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

by J. Noel Clinton

  “Leave me alone,” she hissed with such ferociousness that Xavier stepped back.

  He studied her a moment longer before stepping toward her again. “Robbie? Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay? Am I okay? You’ve got to be kidding me!” she growled, turning to face him. “How would you expect me to be, Xavier Wells? My father is dead! If it hadn’t been for you, he’d be here. He’d be with us. My mom wouldn’t be crying herself to sleep at night! Brittany wouldn’t be scared half to death to leave Mom for fear that the same will happen to her! How am I supposed to be okay with that?” she finished fiercely, attracting the attention of several nearby camps.

  Xavier felt the suspicious, curious stares of the unwanted spectators pushing in on him. “Robbie, I’m sorry. If I could have done something to save him, I would…”

  “But you could have done something! You could have saved him, Your Highness! You could have saved him and you didn’t! You didn’t!” she yelled, jumping to her feet.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, his own temper rising. “How could I have saved him? What did you expect me to do? Was I supposed to hand myself over in exchange for him? Well, let me tell you, Robbie, it wouldn’t have worked! Or, have you forgotten? I was held captive and tortured for two months by that maniac! I know how his sick mind works! He would have still killed him, and I’d be dead too! Is that what you wish? That I was dead too?” he asked grabbing her arm when she tried to walk away.

  “Let go of me, Xavier,” she spat out loudly.

  “Answer my question first! Is that what you wish?” he demanded.

  “I said, Let. Go. Of. Me!” she screamed, jabbing her bony knee into his groin.

  He crumpled to the ground like a rag. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt dangerously close to throwing up.

  “Robbie!” Ephraim snapped, racing to the prince. “Xavier, are you okay?”

  He coughed and gagged unable to answer. No, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t sure he could even feel his legs.

  Ephraim turned to Robbie and snarled, “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You know what’s the matter, Uncle Ephraim!” she sobbed. “Why is my dad dead when we all know Xavier had the power to stop it?”

  “Robbie, that’s not true…”

  “What’s she talking about?” Xavier croaked weakly, trying to take a full breath.

  “Nothing, Xavier. She’s hurting and lashing out in any means she can,” Ephraim answered.

  “Shut up, Ephraim!” she screamed. “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, but no one wants to tell Prince Wells the truth. Well, fine!”

  “Robbie…” Ephraim warned with quiet sternness.

  But she ignored the warning and continued, “Let’s start with the obvious, sire. Have you ever wondered why you have this morbid knack of getting the people you supposedly care about killed: my dad, Maggie, your own mom? Did you ever wonder why at the age of twelve, you have five abilities when everyone else just has one or two? It’s not because you’re royalty like everyone wants you to believe, either. Even your father only had two abilities when he was your age. You’re different. You could have saved my dad. Heck, you probably could have saved everyone! You’re…”

  “Roberta? What’s going on here?” King Wells questioned, looking down at the girl and then at his out-of-sorts son, but he didn’t wait for Robbie to answer. “I think you better join your mother and sister in Ephraim’s tent. You could use some rest. Don’t you think?” he asked pointedly.

  Robbie’s momentum evaporated as she peered up at the king. “Yes, sire,” she muttered.

  “Good, go on then,” he insisted unwaveringly. “I will speak to you about this later.”

  Robbie paled and started toward the tent, but she wasn’t done with Xavier. She whirled around and glared at him. “Oh, and for the record, Prince Wells, I never liked you, and I was never jealous of Maggie Applegate. And…and…you kiss like a goldfish!” she spat, turning and stomping into the tent as several on-lookers snickered.

  Ephraim helped Xavier struggle to his feet.

  “What in the world is she talking about? What does she mean, she never liked me? I never said she was jealous of Maggie. Did Maggie tell her I kissed like a goldfish? Dad? Dad, what’s going on?”

  “Come on, son. We need to have a long, overdue talk.” Jeremiah sighed and waved the boy to him.

  Chapter 25

  Treason

  Xavier closed his eyes in horror following his father’s lengthy description of his behavior while he was infected with the super flu.

