The Prince Warriors

by Priscilla Shirer

  Then Manuel sneezed.

  He’d been holding it for as long as he could, but he just couldn’t hold it anymore. Levi whipped around and stared at him. Manuel mouthed the word sorry.

  But it was too late. The Forger spun around, its laser beam eyes zeroing in on them.

  “Run!” Xavier shouted. He sprinted away, leading the others on a mad scramble through the maze of girders, the thundering steps of the Forger growing ever nearer. They came to a long, metal staircase that descended into darkness below. “This way!” he ordered as he tore down the steps, taking them two at a time, his boots clanging noisily against the metal surface. The others followed as quickly as they could. Manuel stumbled and nearly knocked Levi over. “Sorry!” he whispered again. Levi recovered his balance—being a skateboarder came in handy sometimes—and grabbed Manuel before he fell all the way down.

  When Xavier reached the bottom he saw a large steel door in front of him. He grabbed the metal handle and pulled. It didn’t move. Locked.

  Dead end.

  The breastplates went dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Key to Freedom

  Xavier yanked the door handle again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. He turned, pressing his back to the door, facing the others as they came down the steps.

  “It’s locked,” he said.

  “Are you sure you followed the armor?” Levi asked, panting.

  “I thought I did—” I did. Didn’t I? Xavier tried to think. They had been moving so fast, and the breastplate had changed directions a lot—perhaps he took a wrong turn?

  There was no time to think about it. The Forger had made it to the stairs and was coming down, each step an echoing boom, radiating into the kids’ very souls.

  “Ruwach . . .” Brianna whispered, pleading for their guide to come and help them. She inched closer to Levi, her fingers gripping his sleeve. The others huddled closer together, preparing for the worst.

  “I’m sorry,” Manuel whispered. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t sneezed—”

  “Shh,” said Evan.

  The red glowing eyes focused on the kids as the Forger clomped down the steps. It seemed to be taking its time, as if it enjoyed making the kids tremble. Brianna whimpered a little, turning her face away so she couldn’t see. The Forger came closer, stretching out one metal arm toward Brianna, its fingers straightening.

  Xavier knew that one touch from the Forger and Brianna would start to turn into metal. But if it just touched me, he thought, then she—and the others—might have time to get away. He can’t grab us all at the same time. He was surprised that what he felt was less like fear and more like a need to protect his friends, give them a chance to escape. He stepped in front of Brianna and moved toward the Forger.

  “Xavi!” whispered Evan, seeing what he was doing. The others gasped. But Xavier kept moving into the path of the Forger. He saw the metal hand reaching now toward him.

  “Run!” he whispered to his friends. He shut his eyes, waiting for the cold, hard touch of the Forger’s fingers to graze his skin.

  It never did.

  After a moment, Xavier opened his eyes and saw small twinkling puffs of light flitting around the Forger’s face like mosquitoes. Sparks. The Forger shook its head violently, its glowing eyes spinning in circles to track their movement. The Sparks seemed to be leaving light trails in intricate patterns as they danced around the Forger’s metal head. The patterns were beautiful and everchanging in a myriad of colors—the Forger was mesmerized by them.

  Manuel gaped at the spectacle of the Forger and the Sparks. But then he noticed something dangling from the Forger’s thick metal belt—it was long and black, with a kind of scrolled handle, like one of those ornate iron gates in front of fancy houses. It was different from everything else he’d seen in Skot’os so far—it had delicacy, symmetry . . . even beauty.

  And then he realized what it was.

  A key.

  The instruction from The Book mentioned something about a key. And Ruwach had said a key had been stolen. Maybe this was the key he’d been talking about. Maybe this key opened the door of the prison.

  He glanced at the others—none of them seemed to notice the key. They were all focused on the Sparks. Xavier was still frozen in place, the Forger’s finger inches from his face. Manuel took a deep breath, gathering his courage, then began to creep toward the Forger.

