The Prince Warriors and the Unseen Invasion

by Priscilla Shirer

  Maybe they were never going back.

  But they had to go back. For one thing, they didn’t have their full sets of armor. Only the belt, breastplate, and boots. A real Warrior needed more than that. They still had to get the shield, the helmet, and the sword. The sword—that’s what Evan really wanted. A real, beautiful, majestic sword. A Forger-slaying sword.

  If he had that sword, those two girls in the next seat would be too busy staring in awe to even think of making fun of him.

  The bus stopped at the Rec. That’s what he and the others called the Cedar Creek Recreational Center. Most of the kids, including Charlie with the runny nose, got off the bus. Normally Evan would have gotten off there too. Xavier and his friends were probably there already, playing basketball. But Evan didn’t want to play basketball in his itchy, button-down shirt, and he’d forgotten to bring an extra set of clothes. He would just go home to change and ask his mom to drive him over to the Rec later.

  When the bus screeched to a stop at his house, Evan got up, shoving his phone in his backpack. He walked quickly toward the front as the folding doors squealed open to let him out. The rain had let up a bit, but he put up his hood anyway. It was a long walk to his house; the pebble driveway dipped down toward a bridge over the creek and up another hill. Evan liked to imagine he was back in Ahoratos again, running through the woods, jumping over the deep chasm that separated Skot’os, the dark side of Ahoratos, from the rest of that golden kingdom. He liked to imagine he was building the bridge with his feet, as he had done the last time he was there. That had been amazing—stepping up into the sky, the stones forming under his boots as he went . . .

  “You gonna just stand there admiring the view?”

  Evan turned to the voice—Miss Lois, the bus driver. Her crinkly eyes smiled at him. She had spiky gray hair and lots of red lipstick; she reminded Evan of a kindly, grandmotherly sort of gargoyle.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, jumping off the bus.

  “You take care now, Evan,” Miss Lois said, shutting the doors. The bus rumbled away.

  Evan watched it go, bouncing over ruts in the road, fountains of muddy water shooting up from the wheels.

  The wheels of the bus go round and round. . . .

  What made him think of that baby song? That snot-nosed kid Charlie, probably. You need to get a grip, he said to himself. You’re a Prince Warrior, right? Not a little kid anymore.

  It was still raining, so he put up his hood and was about to head down the drive when he remembered: the mail. Because it was such a long walk from the road to the house, his mom had told him and his brother to please stop and check the mailbox whenever they were on their way home. Xavier usually forgot, but Evan didn’t mind getting the mail. It was like having a job, in a way. And it always gave him brownie points with Mom, who liked it when he remembered to do things without being told a hundred times.

  He walked over to the mailbox, which was nestled in a bunch of tall brownish stalks his mother called “grass.” It didn’t look like grass to Evan, but Mom had lots of weird names for things. He pulled on the mailbox door. It stuck, as it always did, so he had to pull extra hard. The box was full. Mondays—it was always the fullest on Mondays.

  He pulled out the letters and magazines, balancing them so he wouldn’t drop any on the wet ground.

  He’d just gotten everything out and folded the magazines around the letters securely when he heard something—a zap, a sizzle, like an electric spark. He thought at first an overhead wire had been hit by lightning, although he hadn’t seen any lightning. This wasn’t a lightning kind of rain.

  He looked up at the tall poles that held the wires like tightropes all the way down the road. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash. But it didn’t come from the pole. It came from the house across the street.

  He squinted at the house. Manuel lived there. He’d been amazed to discover that Manuel lived right across the street from him. Evan hadn’t actually been to Manuel’s house, mainly because Manuel had never invited him. Manuel kept to himself most of the time, probably studying the effects of photon rays on ladybugs or building an anti-gravity machine in his room.

  Another flash. Maybe Manuel was messing with something even worse than anti-gravity. (Evan wasn’t exactly sure what anti-gravity was, but it sounded kind f dangerous.) He stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then there was another flash that lasted even longer, and Evan felt sure something was really wrong. Maybe there was a . . . fire! He sprinted into action, holding the mail under one arm like a football as he ran across the street and up the steep driveway to Manuel’s house.