  “Oh, God. Oh, man! I did that? Oh, jeez!”

  “Son, you were sick! You weren’t right in the head. Don’t be so tough on yourself,” Jeremiah told him.

  “But Robbie thinks I kiss like a fish!” he muttered miserably.

  Jeremiah had to laugh. Of all the things, the boy was worried that the girl thought he didn’t kiss well.

  “It’s not funny, Dad!” he growled.

  “I’m sorry,” he replied with a grin. “Son, she doesn’t think that. She was trying to hurt you, like she’s hurting. Just give her some time. She’ll be all right. She needs to come to terms with this in her own way.”

  Xavier groaned. “I hope you’re right. I’m not sure how long I can stand Robbie hating me.”

  When father and son finally exited the tent, Ephraim and Loren were sitting next to the fire talking in low tones. They turned the moment Jeremiah emerged from the tent.

  “Sire, we really need to finish scanning the crowd,” Loren urged.

  “Yes, we will, but first I should make an address. We have a lot of frightened and hurting people out there in need of a leader. Ephraim, would you ask your boys to help gather wood for a commemorative bonfire and set it up in the northern clearing?” the king requested, pointing.

  “Yes, sire. I’ll round them up,” he replied, leaving them.

  As the Hardcastle boys trickled into the campsite and Ephraim organized them, Jeremiah prepared for his address. Henrick Davies stood by ready to perform the amplification so that everyone at Mirror Lake could hear their king.

  “How does the amplification work?” Xavier asked Henrick.

  “Well, young sire, I can manipulate my electro force into a kind of PA system. You see, speakers create sound through electromagnetism which generates vibrations that the human ear can interpret into understandable sound.” Henrick laughed at the boy’s blank look. “It’s hard to explain and not any easier to do, but I’m one of few people who have mastered the ability. So, long as I am touching your father, anything he says will sound as though it’s being broadcasted over a speaker,” he explained.

  “You’re kidding?” Xavier gasped.

  Henrick chuckled. “Just wait and see, sire.”

  “Henrick, it’s time,” Jeremiah announced, calling the man to him.

  Once Henrick’s electro force was spinning above the lake like an enormous glowing speaker, Jeremiah began his speech.

  “Good afternoon, my loyal friends and brethren.” He was unable to continue for the crowd immediately erupted into cheers and applause. Xavier grinned up at his father as he shrugged meekly down at him. Once the cheers subsided, the king continued, “Thank you. Though, I’m not so sure I deserved all that. I stand before you humbled and ashamed. I did not foresee this catastrophe, and I should have. And because of that, many loyal good men and women have died. I would gladly endure another caning if I could exchange a single life for it.”

  The crowd burst into boos and whistles. This brought a brief smile to Jeremiah’s lips. “I appreciate your support and loyalty, my friends, but the fact remains that I swore an oath to protect Warwood and its people, and I’ve failed you. For that, I beg for your forgiveness, but I promise you, it will never happen again so long as I still draw breath.” Applause interrupted his address again, and Jeremiah waited patiently for it to end.

  “Tonight shall be a time of mourning for our lost loved ones. Take some tim
e today to remember a fallen loyalist. A commemorative fire will be lit and, at midnight, your memorial letters can be sent to your loved ones in heaven. Until then, you can spend your time securing your campsites and writing your memorial letters. We shall camp here for the next week or so to ensure we have all surviving loyalists with us. I ask for everyone’s help in sending all new arrivals to me. I cannot stress the importance of this enough. Every person must be inspected in order to ensure our safety. Then we will begin our pilgrimage to King’s Mountain, and from there, we will prepare for our stand. We may have fallen, but we are not beaten!”

  The crowd’s cheers were deafening and again, Jeremiah had to wait for the noise to die down. “We will stand again, my friends, and when we do, we will be mightier than before. We will crush LeMasters and take back what is rightfully ours!” There was another intermission of cheers and screams. “And, we will have penance,” Jeremiah told them, his voice quavering, “for our lost loved ones! William LeMasters will stand in judgment!”

