The Prince of Warwood and The Rise of the Chosen

by J. Noel Clinton

  Chapter 16: Found

  Michael Spencer surveyed the students sitting quietly in his classroom and noted immediately that Xavier was not among them.

  “Has anyone seen Prince Xavier?”

  Robbie Minnows and Courtney Hardcastle exchanged uneasy looks. He stepped toward the two children.

  “If you know where the prince is, you must tell me.”

  Robbie took a hesitant breath and answered in a quiet rush, “I told him he needed to see you first, but I guess he was too sick to hear me. He…he really did look horrible!”

  “Easy, Robbie. Where precisely is Xavier?”

  “Home. He said he was going home. He’s not in trouble, is he, sir? He really was sick!”

  “No, he’s not in trouble. I’m just concerned about him. Don’t worry, Robbie. I’m sure he went home like he said,” Sir Spencer replied, patting her shoulder.

  Maintaining a business-as-usual attitude, Michael distributed a pre-test to the groaning students.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. We all hate pre-tests, but I assure you they’re an important tool used to determine where to begin your lessons. Do the best you can. It isn’t for a grade.”

  “Then why do we have to do it?” Beck challenged, earning a hard glare from the headmaster.

  “I just explained that to you, Mr. Wilson, but if you’re still unclear, I can explain it further after school in detention.”

  Beck stammered, “No, no, sir. It’s fine. I understand.”

  Michael smirked at the boy as he slouched in his seat and began working. His gaze left Beck and swept the room. All the students were working quietly and diligently. Taking advantage of the orderly class, he silently sent a message to Sir Blaire to report to his classroom.

  Within minutes, Blaire quietly entered the classroom. While most of the students didn’t even look up, Robbie studied the men with a frown as they exchanged hushed words. Finally, Sir Spencer patted the other man’s shoulder and exited the room. Although he was trying to hide it, it was clear Spencer was just as worried about Xavier as she was. It wasn’t so much that Xavier had looked horrible, it was his peculiar behavior. He had been disoriented and flustered. He may have had every intention of going home, but in his state, Robbie worried that he may have gotten lost or done something stupid. That scared her more than anything, but at least the headmaster was doing something about it. He would find Xavier.

  When Xavier came to, his head still throbbed but at least the noise had lessened. He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, but he had to get inside the palace before his telepathy powers got worse again. The branches scraped his arms and legs as he crawled out of the shrubbery before slowly standing. The sun hung low in the sky. It had to be near dinnertime or later! He had been unconscious for hours!

  “Prince Wells!” a gruff voice called.

  Xavier turned to see a Royal Guard hurriedly approaching him with a grim expression. “Oh crud!” he thought. “It must be really late.”

  “Prince Wells, you had better come with me. You have a good number of people out looking for you,” the guard stated, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the front of the palace.

  Loren stood at the palace’s entrance and the moment he saw Xavier, relief flooded his face. He spoke into the walkie-talkie in his hand as he moved toward him. When Xavier was within a few feet of the general, Loren whistled softly.

  “Christ Almighty, Xavier Wells, you better have a great explanation for your disappearing act, or I might be inclined to help your father by holding you down while he beats your butt into a pulp!”

  He opened his mouth to respond when suddenly the pressure in his head exploded as hundreds of voices flooded into his mind. Biting his lip to keep from screaming, he dropped to his knees and cradled his head with a whimper.

  “Xavier?” Loren gasped, dropping to a knee next to the boy. “What is it?”

  “M…my head. God! It’s killing me! I...I…going to throw up!” he uttered before vomiting.

  He knew Loren was talking to him, but for the life of him he couldn’t hear him past all the noise in his head. Even after the nausea waned, he continued to cower on the ground, crying. Then he felt himself being lifted and carried into the palace. The moment the outer door to the building closed behind them, the voices dropped off like a sudden calm in a storm and the only voice he heard was Loren’s.