  He didn’t notice that one of the letters in his bundle, a bright red envelope, had slipped out and tumbled into the tall brownish stalks beside the mailbox. As it fell, it let off a sprinkle of light. But Evan didn’t notice that either.

  Chapter 3

  A Narrow Escape

  We’re going to die now.

  That and other dismal thoughts filled Rook’s mind as he and Finn and the girl with the red hair plummeted toward the rocky landscape below. Dense fog swirled around blackened trees. Scraggy mountain peaks stood like giant spikes, ready to impale them.

  Rook closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what he was about to crash into.

  Suddenly he hit something, and he felt his stomach lurch up into his throat. But the something on which he landed kept moving, as if he were still falling.

  Rook felt the wind rush into his eyes as he opened them, gazing into the turbulent red sky. He had landed—all three of them had landed—on something slimy and scaly, and they were wedged between wide spikes. . . .

  Tannyn!

  Rook laughed out loud as he realized they were sitting on the back of a familiar friend, the flying dragon/sea monster with wings as wide as a 747. The red-haired girl was laughing too.

  “You could have told me!” Rook shouted over the roar of the wind. Tannyn swerved to avoid a skypod, one of many huge, lumpy gray objects that floated in the angry sky.

  “That wouldn’t have been any fun!” the girl shouted back, her voice nearly carried off in the wind. “I’m Ivy, by the way!”

  “Oh—I’m Rook! This is—Finn—” Rook nodded toward the half-metal prisoner who clung to one of Tannyn’s spikes. Finn looked way too petrified to answer.

  “Yeah, I know. Ruwach told me. Hang on!”

  The dragon dipped into valleys and careened around mountains. Rook knew Tannyn was just having fun more than anything. He didn’t get out of the water very often.

  Rook glanced down and saw a gray cloud racing toward them. “Ents! Below!” he shouted to Tannyn, who drew back his head and let out a stream of blue fire. The large metallic insects, like mechanized butterflies, shrieked in alarm, the sound like a thousand nails against a thousand chalkboards. The humans winced at the awful sound, unable to cover their ears because they had to hold on tight to Tannyn’s spikes. But the blast of fire-breath gave Tannyn a clear path through the swarm.

  “Good boy!” Rook shouted once they were out of danger. The Ent swarm tried to follow but couldn’t keep up with Tannyn, who, once he got going, was as fast as a golden eagle diving for prey.

  The sky changed from red to gold as they passed over the chasm that separated Skot’os from the other side of Ahoratos. The Bridge of Tears—the only bridge that spanned the chasm—changed from a network of black metal girders to quaint, moss-covered cobblestones. The landscape changed as well: the mountains looked majestic rather than threatening, the forests went from black and forbidding to green and rolling. Flowers appeared, breaking up the rolling green meadows with wild splashes of color. They were far enough away from the fortress now; Rook began to relax and enjoy the ride.

  “What . . . is . . . this thing?” The former prisoner shouted to Rook as if he’d just recovered himself enough to speak. “It looks like a—dragon—”

&nbs
p; “Oh, yeah,” Rook yelled back at him. “Tannyn is sort of a dragon, but not exactly. He’s not dangerous. At least, not to us.”

  “He’s good for roasting marshmallows too!” Ivy added with a laugh.

  They circled around a wide, very tall mountain, so tall it disappeared into a cloud above. It was the tallest mountain by far in the kingdom of Ahoratos. Rook glanced back to see Finn’s awed expression.

  “What . . . is . . . this mountain?” gasped the prisoner, unable to take in the size of it.

  “You’ll find out, eventually,” Rook said.

  Suddenly, Tannyn swerved and dove straight for a shorter peak ringed by white, puffy clouds.

  “Hey! We’re going to crash!” shouted Finn, who saw the mountain coming straight for them. The other two only laughed.

  “Better hang on!” Rook yelled. “Tannyn’s not great on landings.”

