Cross Blades: The Purity Prophecy

By Alexandra Paulk's

Shielded and protected through his youth, 15-year-old Capo Premalvena is not prepared for a destiny with death-dealing evil. But when a love-scorned psychopath burns through the Dimensions in search of the Perfected Power of the Purity Philter, Capo discovers that the truth kept secret from his birth may thrust him to the center of a prophetic battle. To prepare, Capo is hurtled into the Sixth Dimension to another-world academy where the required swordplay tutorials serve as passage into moral lessons of friendship, betrayal, and second chances. In this realm, Capo learns thought can be as deadly as a deed; evil and purity can be paired into a surprising union; and choice is the point on which both the wicked and virtuous pivot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466964068

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© Copyright 2012 Alexandra Paulk.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-6404-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-6405-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-6406-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012919448

Trafford rev. 10/23/2012

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1 Havik’s Seminary Of Havoc For Boys

Chapter 2 Discovery Of Cutlass Conspirators

Chapter 3 The Four Teachers

Chapter 4 The Seminary Fencing Tournament

Chapter 5 The Swords

Chapter 6 The Nighttime Theft

Chapter 7 The Duels

Chapter 8 Prophecy Of Crossor’s Return

Chapter 9 The Farewell Of Heroes

About The Author

For Mrs. Valerie Tripp

Your kindness, encouragement, and keen interest in helping young girls achieve their dreams will bear fruit into many generations. You are truly the best.

When Purity wreaks Havoc, he shall shed the aspirer’s blood, and no more shall there be a Coward among the world.

—Leonarda

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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When I started to write Cross Blades, I was just one of many 13-year-olds at school with a tattered notebook filled with scribbles of plot and sketches of characters. Everyone seemed to be working on a novel. Apparently, becoming a novelist was a popular passage through the tribulations of early adolescence. A year later, the kids had moved on to other rites, but I was still fully engrossed in the complications and challenges of Capo, Moedig, Roxo, and the other good friends I had developed through my relationship with Cross Blades. By the time I entered senior high, the glamour of writing had definitely faded, and I had learned that the craft was hard work. But the rewards were characters and action that took on a life of its own. For me, it was a moment of discovering that I truly loved the worlds I could create as a writer.

Two and a half years of writing and revisions on the same book could get tiring for anyone, much less a junior high student just struggling to pass the next algebra test. So this is the moment when I pause from the thrilling escapades of Capo to thank the good people who would not let me quit Cross Blades, unlike my fellow classmates had done with their unfinished vampire books. Cross Blades is a finished reality because there were great adult mentors who pushed me over the finish line.

First, appreciation is due to my favorite teachers who required me to learn vocabulary, how to diagram sentences, and basically how to put words in an order that made sense. Mrs. Hancock, who inspired me in the first grade to love and crave the art of learning itself; Mrs. Gaines, who allowed me the freedom to take what had been learned and apply it creatively; and Mrs. Brown, who lifted my spirits every day at school, motivated me to push the boundaries of imagination, and yes, also taught me to write a good paragraph.

When it comes to encouragement, there is one remarkable woman who deserves the highest applause and gratitude: Mrs. Valerie Tripp, author of what I believe are the best American Girl books on the market. As a young girl, I soaked up the adventures Mrs. Tripp doled out in her many historical fiction books about young girls. Later, as an eleven-year-old child reporter, I had the privilege of interviewing Mrs. Tripp. The experience radically changed the course of my young life. From that moment on, I wanted to be like this wonderful, kind, and talented author who encouraged me to write, write, write. Thank you, Mrs. Valerie Tripp, for filling my young life with the friendships of your characters. They kept me company in lonely hours when kids in real life wouldn’t play with me; they inspired me to love reading, and ultimately, writing. Best of all, your characters helped shape my thoughts on morality—of doing the right thing when the wrong is often the easier course.

Closing the acknowledgments here would definitely make me a greener writer, since one more sentence might necessitate an extra ream of paper and the fall of another tree. But, what is a writer without a nagging editor? So, thanks Mom for doing that job exceeding well—not the nagging part, of course, but the editing. (Whew! Almost got myself in trouble on that one!) Thanks, Dad, for your support, too. And to all my friends who had to listen to my endless reports of Capo’s latest battle, many thanks for lending your tired ears. Finally, here’s my callout to God for all he has done and continues to do in my life.