  “I wonder where he’s been all this time. The boy is definitely sick. Lord, I hope it’s not the Super Flu raising its ugly head again...” Loren thought as a sudden panic rose inside him, belying his cool, calm exterior. Then, his thoughts jumped to his daughters. Erica, it seemed, had a very special place in Loren’s heart. He adored her. It had nearly killed him to punish her for the incident at Wellington Bookstore.

  He carried Xavier into the royal residence, past a relieved Mrs. Sommers, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. He tore back the blankets and laid him on the bed.

  “How are you doing, Tiger?” he asked softly, stroking back damp hair from Xavier’s eyes.

  “I feel better now that I’ve thrown up,” he lied with a meek smile.

  The general glanced at the governess, who had followed them into the room. “Mrs. Sommers, could you get me a cool wet cloth.”

  He pressed his hand to Xavier’s forehead. “You seem to be running a fever. I’ll call for a healer. Rest up little sire. Your dad will be here...”

  “Xavier!” Jeremiah sighed as he rushed into the room.

  “Right about now,” Loren’s thought finished the sentence with a silent chuckle as he scrambled out of the way as the king raced to his son’s side.

  “Are you all right?” he questioned, placing a hand on Xavier’s forehead and looking at Loren. “Call a healer.”

  “Yes, sire. I was just about to do that,” Loren responded and left the room.

  Mrs. Sommers shooed his father’s hand away from Xavier’s head and replaced it with a damp cloth. The king busied himself by pulling Xavier’s shoes and socks off, but Xavier could hear his panicking, fearful thoughts. Like Loren, his father feared that the Super Flu had returned.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried out of my mind.”

  “When I left school, I tried to come home, but my headache got so bad...I threw up and passed out or something,” he answered. He was starting to feel much better. The palace’s lead-lined walls protected him against the chaotic thoughts of Warwood’s people. The only thoughts that assaulted him now were his father’s, the guards’ and the servants’.

  “When the healer gets here, I’ll have him give you something for the pain,” his father told him as he slowly helped Xavier to sit upright and peeled off his Academy blazer. When he moved to help him with his pants, Xavier stopped him.

  “Dad! God, I’m sick not paralyzed! I can take my own pants off!” he spat indignantly, his gaze flickering toward Mrs. Sommers, who had picked up his shoes and blazer and moved toward his closet.

  Jeremiah backed off, but his hurt feelings and memories bombarded Xavier’s mind. When Uncle Mike had called his father and reported him missing, he had been terrified, and his thoughts had obsessed on the possibility that the Dark Army was somehow involved in his disappearance. Xavier felt his eyes tearing as he experienced his father’s panic and fear first-hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just my head...I just want to go to sleep. Maybe I’ll feel better after I sleep for a bit.”

  “It’s all right, son. I’m just relieved you’re safe.”

  “I know,” Xavier whispered.

  “I’ll step out so you can change, sweetie,” Mrs. Sommers announced, setting clean pajamas next to him and kissing his cheek. She paused and rubbed Jeremiah’s arm before leaving the room.

  Xavier pulled the pajamas toward him and changed into them while the king hovered over him like a mother hen, but he didn’t have the heart to complain. Jeremiah picked up his discarded garments and pulled up the blankets around him.

  Xavier closed
his eyes and tried desperately to block out his father’s worried thoughts. He sighed as another voice joined the crowd in his head. The healer had arrived. Maybe he could give him something to make him sleep. Lord knew, with all the voices blaring into his brain, there was no way sleep would happen otherwise.

  When the healer entered the room, he froze at the sight of the king and cleared his throat.

  Jeremiah turned. “Ah, you must be Healer Dorne.”

  The healer nodded stiffly.

  Jeremiah stood and approached the smaller man. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he noted, relief filling his body, thoughts, and voice as he shook Dorne’s hand. “Prince Xavier is ill. He complains of a headache, nausea, and he lost consciousness on his way home from school today.”