  The crowd burst into a turbulent roar that surrounded them and echoed off the mountains, multiplying the noise ten-fold. Xavier was overwhelmed by its intensity and simply stared. Jeremiah turned with an enormous grin and patted him on the shoulder. “Some days, being king is a burden, and then there are times when it knocks your socks off.” Xavier could only nod, and his father chuckled. “Come on, son. The Royal Guardsmen are on their way here, and I need to prepare for the debriefing. You should be a part of it,” he added, leading Xavier into their tent.

  Jeremiah knelt next to the black duffle Milton had given him at the palace and opened it. Inside were a dozen scrolls tied with small ribbons of assorted colors, each secured with the kingdom’s emblem. Jeremiah quickly searched through the bag and pulled out a scroll with a black ribbon. Without a word, he zipped up the bag, stood, and exited the tent with Xavier lagging behind him. Outside the tent, nearly three dozen men, many in tattered Royal Guard uniforms, stood silently waiting for their king. The moment Jeremiah emerged from the tent, each man sank to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Please, don’t,” Jeremiah muttered. “Stand. Today we are equals, my friends. We have important matters to discuss and plan.”

  “Before we do, sire,” Timmins declared, stepping forward hesitantly, “I want to offer you my deepest apologies.”

  Timmins looked as though he had been trampled on by a herd of rhinoceroses. No doubt it had been Ephraim’s doing, in retaliation for striking Xavier. From the looks of it, the general had managed to get in several punishing blows before Jeremiah could stop him.

  “I fear that I am as guilty as you, sire, more so, in allowing my emotions to rule my head. After the prince attacked Mackenzie at school, I didn’t care that the illness had caused his moment of indiscretion; I only cared to seek retribution for my boy. I apologize for being so single-minded and failing to see the big picture. It is more my fault than anyone’s that all of this has happened. After all, it’s my duty as defense captain to assess and be aware of any possible dangers to the kingdom’s commonwealth. I failed you, sire, and for that I am truly sorry and offer you my resignation. I’m sure someone else could do a better job.” Timmins knelt at Jeremiah’s feet, holding out his Premier Royal Guard medallion.

  Jeremiah looked down at the man. Xavier thought for a moment his father might thrash Timmins, and he wouldn’t have blamed him if he had, but he didn’t. Slowly, the anger washed away from the king’s face and he answered quietly, “I refuse to accept your resignation, Clarke. Right now, I need my best men on this task. You and I will work this out later. Understood?”

  Timmins stood and glanced timidly at the king. “Yes, sire,” he muttered.

  “Now,” Jeremiah began, untying the ribbon from the scroll and breaking the wax seal. He quickly unrolled the paper, which turned out to be several copies of some kind of a map. “We’ll need to depart from here in numerous groups to avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves. Premier Guardsmen, you will be responsible for organizing and safely guiding your group to King’s Mountain. The regular Royal Guard will be at your disposal to assist you in whatever you need,” he told them, distributing copies of the map. “This map is not to be shared with anyone. You and only you are to view it. Understood?”

  “Yes, sire,” the men answered in unison.

  With a nod of satisfaction, the king continued, “There should be fifty to sixty people in each group. We will begin departures from Mirror Lake in one week. Make note of the highlighted areas on the maps. These marked areas are ideal locations for your group to rest and camp as you make your journey. Are there any questions?”

  “Sire?” a guard interrupted, “judging by the map, we could easily complete this journey in less than two days. Why are there three camping sites?”

  Jeremiah looked at the man patiently. “Yes, Peterson, you could cover the ground in a day and a half, but you will be leading women, children, and the elderly through the mountains, and they cannot. Stick with the more leisurely pace.” The young man nodded and Jeremiah turned back to the group.

