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

by J. Noel Clinton

  “I don’t know how you do it! That boy can be so incorrigible and then, when he gets what he has coming to him, he makes you feel like crap for doing it!” Loren gulped down the remains of the amber liquid.

  “What happened?” Jeremiah asked.

  Loren groaned, rubbing his face in his hands. “He’s got a heck of a lot of animosity toward Miss Stokes, I’ll tell you that. He wouldn’t settle down at all. I ended up busting his butt.” Loren paused in thought and looked up at Jeremiah warily. “Jer, I’m beginning to think that maybe his feelings go beyond jealousy and fear that Catherine will try to replace his mother. I get the feeling he knows more than he’s told us, or that we’ve been willing to hear. Do you think there’s any justification to it?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “No, I don’t. Catherine is a sweet woman. I’m not sure where all his anger comes from, but I can tell you this; it’s going to end.”

  Loren wished he could share his friend’s certainty, but he didn’t. He hadn’t thought much about the king’s relationship, but after Xavier’s outburst, he began questioning everything about Catherine. Thinking back to earlier that evening, she had seemed pleased when the boy riled up Jeremiah. Had she smirked? He hadn’t thought so at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  That night, Xavier had a nightmare. He found himself wandering through a dense fog as he made his way toward Maggie’s house. The bitter, cold air captured his body and sank deeply into his bones. He shivered violently; something was wrong. He could feel it. Then, the fog shifted like a curtain, and Maggie’s house appeared before him. Like an omen, the house was dark and seemed unoccupied. Xavier raced to the front door, his uneasiness growing.

  “Maggie?” he called. No one answered, and his uneasiness quickly pivoted into terror. Shakily, Xavier turned the doorknob and entered the deserted house. It wasn’t just empty of people; it was empty of everything! The house had been completely stripped of furniture, wall hangings, and even the carpet was missing. All that remained were white patchy walls and the plywood sub-flooring. A soft moan drew Xavier’s attention to the splintery steps leading to the upper floor.

  “Maggie?” he croaked. “Maggie, are you up there?”

  “Xavier,” a weak voice moaned. “Xavier.”

  Xavier sprinted up the steps two at a time and raced down the hall. “Maggie? Maggie, where are you?”

  “Xavier,” the voice called again.

  Xavier finally found her in a room that was so cold his breath formed little white clouds. Maggie lay shivering on a bare mattress in the corner of the room wearing only a thin nightgown.

  “Maggie!” he yelped, running to her. He yanked off his coat and covered her cold body. “Oh, God! You’re freezing!”

  “Xavier,” she groaned. “I hurt! I hurt so…” Maggie’s eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp in his arms.

  “Maggie?” he whispered. “Maggie?” He stroked her cheek and discovered she wasn’t breathing. “No,” he cried. “Maggie, don’t! Please, don’t! Wake up! Please, God! Wake up!”

  Xavier awoke from the dream, crying. He wanted desperately to call to his father but stopped himself. After their confrontation over Catherine, he didn’t want his father’s help or comfort with anything. Instead, he stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, but he was unable to wash away the darkness the dream left behind. It wasn’t until he heard Ephraim’s urgent voice calling outside his father’s room that the dream finally slipped completely from his mind.

  “Sire, you need to get up! Jer! There’s an emergency.”

  Xavier tiptoed to his door and listened as two sets of footsteps hurried by his door and down the steps. He cracked his door and listened.

  “King Wells,” Father O’Brien’s voice began shakily, “I have some sad, sad news. We seem to have an epidemic affecting the kingdom’s children. Ten children thus far have fallen ill; eight are dead already.”

  “What!” Jeremiah yelped. “An epidemic? What kind of epidemic?”

  “Some kind of super-flu, I don’t know for sure. I don’t think even the healers are sure,” he answered.

  “Lord Almighty!” the king muttered.

  “What do we do, sire?” O’Brien questioned.

  “First, Father, you need to return to the church. There are bereaved families in need of counseling. Has Mike Spencer been told?” Jeremiah asked.