PROLOGUE

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Lightning sliced the night as thunder rolled behind it. The squall was almost over but the storm was throwing out its worst rains yet. A sudden bang cracked near the main route; it wasn’t lightning, but rather Tapfer Lafaard, who had just entered the Fourth Dimension from the Seventh. He was thrown from the entrance with a yelp, and he rolled onto his front side on the wet, muddy grass with a thud.

He stood and coughed as the smoke cleared from his entrance. A large, dark figure hazed into focus beside him, and Tapfer threw himself wildly into a ditch. Headlights from a passing car flashed against metal, revealing nothing more sinister than a road sign. Tapfer let out a ragged breath and crawled to an opening in the damp hedges.

The people in this Dimension must have very short memories, he muttered angrily, if they constantly need reminders about where they are! He kicked at the water in his boots, feeling the cold of the night creeping into his skin. Tapfer impatiently snapped his fingers twice, expecting instant heat to warm his veins. But he had forgotten that his body adjusted to the environment around him, which meant he himself became like everyone else in the Fourth Dimension. He was temporarily relegated to mere human status . . . and he hated it.

Another car passed by Lafaard, its headlights illuminating the lettering on the sign. Tapfer saw the words St. George’s End and he smiled deviously. An evil sort of happiness spread through him. He was drawing nearer to the Premalvenas’ house.

Inside the modest stone farmhouse, one-and-a-half-year-old Hermano was playing on the living room floor, biting down on a plastic building block. The toddler’s tiny teeth couldn’t chew it, but Hermano squealed with delight as the block made a thumping noise when it landed on the braided rug. He pushed a toy truck into the block and laughed.

His father, Fagon Premalvena, smiled at Hermano and then continued watching the weather on the news. What a night! he commented. Let’s hope we don’t have to drive to the hospital in this downpour.

Caronyne Premalvena, Hermano’s mother, rubbed her bulging midriff softly. It’s not likely, she smiled. This little one isn’t due for a few more weeks.

Thunder cracked louder than it had all night and baby Hermano stiffened. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he looked out the window and saw lightning flash again. He wailed deafeningly. Caronyne quickly slid from the sofa to the floor next to the child. She wrapped her arms around him and carefully rested her head on top of his. Pulling a frayed afghan from the nearby sofa, Caronyne snuggled the tot in its warmth.

Shh, she whispered. It’s all right. I’m here. Mommy’s here. Caronyne kissed the top of Hermano’s head, soothing him to contentment.

The storms are going to continue all night. You’d better get used to that position of where you are now, Fagon joked. Caronyne smiled again at Fagon.

It doesn’t matter. I want to enjoy a few more moments of snuggling, Caronyne replied, drawing the young child closer, "before heading to the kitchen to stir up something very special for Hermano, Caronyne gently placed a hand on her tummy. And for this one."

Suddenly, a hard pounding knock sounded at the door. Fagon and Caronyne froze with eyes on the door. There was a long pause with only the distant thundering of the storm to break the fearful and questioning silence.

Fagon stood slowly. Who could that be? he murmured to himself. He unlocked the door and started to peek through the crack, but was harshly pushed back by Tapfer Lafaard bursting into the room.

Tapfer was soaking wet, although it looked as if he had dried himself off in an attempt to improve his appearance. It had not done much, because he was downright shabby. His coat was threadbare, his boots were caked with mud, and he had shadows of dirt smudged on his face. He stared at Caronyne as if she were the only thing in the room. Hermano, who had stopped crying, began to bawl.

Hello, Carry, Lafaard sneered. He paid little mind to the sniveling toddler in Caronyne’s arms. I searched all Nine Dimensions and just imagine my surprise at finding you here . . . with him, Lafaard looked at Fagon disdainfully. I thought you would’ve chosen a Dimension of higher quality. Lafaard sniffed in disgust, raking his eyes over the humble home. Nevertheless, no matter whichever one you could have picked, I would have eventually found you anyway. Didn’t you realize you could never hide from me?