  “Hm, well, let’s have a look at him,” Dorne replied with a reassuring smile, but Xavier could feel the man’s anxiety. His thoughts punched into his mind, overcrowding and overpowering his father’s.

  “What if I can’t help him? What if he dies? The king would have my head if I can’t help his son! God! Why did I have to be on call this evening!”

  Healer Dorne approached Xavier, sat on the edge of the bed, and set his medical bag on the bedside table. Then he shakily reached into the bag, pulled out a thermometer, and placed it in Xavier’s mouth. As he waited for the thermometer’s reading, he pulled out a stethoscope and placed the cold metal piece against the boy’s chest and listened.

  “He has a good, strong, steady heartbeat,” he commented, removing the stethoscope. He returned it to the medical bag and extracted a small pen light. “Look straight ahead, young sire,” he instructed with quiet authority.

  He passed the light across Xavier’s eyes and nodded with approval. Then he finally removed the thermometer and studied it.

  “Hm. He has an elevated temperature, sire. It appears to be nothing more than the common cold. It’s been going around, especially at the grammar school. See to it that he rests and drinks plenty of fluids.” Dorne dropped the light and thermometer back into the bag and stood to leave.

  “Wait!” Xavier blurted. “Could you give me something to help me fall asleep? I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I’ll be able to fall sleep.”

  The healer looked at King Wells, who nodded his consent, and within moments, Xavier was fast asleep.

  Chapter 17: Bullied

  Xavier didn’t wake again until early the next morning. The pressure in his head was mostly gone and the voices were quiet.

  “Thank God!” He sighed loudly, rubbing his face.

  After a noisy yawn, he stood and padded into the bathroom to shower. Mrs. Sommers had not come in at her normal time to wake him, which could only mean that no one expected him to go to school today. Tempted to play hooky, Xavier stood in the middle of his room with a towel around his waist, contemplating it. No, if he wanted to see Robbie and take her to King’s Cafe for a shake, he would have to go to school, that was if his dad would let him. He was supposed to have been grounded yesterday. Hadn’t he served and abided by his grounding? Hadn’t he come home and not gone off with his friends to play rugby? Did it really matter that he spent the evening in bed sick? Xavier tossed his towel aside and reached for his clothes when his bedroom door opened. His father froze at the sight of him as he scrambled for his towel, praying Mrs. Sommers wasn’t behind him.

  “God, Dad! I’m naked! Close the door! Is it too much to ask that you knock?” he blared.

  Jeremiah stepped into the room and quickly closed the door. “I’m sorry, son. Well, it looks like you’re feeling better.”

  He gave his father an annoyed glare before responding, “Yeah, I feel like a million bucks!”

  Ignoring the boy’s attitude, the king smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, but you really should take another day to regain your strength.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t. The teachers usually assign a lot of work on the second day. I don’t want to fall behind,” he replied, pulling on his underclothes.

  “All right. If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, I am. Thanks though,” he told him. “Ah…Dad? I know I was supposed to be grounded yesterday, and I was sick, but it still counts, doesn’t it?”

  His father gave him a devilish smile. “Yes, it counts. Why?”

  He grinned. “I kinda have plans.”

  “Plans, huh? Would these plans be about five-foot-three with brown hair and brown eyes?” he asked, snickering.

  “Maybe,” Xavier answered with a grin.

  After a quick breakfast where Mrs. Sommers tutted at him while he shoveled mouthfuls of oatmeal and fruit into his mouth, resembling a hording hamster, Xavier finally exited the royal residence and descended the steps. His father had wanted to drive him to school and it took a lot of arguing and protesting to convince the king otherwise. He was more than a little annoyed over his father’s overprotective smothering, yet at the same time, he liked it too. After feeling how worried and scared his father had been to discover him missing and then ill, he understood why his father hovered. If being a father meant feeling all of that, Xavier wasn’t sure he ever wanted kids.

  “Morning, little sire,” Loren greeted from his post next to the residence staircase. “My, you look worlds better than you did yesterday.” He felt Xavier’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re all right to go to school?”

