The Winter War, epub Read online

  The Prince Warriors Series

  Book 1

  The Prince Warriors

  Book 2

  The Prince Warriors and the Unseen Invasion

  Book 3

  The Prince Warriors and the Swords of Rhema

  Unseen: The Prince Warriors 365 Devotional

  Copyright © 2018 by Priscilla Shirer

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  978-1-4627-9675-5

  Published by B&H Publishing Group

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Dewey Decimal Classification: JF

  Subject Heading: SPIRITUAL WARFARE—FICTION

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 • 22 21 20 19 18

  For Jerry

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part 1: A Time for Everything Chapter 1: Armor of Lies

  Chapter 2: A Gathering of Princes

  Chapter 3: Battle Lines

  Chapter 4: The Iron Chariot

  Chapter 5: Nowhere to Run

  Chapter 6: The Garden

  Chapter 7: Bad Things Happening

  Part 2: A Time to Build Chapter 8: Snow Day

  Chapter 9: Difficult Gifts

  Chapter 10: The Big Stick

  Chapter 11: Ginger Girl

  Chapter 12: An Unexpected Encounter

  Chapter 13: Scouting

  Chapter 14: Leviathan

  Chapter 15: The Comeback

  Chapter 16: Home at Last

  Chapter 17: The Way Up

  Chapter 18: The Glimmer Glass

  Part 3: A Time to Live Chapter 19: The Fortress

  Chapter 20: Visiting

  Chapter 21: The Root

  Chapter 22: The Bulb

  Chapter 23: The Rock

  Chapter 24: On the Bench

  Chapter 25: Common Ground

  Chapter 26: The Right Track

  Chapter 27: Mary

  Chapter 28: Rescue Mission

  Chapter 29: Turn for the Worse

  Chapter 30: The Nameless King

  Chapter 31: Back in the Cave

  Part 4: A Time for War Chapter 32: Hiding Out

  Chapter 33: Whack-a-Mole

  Chapter 34: Sybylla

  Chapter 35: Phase Two

  Chapter 36: Great Balls of Fire

  Chapter 37: Stand Firm

  Chapter 38: Out of Hiding

  Chapter 39: The Red Dragon

  Chapter 40: Dragon Fight

  Chapter 41: Through the Night

  Chapter 42: Breaking Point

  Chapter 43: Heart’s Desire

  Chapter 44: Ask

  Chapter 45: Stand Firm

  Chapter 46: Shiny Things

  Chapter 47: All Fall Down

  Chapter 48: The Turning

  Chapter 49: Left Behind

  Chapter 50: The Dragon Returns

  Chapter 51: Victory

  Epilogue: Back to the Beginning

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Prologue

  Gavreel frowned at the creature that slithered before him, leaving a trail of inky goo on the crystal floor. It was making a terrible mess. He drew his sword; kaleidoscopes of color leapt from the blade and swirled around Gavreel’s tall, shining form, making the cowering creature before him recoil as if in pain.

  “What are you doing here, Ponéros, you miserable worm?”

  Ponéros, prince of the dark world of Skot’os, did look a bit like a worm that had just been run over by a car. But he had taken an extremely bad beating from the Prince Warriors, so it was understandable.

  With great effort, Ponéros pulled himself together, re-forming a head with eyes, a nose, and a squiggling hole that acted as a mouth. A single, tentacle-like arm popped up from the goo on the floor.

  “I . . . demand . . . an audience with the Source!” Ponéros’s voice sounded like the gurgles of a plugged-up sink. It made Gavreel’s ears ache.

  “Request denied.” Gavreel raised his sword to strike. But then he stopped and turned toward the crystal staircase behind him. The staircase led to an enormous throne, upon which sat a ball of flame so white-hot it looked like a burning star, its light stretching endlessly in all directions. Smaller, twinkling lights spun in the flame’s orbit, each one humming a note that joined the others in perfect harmony.

  Gavreel was still for a long time, listening to the glorious music emanating from the throne. A huge golden lion lying at the bottom of the staircase swished its tail and stared intently at the unwelcome visitor mucking up the floor.

  Finally, Gavreel turned back to Ponéros and lowered his sword. He sighed. “State your business. You will be heard.”

  “My business is this,” said the gurgling voice. “I demand a rematch.”

  The lion sat up and licked its lips.

  Gavreel almost laughed, his eyes blazing. “A rematch? You are no match for the Prince Warriors. Haven’t you seen that already? There is nothing you can do to penetrate their armor.”

  Ponéros made a strange noise that might have been a snicker. “Perhaps not. But this war is not over. In fact, it has just begun.”

  “You’re wrong, worm,” Gavreel said. “You have no idea how wrong. You will see. When the time comes.”

  “I have nothing but time.”

  “Wrong again. Your time is just about up.”

  Just then a great darkness passed over both Gavreel and Ponéros, and the colors ceased to shine. The lion leapt to its feet with a low growl as another figure appeared. It was small, yet it cast a long, dark shadow that seemed to consume everything it touched. Ponéros shrank back as the shadow approached, gathering himself into a ball, so he looked like a slimy armadillo.

