The Prince Warriors

by Priscilla Shirer

  “Stellar.”

  Epilogue

  Ruwach moved through the silent halls of the Cave, toward the room with the empty box. Rook followed more slowly, gazing around him at this place he had not been for so long—a place he thought he would never be again. It was a miracle, he thought, that he was back in the Cave. That Ruwach had allowed him to come back.

  He watched Ruwach’s white glowing hand emerge from the long sleeve—it contained the key Xavier had given him. The key that had opened Rook’s prison door.

  “What will you do with it?” he asked the guide.

  “You will keep it safe.” Ruwach held the key out to Rook.

  “Me?” Rook hung back, not wanting to touch it. “No . . .”

  “Yes, this is your mission now. To protect this key. Make sure it does not fall back into Ponéros’s hands.”

  “He has plenty more prison keys,” Rook said.

  “Yes, but every one we wrest from him—is a victory.”

  After a moment Rook reached out and took the key. He placed it in his pocket.

  “You know Ponéros will be angry when he realizes I’m gone,” he said.

  “He knows already,” Ruwach said. “We must prepare the warriors. Ponéros suffered a defeat today. He will . . . retaliate.”

  “Have you told James?”

  “Yes. He will watch over them. As will we.”

  Rook nodded. “But the key . . . the one that opens the doors to the warriors’ rooms . . . do you want me to go back and get it? Because I will, you know. I owe you that.”

  Ruwach shook his hooded head slowly. “You have done enough. I will do the rest.” The hand withdrew. “Go in peace, Prince Rook. I will call for you when I need you again.”

  Rook smiled and turned away, glancing down one of the dark tunnels. He could just see the outline of one of the locked doors. He felt a pang of longing—he still did not know what was in them. Why hadn’t he opened his door when he had first stolen the key? At the time he hadn’t cared—he could think of nothing but the glorious riches Ponéros had promised him. It had never occurred to him to wonder why Ponéros was so determined to have the key. And now, it was probably lost for good.

  He glanced back and realized Ruwach was no longer there. He was alone in the room, with the empty box. He took a deep breath, putting his hand inside his pocket to feel the prison key. Keep it safe, Ruwach had commanded. And he would. But he would also use it. Because there were many other prisoners who needed to be set free.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, into the air. He reached over and closed the empty box. And then he turned and left the empty room.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at book 2 . . .

  The Prince Warriors and the Unseen Invasion

  Rook knew that things were not going according to plan.

  He jumped from beam to beam, pulling his companion along with him, the prisoner he’d just released. “Hurry!” he whisper-shouted, although he knew no amount of coaxing would help. The prisoner’s legs were encased in metal, the joints stiff from disuse. His arms were still flesh, however, which made it somewhat easier for Rook to keep a grip on him.

  “I can’t,” the prisoner panted. “I . . . need . . . to . . . stop . . .”

  Rook paused to let him rest, balanced precariously on a narrow girder that hung across a stretch of empty space. Below them lay a black abyss. Above them the maze of steel girders wound upward in a twisted skeleton, blocking out most of the churning, red sky.

  It sickened him to be back in the Fortress of Chaós again—the dark castle at the edge of Skot’os, the lair of the enemy, Ponéros. Rook had escaped from this place not long before, rescued by a group of kids who had brought him a message: Once freed, always free. He’d returned to bring that message to another prisoner. He’d also brought the key.

  The key.

  It opened the prison doors. The kids had taken it from the enemy. Rook reached into his pocket, fingering the long shining object with the scrolled handle, making sure it was still there. He couldn’t lose it, whatever happened.

  “This way.” He beckoned to his companion, urging him to follow along the beam. Rook’s boots gripped the steel girder like rubber, giving him assurance he wouldn’t slip. But the prisoner’s metal feet scraped eerily, making Rook’s hair stand on end. He remembered all too well what it felt like to hobble along on metal feet, now restored to flesh, thanks to those kids. And to Ruwach, the one who had sent them.

  If only I had thought this through a little more, Rook mused to himself. Getting into the fortress had been easy, too easy. The narrow beam of light from his breastplate had lit up his path with each step. No one tried to stop him. The Forgers—the fully mechanized soldiers of Ponéros’s evil army—were nowhere in sight. Yet Rook had had the feeling he was being watched. The Ents, perhaps, those nasty metal bugs that liked to pass themselves off as butterflies. They’d probably been tracking him with their red laser eyes, unseen.

