A Tail of Camelot Read Online Free PDF Page A

Circling the outer ring, the gray mouse stopped at the hinge that linked the rows of metal teeth. He did a few muscle flexes and lunges, making a great show of stretching out his legs.
    â€œCome on,” Calib muttered, even as a few mice tittered in the audience.
    Finally, Warren climbed on top of the hinge. He licked his paw and tested the air, as if gauging the wind.
    From his tunic pocket, he removed a candied cherry. With deft aim, Warren threw the cherry at the cheese, knocking it off the platform. When the trap clapped shut, Warren leaped easily off the hinge and out of the trap’s way. Danger avoided, he walked to the center and retrieved the cheese from the ground. Dusting the dirt off, Warren held it up like a trophy. The crowd went wild.
    â€œVery resourceful, Warren,” Commander Yvers remarked. “There is more than one way to clear a trap, and courage goes hand-in-hand with cleverness. Sir Percival will present you with the Blue Badge of Bravery.”
    Warren bowed smugly and took his place next to Devrin in the champions’ circle on the far side of the arena. Sir Percival came down from the stage and pinned the ribbon. He patted Warren encouragingly on his shoulder.
    â€œCalib Christopher, please approach the arena!”
    Panic poured over Calib’s head like ice water. His paws were slick with sweat. His nose had gone numb. He could barely feel his body.
    â€œCalib Christopher,” Commander Yvers repeated. Was it Calib’s imagination or had his grandfather frowned? “Approach!”
    Trembling, Calib stepped jerkily down from the platform, his head pounding as hard as his heart. The sea of cheering spectators only made him feel more like an impostor. He knew he would not succeed in getting the cheese from the trap. He would likely not make it past the first ring of metal teeth. He was not bold like Devrin; not cunning like Warren. He looked back at his grandfather. The warmth and encouragement coming from Commander Yvers’s gaze was the worst of all.
    Calib knew he would have to drop out of the tournament. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t have the courage. He wasn’t brave.
    He was a poor excuse for a Christopher.
    As Calib opened his mouth to withdraw himself, a gust of wind blew through the Goldenwood Hall. All the torches extinguished at once, plunging the hall into darkness.
    For a few seconds, everyone was silent. Then the yelling, coughing, and shoving began.
    â€œWot’s just happened?”
    â€œThat was a magicked wind if I ever felt one!”
    â€œIs this some beast’s idea of a joke?”
    Calib could not believe his luck—his prayer had been answered! The tournament could not go on without light!
    His eyes adjusting to the surrounding darkness, Calib could just make out the patchy silhouettes of his fellowmice grasping in the dark. He wiped his brow and let out a shaky laugh. He had time now—to plan, to think of an excuse.
    â€œFriar Burrows, my tail! Ow!”
    â€œSomeone get Sir Alric up here!”
    Then, out of the corner of his eye, Calib spied a skulking shadow emerging from behind the stands. Tall and lithe, it bounded swiftly toward the stage on four paws.
    The silhouette of a curved blade sat between its teeth, and a sudden terror slammed like a crushing weight against Calib’s chest. As the shadow came closer to the stage, Calib shouted.
    â€œGuards! Grandfather! Look out !”
    But his cries were drowned out by the confusion of other voices. Smoke caught in Calib’s lungs. He pushed toward the stage, still shouting, but the shuffling and shoving blocked his way. He was buffeted in all directions, like a leaf in a swirling current of water.
    â€œGuards! Grandfather! Look— Oof .”
    Calib tripped over a hedgehog’s drum and fell on his chin. He watched helplessly as the shadow leaped onto the stage, nimble as an acrobat. With unnatural speed, it crouched and pounced on Commander Yvers.