido, the Dropbears, and Lhasa
The Return of the Eel
The First Life of LaRue
Palace Discord
While Everyone Slept
The Line of Possibility
A Breakup
A Final Tale
A Chilling Turn
Panther Goes for a Walk
Surprise Attack
To the West
The Edge of the World
About Lisa McMann
For Jackson
Acknowledgments
This series is such a joy to write thanks to you, my wonderful readers. If you’ve sent me a letter or e-mail, or found me on The Unwanteds Facebook page or on Twitter or Instagram (@lisa_mcmann), or gotten your friends interested in The Unwanteds, or made a book trailer, or created your own magic spells, or drawn characters from the book and sent them to me, or written your own stories, or invented something, or tried acting or singing or playing an instrument for the first time, or done science experiments, or found your own creative thing to do because of these books, then this page is for you. THANK YOU, Unwanted friend. It is because of you and your wonderful support that I can continue this story. I hope you find joy in the pages as well.
It’s important for you to know that even if I continued writing the story from my house in the desert land of Quill (oops, I mean Phoenix), it wouldn’t get into your hands without the help of dozens of people who know how to make magic happen. People like my agent, Michael Bourret; my editor, Liesa Abrams, and her editorial team; publisher Mara Anastas; and the shockingly wise Lauren Forte, who has hawk eyes (actual hawk eyes, I’m not kidding). She’s like that teacher who catches every single one of your mistakes, but she’s really nice about it—you know what I’m talking about? And because of that I learn so much and hopefully end up making fewer mistakes next time.
There are so many others at Simon & Schuster who play a huge part in putting this book together so that you can read it. You noticed the cover, I’m sure—Owen Richardson is the talented artist who draws all the Unwanteds covers, and Karin Paprocki designs them with a little help from her team. A designer figures out how to lay out everything, determines which fonts to use, and decides how the inside pages look with those giant capital letters and cool little origami dragons at each chapter. Wouldn’t that be a fun job to have?
Another important part of the team is the production department. They work with the printer on getting the books printed correctly, and they make sure all the special effects on the cover are perfect.
Lucille (who gives the best hugs) and Carolyn (who tells the funniest stories) and the rest of my marketing team at S&S do a ton of awesome stuff. They’re the ones who bring you cool giveaways and contests at places like KidzBop.com and Goodreads.com, and at the various S&S social media pages. They also make the bookmarks and stickers that go with this series, and they along with Matt maintain TheUnwantedsSeries.com website. And my publicity team is constantly working to send me around the country so I can do presentations at your schools and at book festivals and trade shows.
Michelle and Anthony are part of the incredible library and education team that works on this series, bringing it to the attention of your teachers and librarians. One cool thing I know you’ll enjoy is the curriculum guide to the series written by Kathleen Odean. It’s filled with fascinating and thought-provoking questions about what happens in the books. If you’re an educator, homeschooling parent, or a superfan of any age, you’re going to want to see it. And the best part is that it’s free. You can find a link to it on TheUnwantedsSeries.com or here: http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/tagged_assets/12838_unwanteds_cg.pdf
Reader, you would never have heard of this series if it weren’t for the sales team. The sales team travels from place to place within the US and in other countries too, showing books to the bookstore people and telling them what the series is about months before the books even come out. If the people who work in the stores had never heard of The Unwanteds, they wouldn’t order the books for their stores, and you wouldn’t find them on the shelves. So it’s pretty obvious that being on a sales team is a really crucial part of the process that many people don’t even think about. (But now you know!)
And even if everyone I mentioned so far did their jobs perfectly, there is still one very necessary cog to the wheel—and that is the booksellers themselves. They are the coolest people of all (I know, because I used to be one)! They order and stock their physical and virtual shelves with books they think their customers will like. And that’s where you come in—if you tell the booksellers what books you like, and if you ask them to order the books you are interested in, guess what? They will. So remember that the next time you can’t find the book you want.
Finally, the last key player in the book process is you. And even though I sound like a broken record, there would be no Unwanteds series without you (or your beautiful parents) who buy the books. And just as important as you, the reader, is your friend who hasn’t heard about The Unwanteds yet. Because, thanks to you, they might just find out, and then everybody wins.
I hope you enjoy Island of Legends. Many of you have told me that a year is just too long to wait between books, so my team and I decided to work extra hard to bring you the next three books in the series every six months. When you are finished reading Island of Legends, look for Book 5: Island of Shipwrecks in February 2015, Book 6 in September 2015, and Book 7 in February 2016.