  Rook should have known better than to simply go out the same way he’d gone in. But he was so determined to free a soul and get out of that horrible place as soon as he could that he hadn’t taken proper precautions. He thought he knew the way. But the fortress seemed to have shifted around him, morphed—his path wiped away, every exit he had known blocked.

  Chaos. Confusion. That was Ponéros’s security system.

  The beam under them shuddered, forcing them to stop. Loud booms filled the air around them, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the maze of girders.

  “It’s them,” said the prisoner in a squeaky, pathetic voice. “They’re coming now.”

  Forgers, Rook thought. They had trapped him. Now they would come to retake him and the prisoner both.

  “What’s your name?” Rook asked.

  “It’s . . . F-f-finn,” stuttered the prisoner.

  “Well, Finn, we have to get to the end of this beam. And then . . . we’ll figure something out.” Rook hoped his voice didn’t sound as hopeless as he felt. He inched his way along the slender path, keeping one hand on Finn’s arm so he wouldn’t lose his balance and tumble into the abyss below them.

  After what seemed like forever, he got to the end of the girder and grabbed a vertical beam that projected from the empty space below. Finn grabbed on as well. The whole structure trembled and shook with the sound of approaching Forgers. Red, round glowing orbs appeared in the inky blackness around them, closing in.

  “Which way?” whispered Finn.

  “Up here!”

  A voice seemed to come from the sky. A young voice. A girl’s voice.

  Both Rook and Finn looked up, straining to see who had spoken. They couldn’t really see anything except small angular blotches of red sky peeking through the grid of beams overhead and . . . stars. A spray of minuscule lights seemed to be pouring in from the tangled web of girders above them. Not stars . . . Sparks, those tiny, brilliant balls of light that dwelled in the Cave. Rook felt a well of relief open in his soul. Ruwach had come! But the voice was not Ruwach’s. It definitely belonged to a young girl.

  “Come on, will you?” the girl’s voice scolded him. He could just barely see the outline of a human standing on a girder, silhouetted by fragments of the churning red sky.

  “This way! Climb!”

  How in the world did that human—a girl—get all the way up there? Maybe it was a trick. Ponéros was good at tricks. Deception was his game.

  Yet what choice did he have but to follow? A deep, unexplainable assurance settled over him, a rooted calm.

  Rook turned to Finn, whose half-human face stared back at him, fear rolling in his eyes. “Did you see that?”

  A huge Forger vaulted onto the girder they’d just crossed, its metal fists closed and ready to strike. As the Forger lunged for him, Rook drew his sword and swung, slicing off one of its metal arms. The Forger
bellowed, its red eyes spinning with rage as the severed mechanical arm broke apart and turned to dust. It stumbled backward and fell from the beam to the dark void below. But soon there was another one to take its place. And another.

  “Great,” Rook muttered to himself.

  “You coming or what?” said the voice above him.

  “How am I supposed to . . . ?”

  “Use your belt!”

  The belt!

  Rook suddenly understood. As the second Forger charged forward, Rook took off his belt—a wide, plain white belt that had no visible clasp. He tossed one end upward. It stretched out to several times its own length, the end wrapping snugly around a beam above. The belt, stretched thin, began to hum like a tightly wound guitar string. “Hold on to me!” Rook said and jumped, his boots launching him and the prisoner into the air, as more Forgers converged under them. Rook swung one leg over the beam on which his belt was wrapped, hauling himself and Finn over the top.

  “Piece of cake,” he said breathlessly, giving Finn a little encouraging smile. Finn tried to smile back with his half-metal face.

  “You’re too slow!” said the girl, who had scrambled up to an even higher perch.

  That girl was starting to get on Rook’s nerves.

  Rook looked down and saw the Forgers climbing up the steel girders toward him. Pretty nimble, he thought, for big, hulking hardware. He unwrapped his belt, threw one end up to yet another beam and jumped again, holding tightly onto Finn.

  Rook could see the girl more clearly now. She had scrambled up toward the top of the fortress, where bare beams thrust into the swirling, red-purple sky. Her fiery red hair whipped around her face in the biting wind. She held on with one hand, glancing out over the expanse of sky.