  “No, sire,” Ephraim answered.

  “Well, go wake him up. Until we are sure what we’re dealing with here, school must be cancelled. Plus, I want to speak to the healers and see what the autopsies revealed, if anything. But, gentlemen, the most important thing we can do is to spread reassurance. We don’t need an outbreak of panic on our hands,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sire,” several voices echoed at once.

  The front door closed, leaving Ephraim and Jeremiah alone. Xavier army crawled out onto the landing and peered down at the men below.

  “Okay, Ephraim. What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  “I’ve already spoken to the healers, sire. They’re still running tests, but they did find one common thread among the children infected. All ten children are of mixed lineage; each had a common parent,” he told him.

  “Are you sure?” King Wells whispered.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Ephraim responded gravely.

  Jeremiah hissed a string of curses and began pacing like a madman as he tried to think it all through. “Ephraim, aside from the kids, has there been anything unusual, a breach in security, a questionable citizen acting suspicious, anything?” Jeremiah questioned, stopping to look at him.

  “No, nothing so far,” he answered. “We haven’t had a chance to question all the questionables to see if they have alibis. Lord! Jer, you don’t think William has something to do with this, do you? You don’t think he would attack children?”

  “Yes, I not only think he would, I know he would. Do you realize what this means? He knows the Chosen is a child of mixed lineage. If he realizes the Chosen has been identified…” he sighed heavily. “We’re in an uphill battle to get that boy to his full strength. If William figures out who he is, he will do everything in his power to kill him before he grows strong enough to be a formidable adversary.”

  “What now, Jer?” the general asked.

  “I want to know the names of the children infected. Maybe there’s a bigger picture to all this than what’s come to light so far,” he responded.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll bring the list straight over the moment they release it to me,” Ephraim answered before leaving the palace.

  Xavier crawled back into his room, softly closed the door, and returned to bed.

  When Xavier woke again, he found he wasn’t alone. Jeremiah was sitting on the bed next to him with his head against the headboard, his eyes closed. The moment Xavier stirred, Jeremiah opened his eyes.

  “Morning, son. How are you feeling?” he greeted with a weak smile.

  Xavier sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Okay, I guess,” he greeted before muttering dreadfully, “Are you here to punish me for yesterday?”

  “I should, you know,” his father answered warily. “But no, I’m not here to spank you. I need to talk to you.”

  He not only saw the change in his father’s face but felt it in his gut as well. Something was wrong. “What? What is it?” he asked fearfully.

  “Son,” Jeremiah began, reluctantly facing him. “There’s an illness spreading rapidly around the kingdom. Ten children have been affected. Nine of those children are dead, and the healers don’t expect the tenth to live through the day.”

  “God! That’s horrible,” he moaned, but of course, he already knew this. Well, except that now nine were dead instead of eight.

  “Son, there’s more,” he added, rubbing his face. When he looked back at Xavier again, heavy tears lingered in his eyes, and he tried to blink them back.

  Xavier’s stomach twisted. “Dad? What? What is it?”

  “One of th
e children who got sick and died last night was…” Tears fell onto his cheeks. “Son, it was Maggie,” he gushed, his voice cracking.

  “What?” Xavier cried in a small disbelieving voice. It felt like he’d been hit by a jet. His head was flying, spinning, and somersaulting, and he felt nauseous. “No, it’s not true. It can’t be! I just saw her yesterday! She was fine! She was fine!” he uttered, growing panicked.

  “I’m sorry, son. I’m so very…”

  Xavier didn’t wait for his father to finish. The nausea overtook him, and he raced to the bathroom and threw up. Jeremiah was behind him in an instant rubbing his back. When Xavier was through, he fell to the bathroom floor, his eyes wide with shock. Slowly, his face twisted in despair as he looked up at his father.

  “Maggie’s dead?” he whispered. Jeremiah nodded, and Xavier howled.

  “Oh, God! Noooooo!” he choked out as a sob racked through his body. “Maggie. Oh, God, Dad. Why Maggie?”