  Tannyn barreled into the clouds, which parted to reveal a huge, shining castle. Finn gasped at the endless array of turrets and towers, almost forgetting to hang on as the dragon bumped and slid across the wide courtyard, skidding to a halt in front of a large, ornate gate that gleamed as if it were made of diamonds.

  “He’s better at water landings,” Ivy said. Rook laughed. Finn looked stunned, his human parts turning green like he was going to be sick.

  Tannyn opened his mouth as if preparing to let out another stream of fire. “Gorp.” It sounded like a prolonged burp. The huge creature folded his wings and lowered his head so his passengers could dismount. Ivy went first, scrambling down Tannyn’s long neck to the smooth marble pavement. Rook followed, helping Finn negotiate the dragon’s spiky neck to get to solid ground.

  “You okay?” Rook asked the former prisoner. Finn nodded, still wobbly. He gazed in awe at the beautiful castle in front of him. A castle nestled in the clouds, sparkling brilliantly in the sun. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Yes . . . I’m okay, but . . . am I really . . . free?” he stuttered.

  “Yes, thanks to Ruwach,” Rook said.

  “Who?”

  Just then the shining gate began to open, revealing a very tiny creature cloaked in purple. His face was hidden deep inside the purple hood, although Rook thought he could see two small radiant lights that might have been eyes peering out at them.

  “Ruwach!” said Ivy happily, running to him. She reached down to give Ruwach a hug around his cloaked neck. Rook had never seen anyone touch—let alone hug—Ruwach before.

  “Good to see you, Princess Ivy,” Ruwach said in his large, sonorous voice, so much bigger than his tiny form. He turned to Rook, who knelt, bowing his head, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “And you, Prince Rook. You released another prisoner; well done. I’m glad to see you managed to find your way back.”

  Rook could hear the slight sarcasm in Ruwach’s tone. “I was fine,” he said, with a sidelong glance at Ivy. “But . . . I appreciate the extra help.”

  “No biggie,” said Ivy, smirking at him.

  “Anyway, this is . . .”

  “Finn,” said Ruwach, the hood turning toward Finn. “You have been a prisoner a long time, haven’t you?”

  Finn nodded, glancing down at his mostly metal body. This was what happened to prisoners in Skot’os. They gradually turned to metal, their humanness fading away, until they looked no different from the Forgers—the fearsome minions of Ponéros, the enemy. “There isn’t much left of me to save.”

  “Do you want to be healed?”

  Finn looked down at the little guide, surprised. “You—can do that?”

  “I can. But you must want it.”

  Finn tried to nod a sure affirmation, although his head would not move much.

  “Of course I do. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

  “You would be surprised,” said Ruwach with a deep sigh. The little guide approached Finn slowly, raising one of his long, draped arms. A hand emerged from the cloak, each finger a thin white flame. Finn drew back nervously, but the hand reached for him, touching his metal skin. The touch was very warm, burning through the metal parts of him. He gasped but soon felt the hard shell begin to melt off of him, turning to a fine dust that floated away on the breeze. He suddenly felt lighter, freer than he had ever felt before. He looked at his legs, both of them turned to human flesh. He touched his face—it was no longer cold and hard, but soft, like real skin. He fell to his knees, bowing before Ruwach, weeping with relief and gratitude.

  Rook watched this scene, his heart twisting with the memory of his own melting, not so long ago. Having received that gift for himself, he was determined to help free as many prisoners as possible. It was why he returned to Skot’os over and over again, despite the danger.

  Once freed, always free.

  Those were the words that had melted his chains.

  “You have the key, Prince Rook?” Ruwach asked.

  Rook nodded, pulling the long, shiny black key from his pocket and holding it like a delicate, invaluable gem. This was the key that had opened his own prison cell not that long ago. It had an ornate, scroll-y bow with an odd-shaped bit that extended from the tip.

  “I will keep this safe until you return.” Ruwach turned to Ivy. “Princess Ivy, I believe you already know what I need you to do now,” he said softly.

  For the first time, Ivy looked uncertain. “I’m not really sure I’m the right person for the job.”

