The Prince of Warwood and the Fall of the King (Book 2)

by J. Noel Clinton

  The Prince of Warwood

  and

  The Fall of the King

  J. Noel Clinton

  Copyright© 2012 by J. Noel Clinton

  All rights reserved by the author. 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 prior written permission of the author.

  ISBN: 0-9773115-3-8

  The Prince of Warwood

  and

  The Fall of the King

  J. Noel Clinton

  Chapter 1

  Responsibilities

  Xavier’s eye throbbed and burned, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The rugby scrimmage had turned out to be quite violent; he should have insisted on referees. He tucked the rugby ball in the crook of his arm and lunged forward. Ken Calhoun intercepted him and tackled him to the icy turf, stabbing an elbow into his ribs. A struggle for possession of the ball and to continue the game ensued. Xavier’s teammate, Beck Wilcox, snatched up the ball and tossed it to Erica Jefferson. She raced along the sideline and crossed the goal line, planting the ball to score a try to win the game.

  “In your face, Calhoun! You couldn’t beat us even with all your fouls!” Court Hardcastle, one of Xavier’s best friends, chastised as he stormed over to the other boy.

  “Are you calling me a cheat?” Ken challenged, bumping into Court.

  “You’re bloody right, I am! You and Mac deliberately blocked us when your team had the ball, and you know it!” he growled.

  “Court, just let it go. We won,” a small dark-haired girl murmured, pulling at him.

  “Letting a girl fight your battles, mama’s boy?” Ken jeered.

  Court’s face turned bright red, and he charged toward the other boy. Xavier was at his side in an instant, grabbing him. The other boys turned and walked off the rugby pitch, laughing. As if to emphasize Courtney’s bad mood, the wind intensified and snow began swirling to the ground.

  “You know what, Robbie?” he spat, turning toward the petite girl. “I’d appreciate it if you’d butt out of my business in the future.”

  “What are you talking about? I only said that we’d won. It wasn’t worth fighting a bunch of sore losers!” she implored, her dark eyes large.

  “Yeah, well, you made me look like a complete git! Just keep your mouth shut next time!” he spat out before storming out of the stadium.

  “Jeez, what’s with him?” she sulked.

  “Well, you kinda put him in a bad spot!” Xavier told her. “You made it look like he couldn’t handle those guys on his own.”

  “Fine, take his side! You always do!” she complained, stomping away.

  “What? Robbie!” Xavier called with a nervous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not taking sides; I’m just saying…”

  She whipped around and glared at him, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes you are! You are taking his side! Otherwise, you would have said that you agreed with me! Otherwise, you would have said… Oh, just forget it!”

  Xavier stared after her as she stormed away. He didn’t think he was taking sides. What was wrong with her? Robbie had always been levelheaded, with the ability to see all sides of an argument. This was completely out of character for her. He looked at Erica, silently pleading for help, but Erica simply shrugged, looking just as puzzled as he and ran to catch up with Robbie’s fleeing figure.

  “Women!” Garrett hissed, shaking his head in disgust. “Who can ever figure them out?” At this, the other boys chortled, and Xavier couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Your Highness, it was a good game,” Garrett announced, clapping him on the back.

  “Yeah! They wouldn’t have stood a chance against us even if the Chosen himself had played for them!” Beck boasted loudly, which was followed by a cheer of support.

  When the boys exited the huge gothic coliseum, Xavier separated from the group and sauntered across the field toward the soaring fifteen-foot wall surrounding the palace.

  “See ya, Your Highness!” Garrett called, waving.

  “How many times do I have to tell you guys? Call me Xavier!” he bellowed back.

  The boys stopped abruptly and stared at one another as if hearing this for the first time. Then grinning broadly, the group chorused, “Yes, SIRE!” and bowed for added emphasis.

  “You’re all hopeless!” Xavier yelled with a snicker.

  Xavier Wells was indeed a prince. Up until six months ago, he had believed that he was a normal, typical boy, aside from his unusually white, curly hair. But, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Not only was he the future leader of a kingdom, he was an empowered human. He possessed abilities a normal person could only dream of. His entire kingdom was full of supernatural humans who had abilities ranging from telepathy to teleportation to telekinesis.

  Xavier chuckled at his friends’ teasing as he continued across the barren field, huddling deeper into his coat as a vicious wind howled around him. He couldn’t believe how quickly the weather turned in Warwood. When they had started their rugby match, it was sunny and nearly fifty degrees, chilly but bearable. Now the temperature was a good twenty degrees colder, and snow swirled down in angry spirals. It didn’t take long for the ground to be dusted in white. He had been told once that the weather in the Newfoundland territories was as moody as an old hag. It had a way of changing from beautiful sunshine to blizzard-like conditions in a matter of minutes or even seconds, and it could be harsh and unforgiving. He looked up annoyingly at the darkening clouds as he fought against the icy wind lashing at his face and body. Harsh he could understand, but this weather was ridiculous!