  “Come no closer!” Gavreel’s voice lost its light tone. He raised his sword. Lightning burst from the white flame on the high throne. The figure retreated just enough so that its shadow did not touch Gavreel or the lion. Yet it remained on Ponéros.

  “Does it make you nervous to have that one so close?” Gavreel regarded Ponéros with disdain. “Then you’d best be gone.”

  “I’ll go,” Ponéros replied, more than eager to leave now. He uncurled himself and began to slink away from the figure with the great shadow.

  “But do not doubt. I will return. In Winter.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Armor of Lies

  Ponéros was delighted.

  He gazed upon his new creation, a Forger far different from the other Forgers in his army, those slave-soldiers who guarded his stronghold and fought his wars. He decided to call him Thayne. The perfect name, he thought, for the one who would destroy the Prince Warriors once and for all. Thayne was bigger, stronger, and smarter than any Forger before him. He had something else the other Forgers did not.

  A suit of armor.

  Ponéros’s Weavers had spent eons crafting this armor to make it stronger and more resilient than the armor of even the most powerful and experienced Prince Warrior. Thayne’s helmet was fused to his body armor, so thick it could never be separated or infected by the call of the Source. The helmet had a long, gleaming scythe, sharper than any sword, set right at the top. Around his waist, Thayne wore a Belt of Lies made of a magnetic metal that would repel any Prince Warrior’s sword. His heavy breastplate was riveted to
the belt, protecting the orb in the center of his chest from ever being pierced. His boots were so massive they could crush ten Prince Warriors with one small step.

  Ponéros could almost taste the victory to come.

  But that was not even the best of it. Ponéros had another surprise in store for his enemies. A weapon more devastating than any he had made before. The armor of the Prince Warriors would be useless against it.

  He called it Askalon.

  “We are ready,” Ponéros said, savoring the moment. “Just in time.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Ponéros slid off his throne and moved to the portal of his new lair, which lay at the bottom of the boiling sea in the deepest crevasse of Skot’os. A better hiding place than the skypod he had previously occupied, which had been too easily discovered by that turncoat dragon Tannyn. No one from Ahoratos, not even Tannyn, would ever find him here. It was only temporary, anyway, until Thayne invaded Ahoratos and secured the Mountain of Rhema. Such a defeat would be so debilitating to the Prince Warriors that they would certainly never rise again.

  Ponéros opened the portal, but the boiling sea did not flow in, held in check at his command. Huge, reptilian creatures with snakelike tails and spiked heads glided by, swift and silent, yellow eyes piercing the murky depths. Ponéros reached out to touch the edge of the acid-green water, causing a stirring among them. Another creature swam into view, one with the same snakelike tail as the rest but with a more streamlined body and green-gold gills that fanned out like wings on either side.

  The creature slid into the bunker and raised itself upright, balanced on its coiled tail. Two small flippers on its body suddenly grew into long, tapered arms, ending in sharp talons. It bowed its spiked head and peered at Ponéros with slitted yellow eyes.

  “Master,” whispered the creature in a soft slithery voice. “What do you require?”

  “Sybylla, you are looking lovely today.”

  The creature tilted her head slightly in silent acknowledgment.

  “Gather your children,” Ponéros said. “Take them to the boiling pool, under the mountain. Make sure no Prince Warrior passes through.”

  Sybylla closed her eyes and nodded her head. “Your will be done.”

  CHAPTER 2

  A Gathering of Princes

  Day 1

  The Cave was filled with Warriors.

  It seemed to have grown, stretched to accommodate this massive gathering—Prince Warriors from all over the world who had been called for a single purpose. None of them had ever seen such a large assembly of Warriors in Ahoratos before. There was an electric energy in the atmosphere. Something big must be happening.

  They stood shoulder to shoulder, back-to-back, Warriors of all ages and sizes and colors and languages. Their armor, too, was quite varied. Some armor was very plain and simple, others more elaborate and detailed with fancy engravings or intricately scrolled edges. Above their helmeted heads, tiny white puffs called Sparks darted about, filling the darkened Cave with spectral light. Long, jagged stalactites, glowing blue as if lit from the inside, dripped from the ceiling. The walls were rimmed with more glowing stalagmites and rock formations on which some Warriors sat in small groups, fingering their seed-shields and their Krÿsen nervously. Others shifted about, murmuring to each other, filling the air with anticipation.

  All were wondering the same thing: Where is Ruwach?

  Evan never knew there were so many other Prince Warriors besides him and his friends. He looked around, admiring some of the fancier armor. His own armor had grown with him in the past two years; his breastplate was bigger and thicker, now embellished with the Crest of Ahoratos, the funny symbol that looked like an N but really was an A. Every mission he went on seemed to make his armor a little stronger. He hoped someday he would have really cool armor like Mr. J. Ar’s.

  “Whoa,” he said, even though it was something he was trying not to say so much. His brother, Xavier, kept pointing out that he said that way too often. Xavier liked to point out all the things Evan did that he didn’t like. Not that Evan got to see his big brother much anymore since Xavier was just too busy these days, between high school and basketball and his new crowd of friends. Evan relished those times Xavier would challenge him to cannonball contests in their pond, or practice sword fighting with him in the backyard. He even looked forward to Xavier’s criticisms, because at least that meant he was paying attention.