  He shrugged off the general’s hand. “Geez, Loren! Of course, I am. Dad’s letting me go.”

  Loren looked unsure.

  “Is Erica allowed to walk to school?” he asked.

  The large man sighed and then grinned. “I guess so. I’ll go and round her up,” he answered, heading toward his own residence.

  “Thanks,” Xavier mumbled, turning toward the Hardcastle residence. Long before he rang the doorbell, he heard the uproar of activity from behind the closed door.

  “Mom! Where’re my shoes?” Court’s voice bellowed from behind the door.

  “I am not your maid, Courtney Aaron Hardcastle! Try looking where you took them off,” came her annoyed answer.

  “I am! I can’t find them! What am I supposed to do? Go to school barefooted?” he blared.

  “Boy! Watch your tone with your mother, or I’ll take my hand to your backside!” Ephraim’s voice thundered as he opened the door to the residence. Then he turned and saw Xavier in the doorway, and his brows rose with surprise. “Xavier! I didn’t expect to see you here. Feeling better?”

  “Yes, sir. Is Court about ready to go?”

  “I imagine, once he finds his bloody shoes,” Ephraim replied.

  “I’ll get him going, Mr. Hardcastle,” Erica chirped, skipping up from behind Xavier.

  Ephraim stepped aside to let Erica through as she bellowed, “Court Hardcastle! Get your butt in gear or you’ll make all of us late!”

  Five minutes later, after completely ransacking the Hardcastle residence in search of Court’s shoes, which Andrew had hidden in Caleb’s toy chest, the three children exited the palace and made their way to the secret passage.

  “So? What happened to you yesterday, mate?” Court asked as they ducked into the row of pines along the wall.

  “Well...” Xavier glanced at Erica, who ducked through the passage ahead of him. Then he whispered meaningfully, “It happened again.”

  Court’s eyes bulged and he froze on the spot. “It...it happened again?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. My telepathy powers went overboard this time. The thoughts of everyone in the kingdom came blasting into my brain. I thought my head would pop!”

  “Is...is it better now? I mean, can you hear my thoughts?”

  “Well, I get little snippets of thoughts from people now and again, but not enough to make anything out. So, yeah, it’s a heck of a lot better,” he answered.

  “Oh, good.” Court breathed, sounding relieved, but the expression on his face was anything but relief.

  “God, you guys! What’s taking so long in there? Are you snogging or something?” Erica teased.


  “Shut it, Erica,” Court hissed, not resorting to the usual carefree banter he normally gave Erica when she teased him.

  The boys darted through the passage and the group made their way across the field to the enormous, dark-stoned school.

  Xavier was relieved that he hadn’t missed much in his classes, especially Latin, which wasn’t his best subject. He didn’t want to think about what his year would be like if he fell behind on the second day of school. Fortunately, all he had missed was a pretest reviewing last year’s concepts and vocabulary. Sir Spencer spent the class period reviewing the test and focusing on concepts the class struggled with the most. Surprisingly, Xavier found that he knew most of what was being covered. Relieved that his day was going so well, he made his way to Advanced Mathematics. He had always been good in math, and as a result, he had been placed in an Advanced Algebra Concepts class.

  When he entered the classroom, he was pleased to find Garrett there, waving enthusiastically at him from the far side of the room. As he made his way over to his friend, he collided with a large, beefy body.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Prince of Pipsqueaks!” Jonas sneered down at him.

  “Back off, Jonas!” Xavier felt a rush of relief at Drew’s voice behind him.

  “Since when did you decide you were the keeper and protector of nose-miners, Drew?” Jonas chastised.

  “Since now,” Drew stated firmly.

  “God, you’re becoming a complete crown polisher, Hardcastle. Are you going to wipe his butt when he takes a crap too?” Jonas spat out.

  “No, but if you keep it up, you’ll be eating through yours!”

  The boys stood glaring at one another until Jonas finally muttered, “Crotch sniffer.” Then he turned and walked away.