  “Come on, already!”

  Rook jumped again, Finn clinging to him, the belt propelling them ever upward. Below them Forgers continued to gather, scaling the beams, their red eyes piercing the darkness. Where on earth was that girl going? She seemed to be leading him into a trap.

  When finally Rook and his half-human charge made it to the pinnacle, the little girl with red hair greeted them with a big sigh.

  “Took you long enough,” she snipped.

  “Hey, you try dragging up a two-hundred pound hunk of metal—no offense.” Rook glanced at Finn in apology then turned back to the girl. He unwrapped his belt and refastened it around his waist, making sure his sword was still secure. The girl, he noticed, didn’t have a sword, only a belt, breastplate and boots. Like those other kids, he remembered. The ones who had rescued him. But this girl hadn’t been with them, he was pretty sure. Again, he wondered if this was a trap—if this girl were working for Ponéros himself.

  “Who are you, by the way? Did Ruwach send you? How are we getting out of here?”

  “We’re going to jump, of course!”

  “What?” Rook blinked, hoping he’d heard her wrong. The beam on which they were perched shook with the vibrations of the Forgers clambering toward them.

  “Now!” the girl said, with something like glee. “Let’s go!”

  Before he had time to react, she’d grabbed his arm and jumped straight into the turbulent sky, taking Rook and Finn with her.

  Acknowledgments

  Jerry Shirer Sr.—Thank you for being a man’s man; fearing God, honoring your family, and giving our sons—Jackson, Jerry Jr., and Jude—a compass that points the way to godly manhood. I’m forever grateful that you made me your wife and now a mother of sons. I’m asking God to make our three boys into Prince Warriors just like you.

  Jerry Jr. and Jude—Don’t panic. This series is a trilogy. The next two books are already dedicated to each of you. Your momma loves you. Your father and I are so honored that we get to raise such strong and courageous Prince Warriors as you.

  Kit and Caleb—You are genius. I could have never imagined that the little boys I’ve watched grow from newborns to curious toddlers and then creative and inspired teenagers would teach me so much. You are unbelievably intelligent, innovative, and profound young men. The insight you have added to this series is invaluable. I pray that no matter how old you get, neither of you will ever lose your brilliant imaginations. Continue to cultivate your individuality. Fitting in is overrated. YOU are the epitome of Prince Warriors.

  Gina—This book and this series could not have come to fruition without you. Your pen is a fine-tuned instrument, turning ordinary concepts into fantastical landscapes and unforgettable scenes. Thank you for being my partner—for taking characters and storylines that I’ve had tucked in my mind and unorganized computer files for years and making them come to life. You, my friend, are an answer to prayer.

  Dan, Jana, Michelle, Rachel, and the B&H Kids publishing group—Thank you for catching my vision and running alongside me to see it through to the end. Jerry and I are so honored to serve the next generation of warriors with you.

  To my nieces and nephews, Kariss, Jessica, Tre’, Kanaan, Joel, J2, Kamden, Kelsey, Kylar, Alena, Kaity, Camryn, and Olivia—You were the inspiration behind these characters. And with every page written, I asked God to make each of you courageous and faithful Prince/Princess Warriors. May the enemy shake in his boots when he sees the fire of God’s Spirit in you. The legacy of our family lives on with you.

  About the Authors

  Priscilla Shirer is a homemade cinnamon-roll baker, Bible teacher, and best-selling author who didn’t know her books (The Resolution for Women and Fervent) were on The New York Times Best Seller list until somebody else told her. Because who has time to check such things while raising three rapidly growing sons? When she and Jerry, her husband of sixteen years, are not busy leading Going Beyond Ministries, they spend most of their time cleaning up after and trying to satisfy the appetites of these guys. And that is what first drove Priscilla to dream up this fictional story about the very un-fictional topic of spiritual warfare—to help raise up a new generation of Prince Warriors under her roof. And under yours.

  Gina Detwiler was planning to be a teacher but switched to writing so she wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning. She’s written a couple of books in various genres (Avalon and Hammer of God, under the name Gina Miani) and dramas published by Lillenas and DramaMinistry, but she prefers writing (and reading) books for young people. She lives in Buffalo, New York, where it snows a lot, with her husband and three beautiful daughters. She is honored and grateful to be able to work with Priscilla on The Prince Warriors.