Curse of the Spider King (51 page)

The Radisson Hotel Lackawanna in Scranton—you were long overdue for a mention. We have found your place to be a writer's sanctuary.

His Way Books—Michelle Black; Barnes and Noble, Ellicott City—Amber Stubbefield; and Gifts from Above—for supplying us with books to sell for Pennsylvania events.

To Gregg Wooding, our friend—and agent—man, are we glad to have you as an ally. You are a Swordbrother of the first order.

Authors Donita K. Paul, Sharon Hinck, Eric Reinhold, Bryan Davis, Jonathan Rogers, L. B. Graham, Chris and Allan Miller, Andrew Peterson, Dean Briggs, Bryan Polivka, J. A. Konrath, and many others who have modeled excellence in writing—thank you for inspiring us by your example.

Laura Minchew, Beverly Phillips, June Ford, Jackie Johnston, AnnJanette Toth, and all our friends at Thomas Nelson—thank you for spending your skill and experience on us.

And last but not least, to Pam Schwagerl, for being the catalyst for our Fantasy Tours . . . and for giving Christopher permission (wink, wink).

Sneak Preview of
The Berinfell Prophecies : Book 2

Deep in the northwestern corner of the Thousand-League Forest, carved into the living rock of Mount Mystbane and shrouded by the fearless cliffhanging trees, Whitehall Castle, the Elves' long abandoned home, had tenants once more. Hidden and far away from the Spider King's stronghold in Vesper Crag, Whitehall was the one place the Elves thought it safe to conduct the secret warfare training of the returning lords. Once embedded within the castle, a team of Sentinels and Dreadnaughts began their urgent mission teaching the young lords the Elven art of fighting. With few breaks, the young lords endured the rigorous lessons—while the exiled remnants of Elven civilization anxiously waited hundreds of leagues away in the Nightwish Caverns.

On those rare occasions when he was free from the brutal training schedule, Tommy spent nearly all of his time exploring the labyrinthine passages of Whitehall Castle. The intricate network of corridors, keeps, tunnels, and towers was an irresistible puzzle waiting to be solved . . . and Tommy loved puzzles. Most often, he'd make a wrong turn and wind up at a blank stone wall, or worse, right back where he'd started. But every once in a while he'd follow a passage and discover spectacular settings, like a chamber full of sunlit water fountains or a hall strewn with intriguing artwork. Or, like yesterday, a secluded balcony high on Whitehall's central tower.

Tommy had spent several hours reclining on the balcony's curving stone bench and quickly made it his own. Eyes open or closed, he found the spot relaxing and entertaining. Colorful birds crisscrossed in the air and disappeared into the dark green shadows under the canopy. Braided mimots—the striped, ghost-faced, monkeylike creatures that lived in the treetops—hooted and cackled as they leaped branch to branch after each other. And numerous driftworms—thumb-sized fuzzy, purple caterpillars—descended from the upper branches on gossamer parachutes of silk, to land wherever the breeze carried them. It was as peaceful a place as Tommy had yet seen in Allyra.

After a particularly exhausting session, Tommy couldn't wait to get back to his special escape. Traversing several large halls, climbing two flights of stairs, and racing blindly down a dark passage, Tommy turned a corner and . . . came to an abrupt stop.

Kat Simonson was sitting in his spot. She looked up at Tommy, her bluish skin purpling with new blush. But there was no smile. Just a sigh.

“You're kidding,” they both said.

“I just found this place yesterday,” said Tommy.

“I found it the day before,” said Kat. She saw his shoulders fall and didn't even need to read his thoughts. “It's okay,” she said. “There's room for two.”

Feeling somewhat disappointed and very awkward, Tommy sat. He crossed his arms and leaned on the balcony rail. He didn't look at her but could feel Kat's stare. When she finally looked away, Tommy felt somehow lighter. He relaxed a little and absently watched the driftworms.

“Oh, look,” said Kat. Tommy turned. A small purple piece of fuzz was crawling down her forearm. “It tickles.”

“Reminds me of woolly bears back at home,” Tommy said. “'Cept they're not so purple.”

Kat smiled and held up her hand. The driftworm traveled the length of her index finger and seemed perplexed as to where to go from there. “Have you seen the moths that these things turn into?”

Tommy shook his head.

“Ril says they're as big as both your hands . . . and they glow.”

“Cool,” said Tommy. He imagined the forest canopy at night, alive with hundreds of luminous moths. “Way cool.”

Suddenly, Tommy and Kat stiffened and looked up. They had heard a sound, a haunting . . . alien sound. Like a bird's cry, but it had gradually morphed into a voice. It trilled and then faded.

“What was that?” Tommy asked.

“Shh! There it is again!” Kat looked at him wide-eyed. “Did it . . . did it speak?”

“So you heard it too.” Tommy gasped. “It said—”

“CoO-oMmMm-
m
me
.”

“It's in the castle somewhere!” Kat said.

“Where?”

“This way!” Kat leaped from the stone bench and tore into the castle. Tommy sprinted after her. Hearing the sound again, they followed the echoes farther into the castle, and then veered off down a passage they had never taken before. The haunting call led them deeper and deeper into the cliff side of the castle. Several twists and turns later, Kat held up a hand for Tommy to stop. The passage they were in was lit only from windows at either end. They stood in the shadows between.

“Why'd you stop?”

“That last—whatever it was—it's here. I feel like we should see it.”

Tommy pointed to the far side of the corridor . . . a dead end. “Maybe you just heard it echo.”

“No, it was right here.”

“But it's just a wall.”

Kat let out a yelp and jumped back. Something moved at the base of the wall.