  He tripped, falling forward over the Forger’s large armored boot. His glasses flew off his face and clattered against its leg. He held his breath, sure he would be caught in the Forger’s deadly grip. But it seemed not to notice. The Sparks had woven a net of light around its head.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Xavier, watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t move a muscle, aware that any movement might draw the Forger’s attention away from the Sparks.

  “The key—” Manuel said, pointing upward in the vague direction of the belt. When he looked up, he realized he could see the key perfectly well. He could see everything, in fact. Without his glasses.

  “Can you reach it?” Xavier asked, still in a very soft voice.

  Manuel nodded with new confidence, stepped over the Forger’s boot, and snatched the key off its belt. It was a lot heavier than he supposed, and Manuel fumbled a moment, nearly dropping it. Yet the Forger took no notice of him. Manuel waited another moment to be sure, then scrambled back to the others.

  “I got it!” he said, holding the key up so Xavier could see it.

  “Try it in the door!” Levi said in a hushed voice.

  “First, get your glasses,” Xavier murmured.

  “But I don’t need them—”

  “You can’t leave anything behind. It’s one of the rules.”

  Manuel remembered reading that on the scroll in the Cave. He nodded and went to retrieve his glasses, lying right next to the Forger’s boot. There was a big crack in one of the lenses. He stuck them in his pocket for safekeeping.

  “Okay,” Xavier whispered slowly. “Now open the door.”

  Manuel crept over to the door and jammed the key into the padlock. For one awful second he was sure it wouldn’t fit, but then he jiggled it and finally it turned, the lock snapping open.

  “I got it!”

  “Go on,” said Xavier. “Go through the door, all of you. I’ll follow you.”

  Manuel heaved on the heavy door. The others joined in to help. The door scraped against the floor and squealed loudly in protest, as if it hadn’t been opened in a very long time. The sound caught the attention of the Forger, whose head swiveled toward them, its red eyes spinning crazily, still blinded by the web of light created by the Sparks. Its arms began to flail about, searching for the source of the noise.

  “Quick!” said Xavier. “Go through!” He spun around, ducking to avoid the Forger’s thrashing arms, as the others rushed to the open door. Once they were all through, Xavier turned and slipped through the door, pulling out the key as he did so and shutting it tightly behind him. He slid the key into his boot for safekeeping.

  “Let’s hope the Sparks can keep that guy busy for a while,” he said with a deep sigh.

  He saw that they were in a long, narrow room lined with cages, eerily lit by dozens of green-glowing lightbulbs dangling from a high ceiling. The walls dripped with something slimy and fetid, and the air smelled of dead things.

  “It’s the prison,” said Evan. His voice did not echo at all, the sound deadened by the heavy gloom of the place.

  “Rook is in here somewhere,” Levi said.

  “It’s gross,” Brianna said. “Stinky.”

  “But there are so many cells!” Evan said. “How are we going to know which one Rook is in?”

  “We’ll have to look in every cell,” Xavier said. “Levi, you, Manuel, and Brianna take that side, and Evan and I will take this s
ide. Call out if you find him. Better hurry too. There’s probably more of those Forgers around this place.”

  * * *

  The prisoners stared at the young warriors as they filed past. Some were completely metal, like the Forger. Others seemed more human, only parts of their bodies metalized—arms, legs, torsos. They all had shackles around their ankles and wrists, so when they moved, the chains scraped on the floor and echoed against the walls.

  Levi walked from cell to cell, gazing into the faces of each of the prisoners. The light from his breastplate reflected in their eyes—most seemed empty, pupil-less, as if their souls had deserted them. Even the ones that still had human skin stared at him blankly, devoid of emotion. Others just growled or moaned. Levi wasn’t afraid—he felt sorry for them.

  He passed by one prisoner but then stopped, turning back. This one was mostly metal—only the fingers of one hand were still flesh. But its eyes were different. They were tender, human, not hollow and wasted. They looked back at Levi with something like sorrow. Levi saw several streaks on the prisoner’s metal face—he realized they were the tracks of tears.