  “Henrick, though you have a map, you have a different task altogether. I need you to gather up a group of fifteen to twenty strong men. Your group will be in charge of gathering supplies from a multipurpose warehouse in Bern. There’s a common man who lives there and has trucks available for you to teleport the goods. Here are his name, address, and the supply list,” Jeremiah stated, handing Henrick a very long list. “When you and your men have gathered the supplies, follow this route here,” Jeremiah explained, pointing to an area on Henrick’s copy of the map. “You won’t be able to drive the entire way to the mountain, so I’ll have teleporters meet you here,” he continued, jabbing at the map, “to teleport you and the goods the rest of the way to King’s Mountain. Are you with me so far?”

  “Yes, sire,” Henrick replied.

  “Good. Now, I’ll need a list of the men you intend to take with you by tomorrow evening, and then you may set out the next day. I expect it may take you a week or so to accomplish this task so take what supplies you’ll need for that amount of time.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Okay, do any of you have any questions regarding your jobs?”

  There were none so he dismissed the men to begin arranging their groups. However, Timmins lingered.

  “Sire, Governor Yaman organized the uprising within the kingdom on LeMasters’ behalf. When LeMasters stormed the front gates, I heard Yaman give the order for the mutinous citizens to attack the Royal Guard.”

  Jeremiah nodded solemnly. “I figured as much. It occurred to me that he orchestrated the caning to coincide with LeMasters’ arrival. I imagine the virus was also a part of that plan. They will be dealt with in time, Timmins.”

  “Yes, sir. Sire? I would like to discuss my punishment with you now if we could. I don’t feel worthy of the trust you’ve bestowed on me. Please, King Wells, for my own peace of mind, I’d like to take care of this now,” Timmins pleaded anxiously.

  Jeremiah sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, Timmins. What do you feel would be a fitting penance for your behavior?” he challenged.

  Timmins had obviously thought this through and had an answer ready. “A caning, sir.”

  Jeremiah looked at the other man with something close to shock. “A caning? That’s a bit…extreme, don’t you think?”

  “I deserve it, sir!” he exclaimed defensively.

  “I don’t think you deserve to be beaten until you no longer have the strength to stand…”

  “But, I do! Sire Wells, I…I helped…the mutiny!” he concluded miserably.

  “What?” Jeremiah roared.

  “You son of a…” Loren spat disgustedly.

  Timmins fell to his knees and began to sob. “I don’t know what came over me, sir. After my boy had a couple of run-ins with the prince, I thought you had lost sight of the kingdom’s well-being for the boy’s. I thought maybe your priorities had been misplaced and that i
t would be best if you were removed. I had no idea that Governor Yaman was organizing the mutiny for William LeMasters! I thought he intended to create a democratic government. I had no idea about William, sire. I swear!”

  “And that’s supposed to make everything okay? Good God! You’re guilty of high treason! King Wells could order your death for this!” Loren yelled.

  “I know,” Timmins cried uncontrollably. “And Dublin is dead because of it. Many are dead because of my petty jealousies! You see, Your Highness, I do deserve it! I do!”

  Swelling with anger, Jeremiah peered down at the man and grumbled, “All right, Timmins. You will be caned, twenty lashes. You will also be demoted from the rank of Captain in the Premier Royal Guard to a private in the regular guard.”

  “Yes, sire,” he agreed eagerly.

  “I am not finished!” Jeremiah barked, stepping toward Timmins threateningly. “And for the next two years, you will report to me once a week for a mind evaluation to ensure your loyalty remains with the crown. Understood?”

  Timmins bowed his head submissively and muttered, “Yes, sire.”

  “Your caning will be tonight. Report to me before the commemoration,” Jeremiah stated stonily.

  Timmins nodded miserably, but he looked relieved when he left. Jeremiah watched him disappear into the dense crowd of camps and people.

  “Father? Why would anyone ask to be caned?” Xavier questioned.

  Jeremiah looked down at him thoughtfully before answering, “Sometimes when a person is in extreme distress, they seek physical pain to alleviate their mental pain.”

  “Was it that way for you? With your caning, I mean?” he asked, watching his father closely.

  Jeremiah shot him a quick look before answering, “Yes.”

  “Why is that?” But Xavier never got his answer.