Isle of the Lost (Descendants 1)

Jay stared. “You’re about two feet tall. How would a guy like you get people like us all the way back to town?”

Evie elbowed him.

“Not to be rude,” Jay said.

“Rude,” chanted the goblins, still grunt-laughing.

“I’m pretty sure that was rude,” Carlos muttered.

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“Ah, there you have it. Alone, we are but a single goblin, perhaps even, a brute.” The goblin smiled. “Together, I’m afraid we are a rather brutal army. Not to mention, we pull an excellent carriage.”

“Pull!” The goblins went nuts.

An old iron carriage—like the kind you might have seen Belle and Beast ride away in, except black and burnt and nothing that either the queen or king of Auradon would so much as touch—appeared in front of them.

No less than forty goblins manned either side, fighting for a grip on the carriage itself.

“Why would you do that?” Mal said, as a good seven goblins battled the broken door open. “Why are you being so nice?”

“A good deed. Helping a fellow adventurer. Perhaps there’s a chance for us to get off this island yet,” said the goblin. “We have been sending messages to our dwarf kin asking King Beast for amnesty. We’ve been wicked for such a very long time, you know. It does get tiresome after a while. I would kill for a cream cake.”

“Currants,” said a goblin.

“Chocolate chip,” said another.

Mal had to admit, she was starting to feel a little exhausted herself. She knew, because she slept the entire way home, without even being embarrassed that her head was resting on Evie’s shoulder.

When Mal returned to the Bargain Castle, she fully expected her mother to scream invectives at her for failing in her quest. She opened the door slowly and stepped inside, as quietly as she could, keeping her eyes on the ground.

It was no use. Maleficent was on her throne. “So, the prodigal daughter returns,” she said. Her voice sounded different.

“Mother, I have something to…” Mal stopped, looking up.

And stared.

And then stared some more, in about ten different varieties of shock.

Because she found herself staring at the long black staff with the green globe at its top that her mother was holding.

The Dragon’s Eye.

“Is that—” She couldn’t speak.

Maleficent nodded. “Yes, it is the Dragon’s Eye. And yes, you did fail me. But thankfully, not all my servants are as useless as you.”

Mal ignored the word servant. “But how?”

Maleficent laughed. “Silly child, what do you know about quests?”

“But we found it in the Forbidden Fortress! I just touched it—an hour ago!” said Mal. “It was in your own throne room. Suspended on the wall. Where you could see it, from where your throne used to sit.”

Her mother eyed her. Mal couldn’t be certain, but it was possible, for the briefest of all split-seconds, that her mother was the slightest bit impressed.

“I touched it, and that thing knocked me unconscious.”

“You touched it? You don’t say,” said Maleficent. “Well, good job, you. You really are as soft as your father.”