  The illnesses had baffled the healers until investigators discovered a strange red capsule among some of the children’s belongings. After extensive testing, it was determined the capsules had served as vessels for the rare strain of flu. The children had been deliberately infected. Of course, this news wasn’t widely known or shared for fear of a vigilante backlash on questionables. Questionables were citizens who had supported William LeMasters during his first uprising. However, many had claimed they hadn’t known of LeMasters’ plans to assassinate the king and queen and begged to be allowed to remain in the kingdom. Jeremiah had granted their request with two conditions: there would be weekly interrogations for the next five years, and they would face public retribution. Most loyalists, however, found it difficult to forgive and forget, and many questionables were subjected to discrimination and ridicule.

  The next day, a public forum was held to discuss the illness and to console parents. Parents were warned that if their child appeared feverish or acted peculiar in any way, they were to report it immediately. Once the parents’ concerns and questions were addressed, it was agreed that the school should reopen the next day.

  Three days after Maggie’s death, Xavier still refused to get out of bed and had stopped eating. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for the next agonizing blow to come. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even close his eyes for each time he did, the image of Maggie’s strained, pain-filled face would torment him. He tried not to think of her, but it was useless. Memories continued to spring out at him as though they were playing a cruel game of peek-a-boo. In the end, he simply gave up and began dwelling on every memory of her: her pretty face, her hypnotic eyes, and her infectious grin. The bittersweet memory of their last dance haunted him. These images would bring a brief smile to his face just before it all came crumbling down, and he would weep again. The grief came at him in waves, and each time it did, it felt as if an invisible force tore inside his chest, ripped his heart out, and stomped on it.

  “Xavier?” a strange, slurred voice whispered from the door. Xavier looked up into the gnarled face of the prophet, Abraham Vincent. “Now, do you believe? I tried to warn you, boy. You didn’t want to take me seriously.”

  “Get out!” Xavier groaned, turning back to his mindless stare.

  “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t until you know all of it! This is just the beginning!”

  Xavier stood and glared resentfully up at the strange man. Anger overpowered his grief, and he simply unleashed.

  “I. Don’t. Care! Get out! I don’t want to know any more!” His voice broke as he fought back tears. “You hear me? I’m done! I don’t want to know! It’s…it’s…too much.” Finally, he crumpled to his knees and began sobbing. “I’m tired! I’m so, so tired!”

  Abraham moved stealthily to him and knelt beside him. “I know you don’t believe this, but I do understand what you’re going through,” he whispered softly, rubbing Xavier’s back. “I know, but, Xavier, it doesn’t change anything! You’ve got to know what I have foreseen.”

  Xavier’s sobbing stopped, and he looked up at the horribly scarred face and into a pair of curiously gentle eyes.

  “Xavier, the fact is your father will try to sacrifice his own life to save yours. You must stop him from doing it!”

  “What?” he whispered.

  “Listen to me, boy. There will be a mutiny within the kingdom. There’s nothing you or your father can do to stop that, but he will try to run a diversion so that you can escape safely. He will fail miserably, and it will cost him his life! You must stop him!”

  Xavier took in the news slowly, and even though he didn’t want to believe the prophet, he did. After Maggie’s death, he would believe anything this man told him.

  “Xavier, there’s more. Even though you must stop your father from sacrificing himself for you, your actions in doing so will sentence another to die in his place. This cannot be prevented, I’m afraid,” Abraham added quietly.

  “Who? Who will die in his place?” he asked.

  “I won’t tell you that. You must save the king; his role in your future is monumental. Without him, your future will be dark and painful. Knowing the identity of the man who will die in his place is irrelevant.”

  “Irrelevant? Irrelevant? I will cause a man’s death simply by saving my father and you say it’s irrelevant!” he growled.

  “Yes, it is irrelevant in the scheme of things, young sire,” Abraham told him sadly. “I know it’s hard for you to see right now, but you’ll understand one day.”