  “You are the right one,” Ruwach said, patting her shoulder. “Do not be afraid, Princess Ivy. You know that when I give you a task, I also give you everything you need to complete it.”

  Ivy smiled, nodding. She gave Ruwach another quick hug then stepped back, standing beside Rook as the gate and the castle began to fade, engulfed in clouds. From somewhere in his fading vision, Rook heard Ruwach’s voice, distant and yet very close, as if coming from inside his own mind:

  Keep a close eye on the children. . . .

  Chapter 4

  The Useless Seed

  Evan knocked frantically on the door of Manuel’s house and rang the doorbell several times. After a few minutes, the door finally opened. A man with a short crew cut glowered at him over half-rimmed glasses, a book in his hand. Evan took a small step backward.

  He’d never actually met Manuel’s father before, although he had seen him picking Manuel up at the rec center a few times. Mr. Santos was always really stern and silent; he never talked to anyone. Manuel had said his dad was a college professor, and so Evan figured he was probably really smart and didn’t have much time for people who weren’t as smart as he was. Or maybe it was because Manuel’s mom had died the year before, and his dad was still really sad about that.

  “Can I help you?” asked Manuel’s dad in a clipped, Spanish accent. Something in his dark gaze made Evan quake a little, as if he had picked the absolute worst time to visit.

  “Um . . . Hello. Mr. Santos? I’m Evan . . . from over there—” Evan indicated the property across the street. “I’m a friend of Manuel’s. I was getting off the bus, and I saw something . . . in the window up there . . . thought there might be trouble . . .”

  “Trouble?” The man sighed, his expression softening a bit. “There is no trouble. I can assure you. That’s just Manuel. Doing an experiment. Happens all the time. . . . What did you say your name was?”

  “Evan.”

  “Oh, yes. Evan. Manuel mentioned you, I believe. Come in, if you want.” He called up the stairs. “Manuel! Evan está aquí!”

  Evan glanced around quickly as he moved toward the staircase. He noticed a room to his left; the door was ajar, and he could see that it was jammed with books and papers. Probably Mr. Santos’s study. The shelves contained what looked like lots and lots of rocks and artifacts and stuff that smart people collect.

  He was just about to look away when something caught his eye. There, centered on the stately wooden desk was . . . a
book. A large book with pages that seemed worn and aged. Something about it—the size, the frayed edges, the sketched image he could see faintly on the opened page—all of it seemed familiar to Evan. He squinted curiously and leaned closer toward the door to get a better look, but Mr. Santos blocked his way, half closing the door.

  “Go on up. First door on the left. Excuse me. I have some work to do.” Manuel’s dad slipped through the door, shutting it behind him. Evan shrugged to himself and darted quickly up the steps. He went down the hallway, past a door on his right—a neat bedroom with hardly anything in it. Manuel wasn’t in there. Evan kept going until he reached the door on the left. It was slightly open, so he peeked in through the opening then knocked lightly. There was no response. He could see Manuel hunched over something, working intently, but Evan couldn’t tell what he was doing. Evan carefully pushed the door open and gazed around the room. He had never seen anything like it.

  Manuel’s room looked more like a mad scientist’s laboratory than a bedroom. Books and mason jars containing bizarre specimens lined the shelves along the wall. In the window sat several weird-looking plants in pots. Manuel’s desk was covered in more mason jars and beakers, books and papers, and a computer. A mobile of the solar system hung over the bed, on which lay a rumpled bedspread imprinted with a huge picture of Albert Einstein, his spiky wisps of white hair shooting all the way up to the pillow. There wasn’t a single bit of shelf space or desk space or even floor space left bare.

  Manuel was bent over a tiny object hooked up to electrodes. He appeared to be waiting for it to do something. He was so intent on his mission that he didn’t even hear Evan knock on the door for the second time.

  “Manuel?” Evan said.

  Manuel lurched upright, his thick red glasses nearly flying off his face.

  “Evan?” he said, shocked. “What are you . . . ? How did you get here?”

  “I live across the street, remember?”

  “Oh, right . . . of course . . .” Manuel shook his head as if clearing out cobwebs. “I forgot.”