Read The Brimstone Network (Brimstone Network Trilogy) Online
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
Thirteen-year-old Abraham
“Bram”
Stone has never lived an ordinary life. Home is a monastery in the Himalayan Mountains, where the monks train him in otherworldly fighting skills. Bram’s father, Elijah Stone, leads a group called the Brimstone Network, an order of warriors and sorcerers who provide the last line of defense against all
PARANORMAL
dangers.
Bram always knew that one day he’d take his father’s place. But that day comes far too soon when a bizarre man named
Mr. Stitch
arrives at the monastery and breaks the news to Bram: Every member of the Brimstone Network, including Elijah, has been assassinated. Suddenly it’s up to Bram to form a new
BRIMSTONE NETWORK
out of the rubble of the old, in the hope that he can rise to the challenge in time to stop a terrifying
THREAT
to humanity.
This is only the beginning.
The new Brimstone Network faces its next challenge in
THE BRIMSTONE NETWORK BOOK TWO: THE SHROUD OF A’RANKA
, coming this October.
ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
Simon & Schuster, New York / Cover designed by Karin Paprocki / Cover illustration © 2008 by Zachariah Howard / Ages 9-13 /
www.SimonSaysKids.com
/ 0808
It begins …
Bram stirred, pulling himself from the folds of sleep. A shadowy figure stood at the end of his mat, and for a moment, Bram thought he was looking at the ghostly phantasm of his now deceased father. He sat up with a gasp.
“You … ill … n … er … e … lone.”
The words were garbled, as if coming from very far away.
Bram jumped forward, reaching for the ghostly image, desperate for it not to leave.
“Wait!” he cried as the ethereal shape began to fade, replaced by something larger and more solid.
“Father?” Bram asked, desperate for it to be so.
The dark shape suddenly surged forward with a ferocious roar, the smell of blood and rotten meat filling the air.
Bram leaped back, away from the snarling beast. He saw what it was now and could not believe his eyes.
Coming soon:
The Brimstone Network Book 2:
The Shroud of A’Ranka
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Text copyright © 2008 by Tom Sniegoski
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
ALADDIN PAPERBACKS and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Designed by Mike Rosamilia and Karin Paprocki
The text of this book was set in Minister.
First Aladdin Paperbacks edition August 2008
eISBN: 978-1-4391-5333-8
Library of Congress Control Number 2008920170
ISBN-13: 978-1-4169-5104-9
ISBN-10: 1-4169-5104-0
For Thomas M. “Moe” Carroll.
One of the good guys.
As it will always be, much love to my wife, LeeAnne, and Mulder the Wonder Dog for letting me live in their house.
Delicious gluten-free cake-like thanks to my editor extra-ordinaire Liesa Abrams for making this book snap, crackle, and pop.
Thanks are also going out to Zach Howard for the amazing cover, Christopher Golden, Dave “the Behemoth” Kraus, Eric Powell, John & Jana, Harry & Hugo, James “the Eye” Mignogna, Don Kramer, Greg Skopis, Mom & Dad Sniegoski, Mom & Dad Fogg, David Carroll, Ken Curtis, Lisa Clancy, Pete Donaldson, Kim & Abby, Jon & Flo, Pat & Bob, Sheila Walker, Mike Mignola, Christine Mignola, Katie Mignola, and Timothy Cole and the spawns of the Devil down at Cole’s Comics.
Good night, and try the veal.
PROLOGUE
WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AFRAID OF
the dark.
Even in our most bestial state, mankind has feared the deep inky blackness of the night, the velvety depths of shadow.
But it was not the darkness that the first vestiges of humanity feared, back in its earliest days of existence. No, it was what waited within its ebony folds that taught mankind to fear the dark.
T
hey would eventually call him He Who Kills the Darkness.
But in the beginning, he was known simply as Atuk, son of Elab.
The valley folk had been two hundred strong, living peacefully in a lush, jungle basin that in five millennia would be part of North America.
Atuk knew that he was different; somehow more in tune to the dangers of life in those early days of the world.
And this set him apart from the others.
Deep down, Atuk knew that he had a special purpose; that it was something far above being the strongest, or the most handsome to the females in the tribe. He was meant for something of much greater importance.
And it was when the children of his tribe began to disappear during the nights that he sensed his time had come.
The tribe’s warriors set a trap for the predator, hoping to catch what they were certain was some cowardly beast that came in when the sun had set, for it feared the strength of the valley folks’ most mighty.
As it had done before, the night hunter came in search of children, but found the warriors instead. And even though they were the bravest and strongest of the tribe, they too were taken.
The valley folk were paralyzed with fear, for if their most powerful could be taken with such ease, what hope did the others have?
As the elders discussed what was to befall them, and the women cried over the loss of their children and their brave men, Atuk felt an awakening.
Not brave enough, or strong enough, to have stood with the tribe’s warriors, he had instead watched from the shadows, and had seen what hunted them. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before: not animal, not man, and Atuk knew that it did not belong in this world; that it had come from some dark and awful place.
He also knew that he was destined to destroy it.
Atuk tried to explain this to the elders, but they scoffed at him. The women were even more cruel, mocking him for even thinking he could be as great as those who had been lost to the beast that stalked them, he was just a boy.
But Atuk did not listen to any voice other than the one inside him, the voice of his newly awakened instincts taking him down the path to his destiny.
He found himself thinking of the dark hunter: how it moved with such amazing speed, using the shadows to conceal its presence, and how its glistening black flesh could not be pierced by the stone tips of the warriors’ hunting spears.
And in these details he saw how he would confront the enemy of his people, and defeat it.
Atuk ventured out into the wild, accompanied by the jeers of those who remained, for they believed he was running off to hide in fear.
First he needed a weapon, something stronger than the points at the end of the warriors’ spears; and he found it at the base of the fire mountain. The rocks, flung from the open mouth of the mountain when it was angry, were as black as the flesh of the hunter, and seemed just as tough. Atuk worked the rock, sharpening the edges and filing the tip to a point that he was certain could pierce his enemy’s tough hide.
But his search for the black stone had taken far more time than he had imagined, forcing him to be away from his village when night fell again. Atuk imagined the screams of those remaining as the hunter came for them. His only solace was in knowing that he would soon destroy it in the names of those who had been taken by the foul monster.