Curse of the Spider King by Wayne Thomas Batson, Christopher Hopper

bristled. “We’ve come too far as a people to go back to antiquated notions and judg—”
    â€œWho else, then?” Elle asked. “One of our own?”
    â€œJust as likely,” said Brynn.
    Grimwarden cleared his throat. “I would be inclined to agree with Elle,” he said, “but there might be a third possibility.”
    â€œWisps,” Brynn muttered.
    â€œPrecisely.” Grimwarden gripped the pommel of his rychesword, his knuckles whitened. “We ignorantly believed they were all dead. How simple it would have been for the enemy. Just lie in wait for one of our scouting patrols and replace a true Elf with a treason-minded Wisp.”
    â€œGuardmaster Grimwarden!” a flet soldier yelled from the hall’s entrance. Grimwarden raised a hand. The Elf approached at once, delivering his news as he came. “The east gate of the city has been breached!”
    â€œWhat?” Grimwarden spun around, furious. “But we have more than a battalion there . . . and archers.”
    The soldier at the entrance was clearly beside himself, growing paler with his commander’s response. “The gate itself is thrown down,” he said. “But our forces were able to waylay the enemy in Sentinel Garden. There, we hold the higher ground. But for how long, I cannot say. What are your orders?”
    Thrown down? Grimwarden rose slowly, eyeing the messenger and then surveying the body-strewn hall with great sorrow. So much loss, so much death. If he did not act quickly, even more innocent lives would be lost.
    Brynn sensed Grimwarden’s distress.
    â€œSir”—said the soldier again—“your orders?”
    Grimwarden still did not answer. The Gap had been crossed . . . the city walls overrun. The Seven Lords murdered, their infant children taken to some horrible end. And now, the final gate thrown down. The Spider King had not come to defeat the Elves; he’d come to wipe them from the face of Allyra.
    Grimwarden glanced once more past the thrones. He knew what he must do. But he shuddered to think what it might cost, what dire destiny he would bind his people to. And if they survived, he knew that history would not reflect his decision kindly. He would be known as the coward who led the Children of the Light into the abysses of the deep . . . and what of the light? If he could not find a way to get his people sunlight . . . he shuddered to think.
    Grimwarden straightened his back. “You are Xander, aren’t you? Belarius and Thenna’s boy?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThen, Xander, gird yourself for this task. For never in the long history of our beloved city has this command been spoken, and it makes my heart heavy to do so.” He waited a deep breath and said, “Light the blue beacons.”
    Xander’s mouth hung slack. He muttered in shock, “The blue beacons . . . but that means—”
    â€œI know very well what it means,” Grimwarden barked. His prominent jaw jutted out even more as he spoke. “But we will not be wiped like a stain from this world. We will live to fight another day. Light the blue beacons, NOW!”
    Xander sprinted away. Grimwarden turned to Brynn. “Can you get to your remaining commanders and order them to gather reinforcements to Sentinel Garden? We must have time for the women and children to get here.”
    â€œI will make it happen,” she replied. “But we cannot allow the citizens to travel unguarded and by open ways. The enemy will slaughter them.”
    Grimwarden was thoughtful. “No, we cannot. Brynn, you must lead them. See to it that your commanders take a full battalion or more to the garden, but muster at least a troop for yourself. Shepherd our people here by whatever concealed ways you can find. We are going underground.”
    Brynn crossed her wrists and bowed. “I will bring our people here safely.”
    Grimwarden bowed. But even as he