The Book of the King by Chris Fabry & Chris Fabry

Author:Chris Fabry & Chris Fabry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian, JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian
ISBN: 9781414365169
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2007-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Owen landed on his back in water in the basement, his shirt hissing and his hair smoking. He looked up to a flickering light and realized the floor above him was afire.

The man pulled Owen up, and each took one of Constance’s hands. “This way,” the man said, and they sloshed through the water.

“Do you have the book?” Owen yelled.

“Don’t worry, Owen.”

From behind them came a great splintering of wood and a roar as deafening as a lion’s and as piercing as a siren’s.

The splintering became pounding, like someone driving a tractor down a flight of stairs. Chunks of wood shot through the basement, and a massive, scaly head poked through the floor, nearly reaching the water. But its body was trapped.

“In here!” The man yanked open a small door and shoved Constance in, then crawled in beside her and reached for Owen.

Owen heard gurgling and snorting behind him and dived in, slamming the door shut.

Owen had always feared drowning and was even scared in the bathtub, but he now felt safer half submerged in a foot and a half of water than being grilled like a hot dog—or worse, devoured like one.

When a stream of molten fire filled the room, the stranger said, “Down we go” and prostrated himself in the dirty, icy water.

Constance immediately followed suit, and Owen had no choice either. Immediately the water temperature rose.

Owen held his breath for what seemed an eternity, but as the fire retreated he raised his head, splashed water on the burning door, and kicked it open. He had to dive back in when another wave of flames shot toward them, closing the door just in time.

After the stranger turned a crank on the back wall, a crude wooden elevator slowly descended. Fire blistered through cracks above them and dribbled atop the elevator. A great roar ripped through the basement, and water cascaded through the shaft.

“He’s through the floor!” the man yelled. “Hold on!”

He released the crank, and the elevator plunged and crashed, breaking the door at the bottom. The man shoved Owen and Constance out as the pounding and splashing above them increased. They were just free of the elevator when it was consumed.

“Keep moving!” the man said.

“What is that thing?” Constance wailed, eyes wide.

The man quickly examined the back of Owen’s head and his arm. He pulled a small vial from his pocket and applied ointment to burns on Owen’s arm and neck. “That, young lady, is your enemy. Our enemy. And he will stop at nothing until we’re dead.”

“Why?” Constance said.

“Later,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“How?” Owen said. “We can’t go back up.”

“No, we won’t be going back that way.”

“Then what way?” Owen said.

The man grabbed a burlap sack, tucked the book inside, and said, “Follow me.”

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