Table of Contents
Part One: Welcome to the Real World Chapter One - Jumping In
Chapter Two - A for Ahoratos
Chapter Three - Imagining Dragons
Chapter Four - Into the Cave
Chapter Five - Water in the Desert
Chapter Six - Puddle Jumping
Chapter Seven - The Book
Part Two: The Way of the Armor Chapter Eight - The Gate to Destruction
Chapter Nine - Walking on Circles
Chapter Ten - No Turning Back
Chapter Eleven - A Helping Hand
Chapter Twelve - Butterfly Kisses
Chapter Thirteen - The Water Rises
Chapter Fourteen - Castle in the Air
Chapter Fifteen - Into the Dome
Chapter Sixteen - The Evil Prince
Chapter Seventeen - Back to the Beginning
Chapter Eighteen - Waking Up
Chapter Nineteen - A Is for App
Part Three: Once Freed, Always Free Chapter Twenty - Into the Wind
Chapter Twenty-One - Building Bridges
Chapter Twenty-Two - Chaós
Chapter Twenty-Three - The Key to Freedom
Chapter Twenty-Four - Free Indeed
Chapter Twenty-Five - The Power of the Shoes
Epilogue
Secrets of The Prince Warriors Series
Sneak Peek of Book Two
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Copyright © 2016 by Priscilla Shirer
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
Illustrations by Jon Davis.
978-1-4336-9019-8
Published by B&H Publishing Group
Nashville, Tennessee
Dewey Decimal Classification: JF
Subject Heading: BIBLE. N.T. EPHESIANS 6:10-18 /
SPIRITUAL WARFARE—FICTION
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 • 20 19 18 17 16
For Jackson
Our firstborn son.
Our Prince Warrior.
CHAPTER ONE
Jumping In
There was something strange about that pond. Evan knew it from the first time he looked into its murky depths. What was down there? A monster? Like that one in Scotland, what was it called—Lock Ness? Something weird like that. He stood still, shivering a little, waiting for whatever it was to break through the surface and eat him. Alive. One gulp. He hoped it would be one gulp. He couldn’t stand the thought of being chewed.
He was small enough for one gulp anyway. Not like his big brother, Xavier. Big, tough Xavier. With the cool name. Xavier even had muscles and armpit hair. Evan looked down at his own skinny, hairless arms. Not a muscle to be seen. No matter how many pull-ups he did from the tree branch of the big old oak in the backyard, they just refused to grow.
“Going in today?”
Evan turned and saw his brother standing on top of the old tire that hung from one of the oak tree’s thick branches. The tire had come with the tree, which had come with the house.
“Gonna do it today?” Xavier’s face was all know-it-all-ish, as usual, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
Ever since they moved to this house from the city two months ago, Evan had stood on this little dock and stared at this pond, waiting for the day when he would get up the nerve to jump. Show Xavier he wasn’t afraid. He had vowed to do it before the end of the summer, before starting fourth grade at his new school. He was sure by then he would have jumped in a hundred times. Yet here he was, a week before school opened, and he still hadn’t done it even once.
And every single day, while Evan stood there shivering, Xavier would appear and rub it in.
“Want me to give you a push?” Xavier’s grin got even wider.
“Go away,” said Evan, teeth and fists clenched. He turned back to face the pond. Jump! Jump! But the encouraging voices in his head were drowned out by his brother’s louder jibes.
“Come on, it’s easy.” Xavier jumped off the tire and sauntered up onto the dock, next to Evan. He was four inches taller. Sometimes it felt to Evan like four feet. “Watch me.”
Xavier took a running leap and cannonballed like an Olympic diver, letting out a big whoop. Evan took a step back to avoid the gigantic splash.
“Go away!” he shouted.
“Come on, chicken,” Xavier said, swimming to the dock and pulling himself up. “Just do it.” He reached out to grab Evan, who pushed him away angrily.
“Leave me alone!”
“Chicken!” Xavier laughed again. “Chicken! Cluck cluck cluck!” He made some awful chicken noises and did a goofy chicken dance. Evan hated that dance. Xavier looked ridiculous doing it, but it always had the effect he wanted—to make Evan angrier than ever. Evan turned, red-faced, slamming into his big brother so hard the two of them went tumbling off the side of the dock, into the slimy mud at the edge of the water. One punch, Evan thought. Just let me land one punch, and I’ll be happy. The voice in his head was louder this time.
“Boys!” their mom called from the porch. She’d been watching them, of course. Evan thought it actually might be true what she always said: that she had eyes in the back of her head. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Xavier yelled back before Evan could find his voice. “I was trying to help him jump—”
“You’re lying!” Evan’s whole body shook with rage. He threw another punch, missing his brother by a foot.
“Evan! Come inside this house right now!” Mom’s voice was all shriek-y. Bad sign.
Evan pushed away from Xavier and stood up. He was covered in mud. His face felt hot, like there was a fire creeping up the back of his neck. Xavier got up too, wiping mud off his shoulders, laughter still in his eyes.
“Evan!” Mom called. “March!”
