Curse of the Spider King by Wayne Thomas Batson, Christopher Hopper Read Free Book Online Page B

about the vast chamber. It seemed a legion of soldiers had met their fate.
    Grimwarden entered the hall and stooped at the smoldering hulk of a dead soldier. “Gwar,” he muttered. “One of ours, by the silver armor.”
    â€œYes,” Brynn agreed. “Many of our own Gwar attendants were slain. But see, the sable armor is most numerous. Most of these Gwar bodies are from the Spider King’s legions.”
    Grimwarden nodded as he scanned the carnage. “And yet I fear we will still be counting Elven dead long after the Gwar have been removed.”
    â€œThis was not just a battle of iron,” Brynn muttered. “Rarely have I seen such carnage brought by fire.” She pointed to a bulbous shape surrounded by segmented legs, curling in rigor. “Warspiders, too, they came through the windows. They would need such a force to assail the—” She never finished her sentence. Through the smoke and debris, she could just barely make out the white thrones in the back of the room.
    â€œThe Elven Lords?” Brynn whispered. “Olin?” She almost never used Grimwarden’s first name, but the scene before her somehow made conventions of rank irrelevant. Their entire world as they knew it was about to change forever.
    The flet soldiers filed in behind Grimwarden. “Search the room!” he yelled, fighting to suppress the panic rising within him. “Find the Elven Lords!”
    The flet soldiers fanned out and began the grim work of sorting through the rubble, made all the worse in that some of the bodies they found were friends. But it was Grimwarden and Brynn who first dared to venture into the back of the Great Hall. They passed by the altar and tried desperately not to think about the horrors that might have occurred during the ceremony. But when at last they stood at the bottom of the wide steps before the dais, their world seemed to spin out of control. The Elven Lords were all seated in their thrones, propped up as if alive. But no breath stirred in their lungs. And there was no sign of the children.
    â€œWhy would they do this?” Brynn asked.
    â€œThey are taunting us,” Grimwarden answered.
    â€œGrimwarden!” one of the Elven knights called as he stumbled up the stairs to the dais. “We’ve found one of the Sentinels, and . . . she’s alive!”

    Tommy closed the book and found his mom standing in his doorway and smiling strangely. “How long you been standing there, Mom?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” she replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read like that before.”
    â€œRead like what?”
    â€œWell, you were so focused, that’s all. I actually made faces at you, and you never looked up. It was like you weren’t even here.”
    Like I wasn’t even here. . . . Tommy wondered.
    â€œAnyway,” she said, “you should get some sleep. It’ll be morning before you know it. And tomorrow is your last practice before Falcon Day.”
    â€œOkay, Mom, thanks.” But in his mind, he thought, Sleep. Yeah, right.

7
    Curious Customers
    WHEN THEY heard about the bookstore reopening on Market Street, in Depauville, New York, Johnny and Autumn Briarman were far from impressed. Although they didn’t live far away, bookstores were about as useful to them as washing machines. Why wash a perfectly good pair of jeans when you could wear them all week? No, reading was something they had to do, but never something they did—even in school—if they could avoid it. They were alike in that way.
    But on the bus ride home from school, Johnny and Autumn saw that the plain, little store had been repainted. Now it looked a bit like a gingerbread house, and its old sign had been replaced with a thick, wooden placard that hung over the sidewalk: A Likely Story Book Shoppe.
    Johnny shrugged and turned around.
    Autumn looked a little closer. There was a handmade sign in the