Free Gregor the Overlander - 1 by Suzanne Collins Page B

predictions of what would happen in the future. Most religions had them, and his grandma loved a book of them by a guy named Nostra-something. To hear her talk, the future was pretty depressing.

    "Sandwich was a visionary," said Vikus. "He foretold many things that have happened to our people."

    "And a bunch that haven't?" asked Gregor, trying to sound innocent. He hadn't ruled out prophecies entirely, but he was skeptical about anything Sandwich came up with. Besides, even if someone told you something that would happen in the future, what could you do about it?

    "Some we have not yet unraveled," admitted Vikus. "He foretold my parents' end," said Luxa sorrow fully, running her fingers over part of the wall. "There was no mystery in that."

    Vikus put his arm around her and looked at the wall. "No," he agreed softly. "That was as clear as water."

    Gregor felt awful for about the tenth time that night. From now on, whatever he thought, he would try to talk about the prophecies with respect.

    "But there is one that hangs most heavily over our heads. It is called 'The Prophecy of Gray,' for we know not whether it be fair or foul," said Vikus. "We do know that it was to Sandwich the most sacred and maddening of his visions. For he could never see the outcome, although it came to him many times."

    Vikus gestured to a small oil lamp that illuminated a panel of the wall. It was the only light in the room besides the torch. Maybe they kept it burning constantly.

    "Will you read?" asked Vikus, and Gregor approached the panel. The prophecy was written like a poem, in four parts. Some of the lettering was odd, but he could make it out.

    "A-B-C," said Boots, touching the letters. Gregor began to read.

    Beware, Underlanders, time hangs by a thread. The hunters are hunted, white water runs red. The gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest. The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest.

    An Overland warrior, a son of the sun, -May bring us back light, he may bring us back none. But gather your neighbors and follow his call Or rats will most surely devour us all.

    Two over, two under, of royal descent, Two flyers, two crawlers, two spinners assent.
    One gnawer beside and one lost up ahead. And eight will be left when we count up the dead.

    The last who will die must decide where he stands.

    The fate of the eight is contained in his hands. So bid him take care, bid him look where he leaps,

    AS life may be death and death life again reaps.

    Gregor finished the poem and didn't know quite what to say. He blurted out, "What's that mean?"

    Vikus shook his head. "No one knows for certain.

    It tells of a dark time when the future of our people is undecided. It calls for a journey, not just of humans but of many creatures, which may lead either to salvation or ruin. The journey will be led by an Overlander."

    "Yeah, well, I got that part. This warrior guy," said Gregor.

    "You asked why the rats hate Overlanders so deeply. It is because they know one will be the warrior of the prophecy," said Vikus.

    "Oh, I see," said Gregor. "So, when's he coming?"

CHAPTER 11
    Gregor awoke from a fitful sleep. Images of bloodred rivers, his dad surrounded by rats, and

    Boots falling into bottomless caverns had woven in and out of his dreams all night long.

    Oh, yeah. And then there was that warrior thing.

    He had tried to tell them. When Vikus had implied that he was the warrior in "The Prophecy of Gray," Gregor had actually laughed. But the man was serious.

    "You've got the wrong guy," Gregor had said. "Really, I promise, I'm not a warrior."

    Why pretend and get their hopes up? Samurai warriors, Apache warriors, African warriors, medieval warriors. He'd seen movies. He'd read books. He didn't in any way resemble any warrior. First of all, they were grown up and they usually had a lot of special weaponry.
    Gregor was eleven and, unless you counted a two-year-old sister as special weaponry, he'd come empty-handed.

    Also, Gregor was not into