“Chicken,” Xavier whispered. Evan stifled the urge to cry and stomped into the house.
* * *
Xavier watched his little brother walk away. He felt sort of bad. He knew Evan was scared of jumping into the pond. He could have helped him. But every time he tried, it just came out wrong. He thought teasing him would make him mad enough to do it. But it didn’t work. Nothing he did ever worked. I guess this is just the way it is between us, he thought. We’ll be enemies forever.
He used to love being Evan’s big brother, taking care of him, making sure he didn’t get into trouble. Once, when Evan was still a baby, Xavier picked him up out of the crib, holding him upside down by his legs, and carried him into the bedroom where his mom and dad were sleeping. Look! he said so proudly. I got Van! His mom sort of freaked out, he remembered. His dad laughed.
Lately, though, all they seemed to do was fight. Evan got mad at the littlest things. Xavier figured his little brother was just jealous since Xavier was bigger and better at pretty much everything. He was four years older, after all. So what if he had a phone? And got to stay up an hour later? And was always picked first for the basketball games at the Rec? That’s just the way things were.
After a while Xavier went into the house, where his mother had just finished reading Evan the Riot Act. That’s what she called it. The Riot Act. What was the Riot Act anyway? He’d have to look that up. He liked looking up stuff. Whenever he asked his dad a question, his dad would say, “Look it up,” which Xavier used to think meant, “I have no idea.” But as he got older, he realized his dad knew there were some things he just had to figure out for hims
elf.
Evan was sent to his room until supper. Then early bedtime. No basketball at the Rec tonight. Xavier felt a little bit bad. He should have gone into the kitchen and told his mom what he did to provoke Evan. Instead, he went into his room and searched on his phone:
Riot Act.
A few entries popped up.
Established in 1714 by the British Government. An act for preventing tumults and riotous assemblies . . .
What’s a tumult? Xavier looked it up. Chaos. So, the Riot Act was for punishing people who caused chaos. Okay, that made sense. Sort of. Did it work? Xavier scanned the rest of the entry. From what he saw, apparently not. He figured you just couldn’t write a rule outlawing chaos and expect everyone to follow it.
“Xavier! Come set the table!” Mom called from the kitchen. Suppertime. Dad would be home soon.
Xavier stuffed the phone in his pocket and went down to the kitchen. He loved the phone—he’d only gotten it when they moved to this house from the city a couple of months ago. Xavier thought it might have been a bribe for having to leave his old neighborhood. But he was also told he had to share the phone with his little brother. Share a phone with a nine-year-old? Where did parents get these ideas? Some clueless parenting handbook?
“Set the table,” Mom said as soon as he set foot in the kitchen. She turned away from him to pull something from the oven.
“It’s Evan’s turn,” Xavier said.
“You boys are so good at remembering whose turn it is, aren’t you?” Her voice was sharper than usual. “Just do it, please. I don’t have time to argue.”
I don’t have time to argue. Another one of Mom’s favorite sayings. Who didn’t have time to argue? That just didn’t make sense. Xavier considered arguing to be one of the most important skills of life. He thought he might even be a lawyer when he grew up. Or a professional basketball player. He hadn’t quite decided.
He set the table. Dad came in with his briefcase, kissed Mom on the cheek, and put his hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “So, kiddo, how was your day?”
I got Evan in trouble, Xavier thought. But he said, “Pretty good.”
“Just pretty good?”
Xavier shrugged. “Played ball at the Rec. Mr. J. Ar says I’ve got potential.” That was the word Mr. J. Ar had used. Potential. Xavier liked it. “There’s another pickup game tonight. Can I go?”
“Don’t see why not. Where’s Evan?”
“In his room,” Mom said, “having a cool-off period.” (Mom’s word for time-out.) “Fighting again.”
“It takes two to fight, doesn’t it?” said Dad, looking suspiciously at Xavier.
“I didn’t do anything!” Xavier said, shrugging in the most innocent way he could. “He’s just mad because he’s still afraid to jump in the pond. So he takes it out on me.”
“He’ll do it when he’s ready,” Mom said. “Did you pour the water into the glasses on the table yet?”
Xavier poured the ice-cold water and helped Mom put forks and stuff on the table. He was on his best behavior now. I’m the good son.
“All set for school starting next week?” Dad asked, stealing a green bean from a bowl on the counter.
“Sure, I guess,” said Xavier. He had tried to avoid thinking about school—a new school in a new town, a whole new group of kids—although he didn’t want his dad to think he was scared or anything. He wasn’t scared, exactly. He was already pretty popular at the Rec, after all. He was good at sports, which was the main thing. But he always wondered, in the back of his mind, if he was really good enough.
Xavier glanced up to see his dad peering at him curiously, as if he could read his thoughts. He gave him a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’ll be cool.” His dad smiled back.
CHAPTER TWO
A for Ahoratos
Levi put the finishing touches on his drawing—he needed to get the details right. He should know it by heart by now. He’d seen it often enough in his dreams—the strange symbol shaped a little bit like a squiggly N or X, depending on how you looked at it. He woke up every morning with the image burned into his mind.