  He squeezed behind the large, blue spruce growing against the palace wall. The tree hid a secret passage in the wall that provided a short cut to the palace, if you knew where to look. Carefully, Xavier ran his hand along the wall, feeling for the smoother, polished surface of the fabricated stone. He found it easily, revealed the hidden lever, and opened the secret door. He stepped through and found himself between the rows of pines in the back garden of the palace. He quickly closed the passage and maneuvered out of the trees. When he walked around to the front of the palace, Court was leaning against the building waiting for him.

  “You okay?” Xavier asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just that Robbie can be so nosey sometimes. It’s infuriating!”

  “I know. I’ve been there, but she means well. And you have to admit, she did have a point,” he commented.

  “Yeah, but don’t tell her that! It’ll only encourage her,” he replied, falling into step with Xavier as they walked to the palace’s entrance.

  “You still on for the camping trip tomorrow?” Court asked, changing the topic.

  “You bet! It should be a blast!” he grinned as they entered the palace, shaking the snow from their clothing and hair. They continued down the long hall and into a large antechamber where a grand stairway led up to the royal chambers.

  “Well, see ya later,” Court announced, moving toward a door to the left that led to the Hardcastle residence.

  “Hey, Court?” Xavier began, and Court turned and faced him. “Who’s the ‘Chosen’?”

  “The Chosen?” he asked with a snort.

  “Yeah, the guys were talking about it, and when I was held at the Institute this summer, I heard the guards talking about it too.”

  “You’re off your head! You really don’t know?”

  “Well, no. I didn’t grow up here, remember?” Xavier pointed out defensively.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Xavier. I forget that sometimes,” he repli
ed, shifting awkwardly. “The Chosen is folklore, a message of hope really. It’s described in the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

  “The what?”

  “You’ve never heard of the Dead Sea Scrolls?” Court gaped at Xavier. “Jeez, X! They’re only the biggest biblical find since… well, since the Ten Commandments!” Xavier’s dumbfounded look didn’t alter, so Court gave a great sigh as he went on to explain. “Folklore tells us that, supposedly, there will come a time in history when the sons of the dark lord will try to overtake the sons of the light.”

  “Who’s the dark lord?” he asked.

  “No one knows. Though legend says he and his army will succeed in the first wave and beat the army of the light, but then the Chosen will lead his army into the greatest battle mankind has ever seen. This battle will not be just for the freedom of one kingdom or the empowered world; it will be a battle for everything and everyone—common and empowered! It’s like the pre-apocalypse test. If the Chosen doesn’t accept his destiny, if he fails, mankind will experience despair and darkness for hundreds of years. The events can only be described as doomsday, the end of the world!” Court looked at Xavier’s shocked, disbelieving face.

  “What happens if the Chosen succeeds?” he asked.

  “Well, then we’ll all live happily ever after on Earth for another millennium, or something like that.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know if it’s all true, but that’s what the secret scroll foretells. But, for all we know, this may not happen for millions of years.”

  “Wow,” Xavier muttered.

  “Yeah! Kinda blows your mind, huh? Could you imagine being the poor bloke who suddenly finds out that he’s responsible for the future of the entire world?” Court said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  “Well, I better go. Mum will be ticked if I don’t help set the table. See ya at the camp out. After all, according to Beck, there’s nothing like camping outdoors when there’s a major threat of frostbite and hypothermia.” He laughed as he entered his residence.

  Xavier climbed the staircase, entered the royal residence, and slammed the door shut behind him, still preoccupied with the Chosen Prophecy. Imagine! Some poor unsuspecting dude would be responsible for preventing Armageddon. And he thought he had it bad as future ruler of a kingdom. Slowly, he began climbing the stairs to his room. Suddenly, he froze.

  “Oh, no! Oh, darn it!” he muttered as he sprinted up the last of the stairs and into his bedroom. He looked frantically around at the disheveled room as dread seized him. He hadn’t cleaned his room. Father was going to kill him! His room was so cluttered and messy that the maids hadn’t been able to vacuum or dust for nearly three weeks. So, Jeremiah had given him the ultimatum to have the room in order by the time he got home from work or there would be no camping trip. Xavier had joked, what good was it to have maids if they didn’t clean up after him, but his father hadn’t been amused.

  He looked at the clock—a quarter to five! Oh, great! Father was due home any minute, and his room was in such disarray that he would have to use a bulldozer to get it cleaned up in time. Frantically, he began throwing toys onto shelves and into a large wooden chest. He had managed to clear a path to his bed when he heard the door downstairs shut and his father announce, “I’m home!”

  Great! Goodbye camping trip. Xavier sighed dejectedly. If only the mess would pick itself up! Wait! It could if he’d use telekinesis! With a grin, Xavier closed his eyes and eagerly reached into his consciousness where his abilities laid quiescent. Almost instantly, his body grew warm as the power stirred within him. It began very gently with a book here, a toy there, floating across the room toward the bookcase or chest. Then, like a growing typhoon, the mess that once lay on his floor flew into the air, swirling and smashing violently around the room. A remote control car zipped past his head, grazing his left temple.

  “Stop! Stop!” he screeched, raising his hands and trying to muster up the power that had started the storm of toys, books, and clothes. But the whirlwind didn’t stop; it intensified. After another near miss, this time from a baseball, Xavier abandoned his attempts and dove under his bed for cover.