What are you doing here, Tapfer? Caronyne set Hermano gently in the playpen, and then fiercely faced the intruder. She ignored the slurs slammed at Fagon, who, unlike Caronyne and Tapfer, was native to the Fourth Dimension and quite devoid of skills and talents known only in other Dimensions. In Lafaard’s opinion, Fagon was an underling, inferior and utterly useless. Lafaard smiled. He appeared to relax, and boldly strode across the room to chuck Caronyne under the chin.

Ah, my sweet Caronyne. Or should I call you the Guardian of the Century Lily? Lafaard laughed viciously.

The Powers of Botanique’s school could have given that title to anyone! Caronyne stammered.

"Oh, not just to anyone; you were the best student there," he said.

Why does the Century Lily concern you? she asked.

The stars of the Sixth Dimension have aligned so perfectly, there is only one explanation: the Century Lily has bloomed. My sources tell me you recently crossed the Dimensional line. Either you were looking for me, Lafaard grinned maliciously, or you were there to harvest the Lily. Two draughts can be made from its nectar tonight: the Wish Tonic and the Purity Philter. The lure of the Lily has pulled me across the Dimensions to you. Or, would you rather hear that I’m only here to win you back? he drawled, greedy malice seeping into his words.

Caronyne glanced from Lafaard to Fagon and then to Hermano. The toddler’s round face was red and pinched from the tears. As you can see, it’s a little late for a date. Caronyne scoffed.

Lafaard smirked with a little I-don’t-think-so humor. Nonsense. We can always pick up where we left off, he countered.

We left off with me telling you I could never love an evil man, Caronyne tossed her head defiantly.

Recovering from the initial shock of the unwelcome intruder, Fagon spoke up. Tapfer, get out right now, he demanded. He stepped protectively in front of Caronyne and the child.

Lafaard turned his rage on Fagon. Shut your face! Lafaard shouted as he reached for his pocket.

No, Caronyne whimpered as she held out a hand to stop Lafaard, even though he was several feet away. Fagon shut up immediately.

It’s O.K., Fagon. I can handle this, Caronyne braved. What do you want, Tapfer? Caronyne picked up Hermano and hugged the child closer to herself.

Lafaard closed his eyes for a moment. Finally . . . I’ve been waiting years. He opened his eyes again. I want you to concoct the Purity Philter.

Caronyne’s eyes went wide. For you? Never! she yelled.

You will. Lafaard’s mouth twitched into a devious smile. And when I drink it, I will finally have perfected power," he crowed.

Absolute good mixed with absolute evil, Caronyne whispered.

Yes. As you well know, the eruption of the blended powers would be the greatest force the world has ever known! Lafaard championed.

I—I won’t do it! Caronyne faltered. Her anger slowly disintegrated into fear. She knew Lafaard was dangerous and unpredictable in his rage.

I think I have the solution to this problem. Lafaard dug around for something in his pocket. He pulled out a black, shiny, bloodstone rock and held it up in his grimy hand. Unless you want to be cleaning up your husband and child’s blood, you will make the elixir!

No! Caronyne had pure horror in her voice now. Tears welled up in her eyes as Lafaard lightly flicked his head at the rock and pointed a blade that had sprung from his hand at Fagon. Caronyne paused to think for a moment. "Fine, Tapfer. Have it your way."

Caronyne sat at the dining room table. She stirred the mixture that was soon to be the Purity Philter. Fagon had put Hermano to bed and he was sitting on the end of the table. Lafaard sat across from Caronyne, watching her every move. She tried to go as slow as she could, hoping that Lafaard would get bored and perhaps distracted.

His hands twitched as he longed to reach for his bloodstone on the table out of impatience. Hurry up! Don’t keep me waiting any longer!

Caronyne jumped. She looked at the last ingredient on the table: the nectar of the Century Lily. That lily only had one bloom in the world once every hundred years. She had gathered the nectar just before the storm, hurtling across Dimensions to bring it safely back home. All the nectar had to be used in one potion. If Lafaard got his hands on it, there would be none left for her children.

Caronyne poured the nectar into a steaming bowl. Lafaard began to fidget out of excitement. Caronyne looked into the bowl. To her dismay, she had to impart the truth to Lafaard. It’s finished.