Ahoratos. The name whispered in his head over and over.
What was it? What did it mean? And why was it haunting him?
He sat on a bench against the wall of the Cedar Creek Recreational Center, facing the skateboard park, his board at his side. His friends were all out skating, practicing new tricks. Across the parking lot, other kids were gathering for a game of basketball. Levi glanced over and saw that new kid Xavier trotting out onto the court, hands in the air, laughing. Xavier had quickly become King of Basketball at the Rec. Or he seemed to think he was.
“Hey, Levi! Come show us something, man!” his friends called, beckoning him out onto the ramps.
“In a minute,” he called back. He yawned. He loved skateboarding, but he was too tired at the moment. The dreams were starting to get to him.
Ahoratos . . .
The word seemed to float like a feather in his mind, wafting this way and that, always near but just out of his reach.
“What’s up, Levi? Want to join in the pickup game?”
His dad’s voice snapped him back to reality. He looked up to see his father towering over him, arms folded across his chest: James Arthur, known to the other kids as Mr. J. Ar. He wore a whistle around his neck, which meant he was going to ref the basketball game.
“No thanks,” Levi said.
“What you got there?” His dad peered down at the sketchbook. Levi tilted it to his chest so his dad couldn’t see. Levi still wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know he liked to draw. It didn’t seem cool. Besides, his dad would want to know what that weird symbol was and why he was drawing it, and Levi didn’t really have an answer for him anyway.
“Uh—nothing.” He could feel his father’s eyes boring little holes in the top of his head.
“Maybe next time then, okay?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
Levi watched him trot across the parking lot to the basketball court. That’s what his dad did now: trot. He said college football had worn his knees down too much for real running. A crowd of kids followed him, as usual. All the kids loved Levi’s dad. He spent many evenings at the Rec, even after a long day’s work, volunteering his time so the kids would have a fun place to hang out. Good thing, too, because without him there, the place would be utter chaos. The only staff person was a part-time college student who spent most of her time in the office, studying for some summer course she was taking, drinking chai lattes from Starbucks, and texting her college friends. A squad of ninjas could rappel through the roof and she wouldn’t know a thing about it.
“Levi!”
Brianna Turner suddenly stood in front of him, a tube of lip gloss in her hand as usual. She’d apparently just applied it because her lips looked like she’d kissed a bowl of glitter. She wore black-and-white striped leggings and a pink hoodie with sequins around the pockets, even though it was over eighty degrees. She stuffed the lip gloss into the hoodie pocket and flopped down next to him on the bench. Her lip gloss smelled like peaches.
“Hey, Bean,” he said. He still called her that, even though he knew she didn’t really like it anymore. He couldn’t remember why he had come up with that nickname in the first place. Maybe because she was skinny like a string bean. Or maybe it was just easier to say than Brianna.
“Whatcha drawing?” Brianna leaned over to look. Her thick mass of long tight curls—barely held back by a wide sparkly headband—practically took out his eye.
“Nothin’.” Levi tried to hide his sketchpad from her, but she grabbed it away from him.
“Is it a picture of me?” she chirped. Brianna always thought everything was about her.
“Hey!” Levi snatched the sketchpad back, but not before Brianna had caught a faint glimpse of the unfinished image he’d
drawn.
“Wait . . . I’ve seen this before!” She squinted—that’s what she did when she was deep in thought. Levi slowly turned the page back in her direction so she could look at it again. “This part is wrong.” She grabbed his pencil and made an adjustment. “See? This is how it goes. Those little knobs are much wavier—”
“You’ve seen it?” Levi said, astonished. “When?”
She took a breath before speaking, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about it. “Last night. And the night before. And—most nights before that too.”
Levi blinked, his mouth dropping open. “You saw it—like in a dream?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
“Seriously?” Brianna whispered. She looked relieved that she wasn’t the only one. “That’s so weird! How come you never told me before?”
“How come you never told me?”
She shrugged. “’Cause I thought you’d think I was crazy.”
“Same here.”
Brianna—Bean—had been Levi’s best friend for as long as he could remember. Even though at first she’d annoyed the heck out of him. She lived next door in a tiny house with her grandparents and three older sisters. When they were little, she never had anyone her age to play with, so she was always coming over to Levi’s house, wanting to play with him. At first he let her, just because he felt sorry for her. But she would insist on doing things her way. Levi’s mom said it was because she was the youngest of her sisters and didn’t have anyone to boss at home.
It drove Levi crazy. Like when Brianna used to make his Avengers action figures have tea parties with her Barbie dolls. Thankfully she’d outgrown that now. But when they played Uno or Monopoly, she would make up her own set of rules and then change them whenever she felt like it. The worst was during kickball, when she would tell all the other team members what they were doing wrong, as if she were the coach. Good thing she didn’t play much kickball anymore, because it might mess up her hair, which had become unbelievably important to her all of a sudden. Levi didn’t get it.
The Prince Warriors Page 1