  He remembered his own tears when he was stuck in the dome, turning to metal. How full of remorse he had been, for himself, for what he had done. He hadn’t been able to escape—but he had been able to cry.

  “Hey, guys,” Levi said softly, “I think I found him.”

  “You did?” Brianna said, going over to him.

  Levi looked between the bars, studying the face before him. “Are you Rook?” he asked. The other kids had gathered to stare at the prisoner, who rose and limped toward them, dragging his chains. He grasped the cell bars, pressing his metal face between them. A fresh tear fell down his rusted cheek.

  “You c-c-c . . .” the prisoner’s voice crackled, like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. He shook his head and tried again. “You came, for me?”

  Levi took the scroll from his pocket and held it out. Rook stared at it blankly for only a moment before he reached to grasp it with his human fingers. It shook in his hand. He pressed it against his metal hand for leverage and cracked the seal, unrolling the scroll and reading the contents.

  Once freed, always free.

  “Free?” Rook whispered. “I am . . . free?”

  Levi nodded. He smiled tentatively at the prisoner, as if to reassure him. “Ruwach told us to bring you that message.”

  Evan, Brianna, Xavier, and Manuel each nodded a greeting to Rook, who looked from one to the other in astonishment, unable to speak. He read the scroll again. Once freed, always free. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “I didn’t think I could ever be free again . . .” His voice sounded squeaky, like a hinge in need of oil. He lowered his head, and the kids saw more tears fall from his eyes, creating more rusty streaks on his metal face. “I never thought anyone would come for me.”

  Xavier pulled the key out of his boot and handed it to Levi, who stuck it in the lock on the prisoner’s door. He turned it, and it clicked a few times before the door creaked open.

  “The chains!” Manuel said.

  “This key won’t fit in those locks,” said Xavier, holding the key close to one of Rook’s shackles. “It’s way too big.”

  “Maybe there’s a saw or hammer or something down here we can use,” said Evan. The kids began hunting around for something heavy that would break the chains. Levi just stood motionless, staring at the scroll in Rook’s metal hand.

  “Ruwach said that that scroll was all you would need to be free,” he said finally. “Use it.”

  “But how?”

  Levi wasn’t sure. He just chose to believe what Ruwach had said anyway. Without warning, the scroll began to turn red, like it had caught fire.

  “Hey, look!” Levi said, pointing. Rook looked down at the scroll and dropped it, jumping away in alarm. A thin ribbon of smoke wafted up from one end of the scroll.

  Just then Levi had an idea. “Use the scroll!” he said. “Use it on the chains!”

  Rook hesitated but then clumsily picked up the smoldering scroll with his metal hand and pressed it against one of the shackles around his wrist. The iron began to turn red, heating up as if the scroll was actually melting it. The kids gathered at the bars to watch in awe as the scroll—made of paper—sizzled and melted the heavy shackle around Rook’s wrist until it broke open and fell away.

  “Whoa,” said Evan.

  Rook could not hide his excitement. He pressed the burning scroll to the other wrist iron, watching it melt and fall away as the first one had. He spread his arms wide, just because he could, and let out a soft cry of joy. For a sacred moment, gladness wafted through the dank hollow halls of the dungeon.

  It was cut off by a pounding on the door of the prison, so loud and fearsome it made the green bulbs shiver on their chains. The kids looked up, shrinking away in sudden fear.

  “Forgers,” Xavier said. “Sounds like a bunch of them. They found us.”

  “Quick! Your legs!” Levi said. Rook hurried to burn away the leg shackles with the scroll, but it took an agonizingly long time. The commotion grew louder, and the lightbulbs quaked and swung about, some of them breaking, causing an explosion of sparks. The kids ducked to avoid being hit with glass shards.

  “We need to get out of here,” Manuel said over and over, his arms over his head.

  Rook stepped through the open door of his prison cell. “Thank you,” he whispered, trying to smile despite the metal of his face. “Thank you. For coming to get me.”