> xox
Lisa
Other Nasty Places
Aaron Stowe, the high priest of Quill, blinked and turned his head. It was dark as pitch. A moment before, he’d been running through the chaos in Artimé, wrists shackled in front of him. He’d stumbled up the marble staircase of the mansion and flown down the last hallway on the left, all the way to the end of it, and taken a sharp right turn into the kitchenette, which is where he’d arrived from in the first place. He’d stepped into the glass tube that had brought him here, and looked at all the buttons as the voices behind him grew louder. The tube in Haluki’s office closet had only one button, but this . . . As the panic rose to his throat, Aaron raised his hands and pressed down, hitting all the buttons at once. Instantly the light disappeared.
Had he gone back to Haluki’s house? Perhaps one of the closet’s double doors had swung shut. Aaron raised his arms in front of him, finding the opening in the tube so he could exit. He reached his shackled hands through it and felt nothing but air. No closet doors. Nothing solid at all.
He gingerly stepped one foot outside the tube. The surface below was uneven, not floorlike at all. In fact, it felt like dirt, but not well-packed dirt like a road in Quill. The earth beneath him had not been heavily trod upon for quite some time. Perhaps never. Well, it couldn’t be never, Aaron reasoned. Someone had to have put the tube here.
He sniffed and hung on to the side of the tube’s opening. He could smell dampness in the air, like Quill an hour after a rare downpour, only this was somehow richer. Earthier. The scent of mint was in the air as well, and he could hear something trickling, a brook or a stream not far away. It seemed like it could be pleasant here, but it was different and unexpected, and therefore quite frightening to someone from Quill.
“What is this place?” Aaron whispered, straining to see something. Anything. His fingers trembled, and he gripped the edge of the tube opening even harder. He turned his head to look back inside the tube, but if there were any buttons, they weren’t visible in the darkness.
Eventually his eyes adjusted enough that he could just barely make out a few shapes. Large tree shapes loomed overhead, and the outline of an enormous rock appeared to step out of the shadows. Near the rock he could see a faint patch of light from the moon shining through the trees.
After another moment of calm, Aaron felt a bit of courage returning. It was enough for them to venture one step toward the light, and then another. A stick cracked under his foot and he froze, but nothing came of it. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure he could still see the tube, and then continued toward the light.
When he stood in the middle of the glow, he looked up through the clearing. Jungle vines hung all around from the most monstrous trees he’d ever seen. The rock nearby was much larger than he’d thought. It jutted upward into the darkness, and Aaron couldn’t tell how high or deep it went.
Aaron peered at the rock. Perhaps he could slam his shackles against it to break free. He edged closer, eyeing the shadowy crevasses, one of which looked like it could be the entrance to a cave. Tentatively he tapped the clay shackles on the rock.
Immediately two craggy yellow eyes opened and stared back at him. The cave opening changed shape, as if it were the giant rock’s mouth, but it didn’t speak. Aaron backed away in fright. And then, from behind him, a high-pitched noise like a woman’s scream pierced his ears.
Aaron whirled around and screamed too. The screech grew louder, turning the boy’s knees to liquid. He could make out a large animal shape creeping toward him. Aaron tried to run but stumbled over his feet, unable to get his legs to move properly, and then pitched forward as his foot tangled with a vine on the jungle floor. He braced his fall with his forearms and rolled onto his back, desperate to see if either the yellow-eyed rock or the screaming monster was following him.
One of them was. The screaming creature crouched nearby, its hindquarters shifting as if it were about to pounce.
Aaron rolled again, onto his front side, and scrambled up to his feet, inching sideways toward the tube and holding his only weapon—his shackled wrists—in front of him. He scooted faster now in the direction of the tube, praying not to trip, as the monster leaped and landed on the ground in the patch of light where Aaron had been.
The creature gleamed black all over, shining brighter along the curve of its back. Its face resembled that of the frightening winged statue who guarded Aaron’s twin brother, Alex, and the mansion in Artimé, and its body was nearly as large. But this creature had no wings. It crept toward Aaron and screamed once more, displaying four gleaming, dripping fangs.
Aaron froze, nearly fainting with fear, paralyzed by the hideous screaming as if he were under a spell. The creature pounced, knocking Aaron to the ground and holding him there with a giant paw on his chest.
It was so startling, so uncommon, that instead of frightening Aaron, it infuriated him. He was the high priest of Quill, after all. He demanded respect. Aaron forgot his fear and sprang into action, slamming his shackles hard into the nose of the creature and crying out with all his might, “Get off, beast! Release me!”