  Moments later, his bedroom door swung open and his father stood in the doorway. A book, Treasure Island, propelled past his head.

  “What the…?” the king spat, ducking and dropping to the floor. He scanned the room and found Xavier. “Son? What’s going on?” he shouted over the clattering and crashing.

  “I don’t know! It just… happened! I can’t stop it!” he exclaimed.

  The king studied the boy a moment before jumping to his feet and thrusting his hands toward the storm of belongings. Instantaneously, a resounding golden force erupted from his hands, vibrating through Xavier’s body. Toys and books dropped to the floor and the force evaporated. Slowly, Xavier wiggled out from under his bed and stood. With his heart lodged in his throat, he surveyed the damage. If his room had been messy before, it was a disaster area now. The force had shredded books, demolished toys, and, he noted with apprehension, shattered his computer monitor.

  His shoulders slumped as he gave his father a sidelong glance.

  For several long seconds, Jeremiah regarded him in silence. Then, he pulled a handkerchief from his suit jacket and gently dabbed at the oozing scratch on the boy’s head.

  Finally, he spoke quietly, “Let me guess, you didn’t clean your room today and attempted to do it at the last minute using telekinesis. Right?”

  Xavier nodded dejectedly. “I didn’t mean to do this. It just… happened.”

  “Mm hm. But, didn’t I ask you last night to have this room picked up by the time I got home from work? You had all day to get it done. Why didn’t it get done, son?” he asked.

  “I…I guess I just forgot about it. And, I had a rugby scrimmage with the guys this afternoon,” he muttered.

  Jeremiah sighed, giving him a stern glance. “I see. So, you chose games and friends over your responsibilities. Well then, as a result, there will be no camping trip.”

  “Oh, come on, Dad! I can have this room picked up before tomorrow afternoon,” he begged.

  “I’m sure you could, but when did I ask you to have it picked up?” the king rebuked.

  “Today, sir,” he mumbled, fully aware that his father wouldn’t recant on his decision.

  “That’s right, and if you cannot take care of your responsibilities, then your special privileges will suffer,” he replied matter-of-factly as he crossed the room, picked up a broken toy, examined it, and then placed it on the shelf. “And speaking of responsibilities, I received your first term report from the academy today.” He turned and pinned Xavier to the spot with steely eyes.

  Xavier’s heart sank. If he had any hope that his father would change his mind about the camping trip, it evaporated the moment he uttered the words, “first term report.”

  “A ‘D’ in Latin?” Jeremiah questioned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having difficulty? This could have been prevented.”

  “I guess I didn’t realize I was having that much trouble, sir,” he lied. The truth was that he had been so preoccupied with setting up a rugby team and hanging out with his friends that he had given little time to practicing or studying his Latin.

  His father knew this as well and interjected, “Or maybe rugby and time with friends have taken your mind off the most important part of school: to learn!”

  He looked up at his father’s displeased face. “It’s not that…I…”

  Jeremiah raised his hand, silencing the boy. “Don’t,” he warned quietly. He took three long strides toward him and continued sternly. “You’ve allowed friends and rugby to occupy too much of your time. Consequently, you’re not doing as you’re told and your grades have suffered. I dare to say the marks from your other classes could have been higher as well. So, you won’t be going on the camping trip with your friends this weekend, and there will be no rugby for three weeks!”

  “Three weeks! But…” he blurte
d.

  “Yes, three weeks,” his father interrupted loudly. “And if your Latin grade doesn’t improve, there will be no rugby at all in the spring. Do you understand me?”

  Xavier bit his lip and grimaced. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

  “Now, you’re grounded to this room for the remainder of the evening. I want this room cleaned and straightened. In the future, do not use your abilities without adult supervision. I’m sure they’ve told you that at the academy. I’ll speak to Spencer this week about adding a telekinesis course to your schedule for the new term.”

  “Yes, sir,” he agreed without meeting his father’s hard stare.

  “All right then, get started. I’ll be up after dinner,” Jeremiah concluded, leaving the room.

  Xavier released a long slow breath and began picking up his broken things, muttering grievances under his breath.

  Much later, he had most of his toys put away when Mrs. Sommers came swaying into the room carrying a silver serving tray. “Master Wells, here’s your dinner. Why don’t you take a breather and eat? It’s pot roast,” she sang out as she set the tray on his desk.

  He dropped an armful of toys into the chest and crossed the room toward her. “Thanks, Mrs. Sommers,” he muttered, throwing himself into the chair.

  “I’m sorry you’re not permitted to go on your camping trip. I’m sure there’ll be others. Besides, who would want to go camping this time of year? It gets bitterly cold in the fall.”

  “I would,” he grumbled. “We were going to have a huge bonfire. It wouldn’t have been so bad.”

  She smiled down him. “You know, you remind me so much of your father when he was your age.”

  “Yeah?” he mumbled. “I bet he didn’t screw up as much as I do,” he pouted, toying with his food.

  “Well, I don’t know about that!” she chuckled. “Your father got into plenty of mischief in his day.”

  “Really? Like what?”