  The door suddenly seemed to explode off its hinges. Voices like growling dogs echoed throughout the prison chamber. It was hard to see anything, for very few of the lightbulbs were still burning.

  “Can’t get out that way,” Xavier said, indicating the door.

  “We’re doomed!” wailed Manuel.

  “I know another way out,” whispered Rook. “Follow me!”

  Xavier grabbed the key from the cell door and with the others followed Rook to the far end of the prison. It seemed at first like another dead end, but then Rook knelt down and felt around on the floor with his good hand, mumbling to himself. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a lid, like a sewer cover.

  “Here it is!” he said. “Can you help me? I can’t do it alone . . .”

  The boys crouched down to pull up the round iron cover from the floor and push it aside. They looked down into the hole. Some sort of black slimy muck moved slowly below. It did not look the least bit inviting. But all their breastplates lit up, pointing the way down.

  “What is that gunk?” Brianna asked.

  “It’s sludge,” Rook said. “From the fortress. The tunnel empties into the chasm.”

  “Gross.”

  “I’ll go first.”

  “Good idea,” said Brianna.

  Rook positioned himself over the hole, which was difficult with his metal body. Then he jumped. The kids saw him fall and heard him make a squishing noise as he landed. “It’s all right!” he yelled. “Jump!”

  One by one they jumped down, Xavier waiting until last. He could see the Forgers approaching, hear their snarling voices as they rattled the cages of the prisoners, searching for the intruders. Xavier looked at the iron cover—he wouldn’t be able to move it back over the hole and jump down at the same time. The Forgers would see where they went, eventually. But there wasn’t much he could do about that.

  Xavier dropped into the thick muck of the tunnel. He sank up to his ankles. The horrible sound of the Forgers echoed against the metal walls of the prison above. Brianna covered her ears.

  “We need to go this way!” said Rook in a loud whisper, pointing in one direction.

  “No, this way,” said Brianna, pointing the opposite way. “We have to follow the armor.”

  “No, no—that will lead to the chasm!” Rook said. “You don’t want to go that way. I
t’s a dead end!”

  “Well, we are going that way,” said Evan. “You want to come with us or not?”

  Rook tried to argue, but it was no use. The kids’ minds were made up. He followed them down the mucky tunnel, which twisted and turned several times before it ended, as he knew it would, at a culvert that emptied into the chasm over the rushing stream far below.

  “I told you this was the wrong way!” said Rook. “There’s no way out here! If we go back the other way, we might be able to get out and make it to the bridge—”

  “There is no bridge anymore,” said Levi.

  “No bridge?” said Rook, not understanding. “Then how did you get here?”

  The kids stood together at the edge of the culvert, looking toward the cliff on the other side. Rook had no idea what they were doing.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. They seemed to be waiting for something. He followed their gazes, but he saw nothing.

  “Up there!” said Evan, pointing. Rook looked toward where he was pointing, at a small, flickering light shining out from the edge of the cliff on the other side.

  Then, to his horror, he saw Evan take a step off the ledge into the chasm.

  “Stop!” he shouted. But too late—except that Evan didn’t fall down. A stone step had appeared under his foot. He continued to step up like he was going up a set of invisible stairs, and the stones continued to appear. Xavier and Brianna quickly followed in Evan’s footsteps. Manuel did the same thing. Rook was astounded. It must be the boots, he thought. He’d had some like that once, but they’d never done anything so impossible. Or maybe they did, and he just couldn’t remember. He looked down at his metal, bootless feet.

  Just before he stepped into the chasm, Levi turned to see Rook looking down hopelessly at his feet. He suddenly realized what was wrong. Rook couldn’t cross—he didn’t have boots.

  The other kids were already moving quickly up the stairs to the other side. Levi paused and looked down the tunnel. Perhaps Rook could go back, he thought. Take another route . . . But then the footsteps of approaching Forgers resounded in the tunnel. No, that route was blocked. The Forgers would be upon them in moments.