The Quillan Games Read Online Free PDF

whole new playing field. Looking forward, I saw that I was on top of a sea of crates that rose up on multiple levels. I couldn’t run there. One wrong step and I’d fall to the floor, break my leg, and become bug chow. No, I hadto be careful. It was more about leaping from crate to crate than actually running. No sooner did I get to the end of one big crate than I’d have to climb up to another, or jump down a level. This didn’t seem to bother the spiders, though. They reached the tops of the crates and swarmed forward, rolling over the terrain like a creeping shadow. They were definitely going to catch me unless I thought of something, fast.
    I bounded across one crate and had to stop short, or I would have fallen down into an aisle that stretched out to either side. I looked back to see the spiders were nearly on me. Their screeching grew louder, as if they knew the end was near. Or the beginning, if you were talking about their lunch. I had no choice but to leap across the chasm between the crates. I took a few steps back, held my breath, sprinted for the end, and leaped through space.
    I made it to the far side with a few feet to spare. Again, thank you, adrenaline. I soon got more good news. Bugs couldn’t jump. At least they couldn’t jump far enough to make it across the aisle. The bugs had to climb down one side of the wall of crates, scramble across the floor, then crawl back up on the other side of the aisle. My side. I was kind of hoping they wouldn’t make it across at all, but the extra time it took for them to go down and across and up gave me the chance to get some distance from them. I jogged forward, looking for more aisles to leap across and get even farther away. I leaped across one, two, three more aisles. With each crossing my confidence grew. I was buying enough time to find my way out of this not-so-fun house. As I traveled farther away from the bugs, their squeaking and chattering grew faint. I figured I had survived yet another brush with Saint Dane’s quigs without a scratch.
    I was wrong.
    I decided to leap across one more aisle to make sure the bugs were far enough back that I could climb down and find the exit. But when I launched myself across and landed on the crate on the far side, the top edge cracked under my weight. If I had been prepared, I probably could have landed safely. But I was getting cocky. I should have jumped farther. Oops. The surprise was what got me. The wood of the crate must have been old and rotten, because before I realized what was happening, I crashed down to the floor in a shower of splinters and dust. I must have conked my head, because I was knocked loopy. All I remember of those few moments was the dust and debris raining down on me from the fractured crate. I didn’t know if I was hurt or stunned or simply confused. I remember sitting there for a while, though I’m not sure for how long. It could have been a few seconds, or more than a few minutes. What finally snapped me back to reality were the familiar sounds.
    Screech. Chatter.
    The bugs were back.
    I was in no shape to get up and start running. I was too dizzy for that. But I still had enough sense to realize they would be on me any second. I looked around for something to defend myself with. At my back was the splintered crate. It was made from long slats of inch-thick wood. The one side had cracked open and I was able to yank off a long piece of wood. It was about four feet long and a few inches wide. More importantly, it was solid. I tested it against my knee. The rotten boards must have all been on top. This side piece was intact. It wasn’t exactly a wooden stave like the one Loor had taught me to use on Zadaa, but it would have to do.
    I got weakly to my feet, with my eyes looking up at the top of the crate I had just fallen from. If the bugs were coming, they’d come from there. I gripped the rough piece of wood, turned my body sideways to make a smaller