  “They must come from all over the world,” Evan said. He jumped up to get a better look and came down on the boots of a tall Warrior standing near him.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed.

  “Ei hätää,” said the Warrior with a quick smile.

  Evan stopped and stared, his jaw dropping open. Because not only had the Warrior spoken in another language, but Evan had actually understood what he said: “No problem.”

  “Whoa.” Evan turned away and nudged Xavier. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Watch this!”

  He tapped the Warrior on the back. The Warrior turned around to look at him again.

  “Pardon me. Do you have the time?” Evan asked.

  “Ei ole aikaa Ahoratos,” said the Warrior.

  There’s no time in Ahoratos.

  “Okay, thanks,” said Evan. He looked at Xavier. “This. Is. Awesome.”

  Xavier nodded, his eyes widening in amazement.

  They pushed through the crowd, calling out for their friends. They heard the chatter of the other Warriors as they went, and every different language they heard they found they could understand perfectly. Evan had to stop himself from tapping people on the shoulder and asking them questions, just to hear their answers.

  Finally, Evan spotted Ivy’s red hair spilling out from her helmet. Brianna was with her, wearing her signature lip gloss, though it wasn’t as glittery as it used to be. She’d switched to less sparkly shades now that she was older.

  Next they found Finn and Manuel, who were together, because they’d been practicing sword fighting in Manuel’s backyard when they were called to Ahoratos.

  “Where’s Levi?” said Brianna, looking around.

  “Haven’t seen him,” said Finn. He was the oldest and felt it his duty to look out for the others. “Maybe he didn’t come.”

  “The Rec-ing Crew isn’t complete without Levi,” said Evan.

  “The what?” said Manuel.

  “It’s the name I came up with. For us. Because we all pretty much met at the rec center. Get it?” Evan looked at his friends, waiting for some reaction.

  “I get it,” said Ivy. “Pretty cool, Ev.”

  “Yeah, not bad,” said Finn, giving Evan a fist bump. Xavier rolled his eyes.

  “Stellar,” said Brianna, looking around. “Levi must be here somewhere.” She pushed through the crowd, calling Levi’s name until she found him, sitting all alone on a rock, staring at the wall. He had a strange look on his face, and it seemed as though he didn’t even know where he was.

  “Levi!” said Brianna, giving him a little hug. “There you are!”

  “Oh, hi,” Levi said, barely even looking at her.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you sure you’re sure? ’Cause you look like somebody just died.” Brianna laughed, but Levi didn’t. His face scrunched up as he turned away quickly. He looked as though he might start to cry. Brianna frowned, concerned. She started to ask him something when her attention was caught by a sound—a melody, beautiful and sweet—and the darkened Cave filled with spellbinding light. All the Warriors stopped talking and stood at attention, listening. It was as if the light and the music were connected, one giving shape to the other. The Sparks were instantly drawn to it, gathering and forming an image the Warriors all knew well.

  Ruwach.

  The Warriors watc
hed in awe as the Sparks created a hovering vision of the small, purple-robed creature who was their guide in the Kingdom of Ahoratos, the Unseen world. Unseen by most people, anyway. But Ruwach himself did not appear in person. Instead, his voice came through the music, the notes translating into words that each Warrior understood in his or her own language.

  “Welcome, Warriors,” said the Spark-created version of Ruwach. “I have gathered you here for an important mission. Perhaps the most important mission of your lives.” Trembling murmurs swept through the crowd. “The enemy is preparing to cross the Bridge of Tears and invade Ahoratos.”

  “But he can’t!” Evan yelled out. Everyone looked at him. Evan’s face reddened. “I mean, he’s not allowed to cross the bridge, right?”

  The question hung in the air for a long moment.

  “That is not quite true, Prince Evan,” the image of Ruwach finally responded. “Ahoratos must be defended, as must any kingdom. That is why you are all here. To defend Ahoratos. Beware, for the enemy is always looking for a weakness. This is the danger. For your weakness is often the thing you refuse to see.

  “Stand firm, Warriors. Stand together. And you will have victory.” He added: “Remember, you have everything you need.”

  “Man, I wish that guy Ponéros would just stay dead,” Evan mumbled. “How many times do we have to beat him?”

  “Only the Source can really do that,” said Finn. “And he will, one day. In the meantime, we need to make sure Ponéros stays out of our territory.”

  “Right,” said Xavier, impatient to start. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The image of Ruwach disappeared as the Sparks dispersed. They flew to one wall of the Cave and re-formed into a sparkling archway. The wall of the Cave dissolved, revealing the landscape of Ahoratos through the arch.

  The Warriors gasped at the sight, for Ahoratos looked quite different than it had before. The sky, usually golden, was slate gray. The trees looked as though they had lost all their leaves, and the grass was brown and dead. A harsh wind fell upon their faces as they began to march out, their boots crunching on the dried grass. But they kept moving forward, following the steady beam of their breastplates, which pointed them in the direction they were to go.