To Aaron’s astonishment, the creature stepped back. After the slightest hesitation, Aaron rolled out of reach and crawled to the tube, his hands flailing wildly for buttons—any buttons he could find. Anything to get him out of here.
As his right hand connected and the dark jungle disappeared, Aaron realized his shackles had fallen away. His hands were free.
A Looming Attack
At the sight of a hundred lights pricking the horizon in the direction of Warbler Island, Alex Stowe, head mage of Artimé, bounded into the mansion with robes flying, and leaped up the stairs three in a stride. He didn’t have time to look for his awful brother, Aaron. He didn’t have time to comfort his newest friends, Sky and her younger brother, Crow, who felt sure that the people of Warbler were coming to attack Artimé because of them and their escape. Alex only had time to act.
Behind him came Simber, and behind Simber came Ms. Octavia, the octogator, nearly appearing to float through the air on her many tentacles.
Alex dashed through the no-longer-a-secret hallway, past the two mysterious doors he had not yet been able to unlock, and then past the doors to his new living quarters and the Museum of Large. He turned left into his new office at the end of the hall, by the picture window that overlooked Artimé.
Charlie the gargoyle was there already—he spent a good deal of time in this wing of the mansion, still not quite having gotten over the loss of his creator, Mr. Today, whose recent death had shaken Artimé.
“Can you ask Matilda to contact us if she sees Aaron showing up at the palace tonight?” Alex asked Charlie. “Also, find out if his wrists are still shackled.”
Charlie responded with a hand signal Alex had determined to mean “yes,” though Sky, who knew the sign language, had said something once about how that hand signal had a more complex meaning, like “yes” with an air of reverence, as if the gargoyle were acknowledging Alex as a king. It made Alex feel a little embarrassed to be referred to in such a manner, but Sky had said it would be insulting to Charlie if Alex asked him to stop, so the new mage reluctantly accepted it.
“Thanks,” Alex said. He drummed his fingers nervously on the desk and sorted through a stack of papers, not really seeing them, just keeping his fingers busy as if to mimic the speed of the wheels turning in his head.
Simber and Octavia entered the office and took their places. Claire Morning and Gunnar Haluki, both recovered from their brushes with death, were not far behind. Tailing them was Florence, who had stayed back to be sure everyone made it safely inside the mansion to await their instructions.
Alex stood abruptly and paced the floor, distracted by a whirlwind of thoughts and not knowing quite how or where to start preparing for an attack at home. Crow had cried out that it was the birds of Warbler coming to get them, but Alex thought it was more likely that the dots of light were from Queen Eagala’s fleet of ships s
he’d been building for years. Sky had said there were many in various states of construction. He wondered if Warbler really could be heading to Artimé to attack.
“But of course they must be,” muttered Alex. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked up when the floor shook slightly. Florence had taken her seat.
The strange party of humans, statues, and creatures glanced uneasily about, quite possibly because of Alex’s strange mumblings. Not a single one in the room had been around to see Alex’s forced evolution from boy to mage back when Artimé had turned to dust, the creatures rendered lifeless and the humans nearly so from lack of food and water. And while Alex, after a number of stumbles and amid countless moments of despair, had proven to be quite worthy of taking the place of their beloved leader, Mr. Today, the team had not been there to witness the worst of the situation.
Alex looked around the room, thankful for perhaps the eighty-seven millionth time that the eyes that sought his belonged to this particular group of advisors. He opened his lips to greet them, but hesitated, both in speaking and in pacing. Instead he took a moment to really consider who sat with him at this pivotal juncture: Simber, the pristine stone winged cheetah who had almost without effort grown to be Alex’s confidant and first mate. Florence, the enormous ebony statue who commanded Artimé’s magical warriors. Ms. Octavia, the art instructor, one of Mr. Today’s most gifted, trusted, and outspoken creations. Gunnar Haluki, the former high priest of Quill and the father of Alex’s dear and valuable friends Lani and Henry. And Claire Morning, Mr. Today’s daughter, a musical genius and a nurturer rather than leader, by her own proclamation. It was an incredible group—Mr. Today’s own hand-picked team—and they were among the best of Artimé. Yet for Alex, something wasn’t quite right. Because during their absence with Artimé had disappeared, Alex had quite desperately come to trust a few others.
Alex tapped his lips. “How much time do we have before they get here, Sim?”
“Severrral hourrrs. Likely morrre,” replied the beast.