  “No,” he spat. “I will never understand how a man’s death can be irrelevant.” He glared spitefully at the old man. “If you’ve told me all you needed to tell me, please leave. Just go and leave me alone.” Xavier buried his head in his arms, trying to control the roller coaster of emotions sweeping through him.

  “Sire? There’s one more thing,” the prophet whispered from the door. “When the mutiny erupts, you must get the King’s Key from the vault! It’s imperative that it remains with you, always!”

  When Xavier looked up, the prophet was gone, and he was alone.

  He lifted himself from the floor and went to his bed. He picked up his mother’s picture, feeling another wave of despair wrenching at his heart like a vice.

  “Mom,” he choked out between sobs, “please, look after Maggie for me, and tell her I’m sorry that I messed things up between us the last time I saw her. Tell her I know it was wrong to invade her privacy like I did, and I’m so, so sorry!”

  He fell back into the bed, sobbing with his mother’s smiling face in his arms. He never saw the small capsule roll out from behind his mother’s picture. Nor did he notice it as it rolled off his bedside table and hit the floor. He didn’t see it burst open and begin emitting a nearly transparent yellow gas. He didn’t notice any of this as he cried into his pillow.

  Chapter 16

  Infected

  Jeremiah crept into Xavier’s room shortly before midnight and found the boy asleep and peaceful. He sighed with relief as he sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed a curl from the boy’s brow. Clutched tightly in the boy’s arms, Julia’s image smiled up at him. Carefully, he slipped the picture frame from his grasp and replaced it on the bedside stand. Then he kissed his son’s temple and quietly left the room.

  The next morning, Xavier awoke feeling oddly energized and antsy. He didn’t even feel sad any more. Without putting much thought to his sudden change of emotional state, he set about getting ready for school. He showered, brushed his teeth, dressed, and was in the middle of pulling on his socks and shoes when Mrs. Sommers entered the room. She froze at the sight of him.

  “Master Wells? What are you doing up?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?” he snapped. “I’m going to school.”

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  He looked up at her irritably. “Does it matter? Stop hovering over me like my mother. You’re not my mother!”

  Mrs. Sommers took in his flushed face and bl
oodshot eyes. The boy didn’t look well, but she imagined that Maggie Applegate’s death was to blame for it. “I know that, young sire, but I am your governess. I’m just looking out for you,” she rebuked, stepping toward him and attempting to check his forehead with her hand.

  Xavier jumped to his feet like a threatened, wild animal and pushed her away from him. “Stop it!” he yelled.

  Mrs. Sommers stumbled and fell into his bookshelf and onto the floor. As Mrs. Sommers struggled to her feet, Jeremiah entered the room.

  “Dear God, Emma. What happened?” he gasped, running over and helping her to her feet.

  “I just lost my balance, sire. That’s all,” she lied, watching Xavier closely. Shock had flickered briefly across the boy’s face, but now all that remained was a cool, cocky expression. “But, Xavier says that he plans to go to school today,” she explained, nodding at the boy.

  Jeremiah turned and looked at his with astonishment. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really,” Xavier answered haughtily.

  “Son, you don’t have to go today. If it’s too soon…”

  “It’s not too soon, Father. Now, if you two don’t mind, I need to get going or I’ll be late.” Then, without another word or a backwards glance, Xavier walked from the room, leaving a very baffled father and governess in his wake.

  Xavier was met with numerous stares and whispers as he walked up the stairway to the front entrance of Wells Academy. Headmaster Spencer, drawn by the murmurs, looked down at him with surprise. “Xavier, I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “Does that mean I can skip telepathy class then?” he joked.

  Spencer narrowed his eyes on the pompous boy in front of him and tried to determine whether or not to take his comment seriously. “Ah, no. If you’re at school, then you must come to telepathy.”

  Xavier nodded, walked past him, and entered the school.

  In math class, Sir Underwood droned on and on about a lesson they had learned last week, and Xavier quickly grew bored. Why was Underwood teaching order of operations again?