Something with eyes.

Tommy and Kat edged backward, squinting in the dim light. It was hard to see whatever it was, but something snakelike emerged, apparently squeezing between two stones just above the floor. It slithered toward them and squeaked.

“Oh, it's a frake!” said Kat. She stepped forward and, to Tommy's astonishment, picked the thing up.

Tommy looked at it curling around Kat's wrist and up into her hand. “A what?” he asked.

“A frake. Well, that's what I call it at least.” She gave him a goofy smile. “It's like a furry snake. Fur-rake—get it? Nelly called it some Elvish name I can't remember. So I just call it frake. Here, hold it.”

She let it slither into Tommy's cupped hands. Indeed it was like a snake's body, but completely covered in soft, shorthaired fur. It had huge eyes and a small, pink nose. It squeaked again and then emitted a low purring sound. Tommy looked at Kat. “Is this what we heard?”

“No,” said Kat. “No way.” She walked over to the wall, eyeing the stones. “But that little guy just came out of the wall. Which means . . .” She pressed her palms flat against the stone. “I bet there's something behind here.” She pushed in several places.

“Yeah, right, Kat,” he said. “That only happens in the mov—”

“Ah! This one.” Kat found a stone that slide inward and then fell, revealing a gaping black hole.

“I don't believe it.” Tommy stepped forward. “What's in there?”

“I can't tell. Hey, put the frake down and help.”

“Oh, . . . right.” Tommy placed the still-purring creature on the passage floor and pulled at the edge of the hole until he dislodged another stone. It was no little effort, but soon, Tommy and Kat had an opening they could crawl through.

Kat looked at Tommy. “Think we should?”

“Why not?” he asked, sarcastically adding, “I mean, if you hear a scary bird-scream-ghost-voice coming from a black hole in a stone wall, the only thing to do is investigate.” Kat whacked him on the shoulder and then disappeared through the wall.

It was a little more awkward a fit for Tommy. When he was through, Kat said, “Stairs.”

Still wiping dust from his tunic, Tommy looked up. About seven feet away, just visible in the inky dark, gray steps spiraled up and to the left.

“Come on,” Kat said.

Placing each foot carefully and bracing themselves on the cold, dusty walls, Tommy and Kat began their ascent. “
Phew!
There's a ton of dust,” Tommy said.

“Been a long time since anyone's gone through here.”

“I wonder why it was bricked up.”

None of the answers that suggested themselves were very comforting. They continued to climb in silence, Tommy assuming the lead and Kat right on his heels. Up and up and 'round and 'round it went. Eerie, gray twilight filtered down from somewhere far above.

The dust was powdery and thick.
How many years had it built up?
Tommy wondered. But he noticed that there weren't any cobwebs . . . not a single one. That was good. Tommy'd had enough of spiders. In fact, he ho—

Kat squeezed his shoulder like a vise. “Did you hear that?”

“No,” he whispered back, his heart kicking into thrash-metal mode. “What?!”

“It sounded like . . . scratching.”

“I don't hear any—” He stopped short. He did hear something. A scratching or a scraping . . . but not very loud. What it lacked in volume it made up for in creepiness. Tommy imagined a zombie locked away in a stone crypt, and though the flesh of its fingers had worn away long ago, it still kept scratching. Kat read those thoughts from Tommy's mind . . . and wished she hadn't.

The scratching grew louder as they climbed. Tommy went around a bend . . . and stopped. Kat bumped into his back. Tommy whispered urgently, “STOP! Don't move.”

“What?” Kat looked over his shoulder. The spiral stair ended at a tower chamber, the entrance of which had once been bricked up like the opening far below. It was a jagged hole now, but on the other side, with the Allyran sky darkening behind it, was an immense bird. At least six feet tall, the avian creature had a raptor's profile, like a hawk or an eagle, only it was covered in brilliant, burgundy feathers, and its fierce eyes were gold.

Tommy blinked. It seemed to be staring directly at him.

“I think we should go back,” Kat whispered from behind.

The bird screamed, and the sound was such that it made every tiny hair on Tommy's neck and arms stand straight up. And it was so loud it made both their ears ring.

The bird released Tommy from its gaze. It lifted one of its long, taloned claws and began scratching at the dark stone of the chamber wall. Its talons had to be ridiculously sharp to gouge the stone like that. Several strange symbols, scratched in white, were already there, and the creature was finishing another. It almost looked like a language of some sort.

Tommy noticed that the bird was standing in a bed of parchments, some open, some still rolled and bound. And behind the creature was a stone bookshelf filled with very dusty, very large books.

SCREECH.
The bird had apparently finished writing on the wall, and it turned its golden eyes on Tommy. It made a kind of deep chirp and bobbed its head in the direction of the symbols on the wall. It chirped again, louder and more urgent this time.

Tommy took a step forward.

“What are you doing?!” Kat clutched at his shirt. Tommy didn't answer, but she knew what he was thinking. “Tommy, come back! I don't think you should get near it!”

Tommy looked back over his shoulder. “I think it wants me to look.”

“I think it wants you closer so it can eat you! Tommy!”

But Tommy didn't listen. He turned and kept going. As dangerous and strange as it appeared, there was something about the bird that felt . . . right. The creature watched Tommy intently, staring down its beak with unblinking eyes.

Tommy stepped through the ruined entrance to the chamber. It happened too fast for Tommy to react. The bird's claw shot out and raked Tommy's forearm. Kat screamed and watched him fall backward, blood dribbling from the new wound. She reached Tommy's side just in time to see the fierce, burgundy raptor spread its vast wings and leap toward them.

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