Lafaard sat up, a hungry expectant glint in his eyes. Caronyne ladled the major portion of the Philter into a cup. Lafaard shakily took the cup and stared into the contents. He smiled, and some of the anger and hatred seemed to leave him.

You were always good at making tonics, Carry, Lafaard said, more gently now.

A plan had formed in Caronyne’s mind. For it to work, she would have to be quick. That’s why you came to me? Caronyne stalled Lafaard from drinking the Philter.

Yes, and you were the only one who had the nectar. He tried to raise the glass to his lips.

There are other tonics for purity and many others equally skilled at making such things with the nectar, Caronyne quickly said as she inched within grabbing range of Lafaard’s cup.

None as good as you, Lafaard remarked as he raised the cup in a toasting sort of fashion. And no tonic is quite as powerful as the Purity Philter made from the Century Lily. And, of course, as you know, the Purity Philter is most potent for a man when it is made by the woman he loves.

Lafaard reached for Caronyne’s hand. She drew back and pushed the bowl with the remnants of Purity Philter past Lafaard and over the edge of the table. It shattered, and, as Caronyne predicted, Lafaard watched it fall. Caronyne snatched the cup of Purity Philter from Lafaard’s hands.

In case you haven’t noticed, she spat, "I don’t love you!" Caronyne swilled the Philter in a single gulp.

No! Lafaard shouted as he stood.

Caronyne! Fagon cried. What have you done?

Caronyne’s face went blank as she felt the Philter’s consequences: she could not move as her mind fogged in the process of the Philter’s purification process. With the Philter coursing through her blood, Caronyne was being temporarily cleared from all bad or impure thoughts. She staggered to the floor and by doing so, she nudged Lafaard’s bloodstone out of reach, which was splattered with the potion and rendered quite ineffective at the moment. Fagon leapt in front of Caronyne and held Lafaard by his collar.

Leave, Tapfer, Fagon whispered. He shoved Lafaard roughly away. "Now!"

Lafaard was now powerless without his bloodstone. He quickly grabbed his momentarily futile rock and darted for the door. He spun around with a horrible sort of madness on his face. You’ll regret this, Caronyne!

Caronyne looked up, still regaining strength after the effects of the Philter.

I’ll spare you tonight, but I’ll come back! When I do, I’ll kill your family! Lafaard roared. He swooped out the door and slammed it. Lafaard leaned against the door for a moment and ran his hand through his hair. He thought about his threat and muttered to himself, I’ll kill them! He stepped out again into the pouring rain and hurled himself into the departing Dimensional portal.

CHAPTER 1

Havik’s Seminary of Havoc for Boys

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Capo Premalvena adjusted his Six Voles Academy tie. New school year, new school, and he liked the new look of his stylish uniform. Looking in the mirror, he sighed contentedly and smoothed back his platinum hair, his reflection following the motion.

Once again, that morning as he had combed his hair, he couldn’t help but wonder why he had light-colored hair and no one else in his family did. In fact, his mother, father, and brother had brunette hair. As a young child, Capo had questioned his parents about it, but they simply said, You were kissed by an angel. That response was good enough for him all those years. He then dismissed the question and continued his daily routine.

It was Friday of the first week of school, and he knew the drill already. Pay attention in class, take notes, do the homework, and study only when absolutely necessary. Ninth grade for a fifteen-year old like him wasn’t hard, or easy for that matter. He was a bit above average in smarts. As far as school was concerned, there was only one problem so far this year: avoiding Hermano’s bully pack who seemed intent on picking a fight.

Sunlight flitted through Capo’s dormer bedroom window. An almost eerie glow beamed across the faces of famous fencers pictured on the posters plastered on Capo’s walls. His bed was mussed, for not five minutes ago did Capo finally pay attention to the constant beeping of his electric alarm clock.

Capo walked past his poster of Jeremy Grekler, his favorite fencer. He paused, eyed it, and smiled. He could now go through the day with Jeremy’s suave moves in his mind. Capo allowed a daydream to interrupt his good intentions to be on time. Just one parry . . . and a thrust . . .

Capo! Come on! You’re going to be late for school, so get a move on! Caronyne called from the