The Prince of Warwood and The War of Kings

by Clinton, J. Noel

  Laughing, Xavier yelled, “Ouch! Hey, I’d like to keep my ribs intact, guys. Come on, get off!”

  Slowly the group of boys climbed off Xavier, and Court helped him to his feet, grinning. “All right there, mate?”

  “Boys!” Erica gasped, rolling her eyes before hugging Xavier awkwardly. “Good to have one of my favorite scapegoats back.”

  Xavier laughed. Erica was Loren Jefferson’s youngest daughter, and like Loren, she had a wicked sense of humor and a knack for mischief. “Thanks a lot, but do you really think I need to be your scapegoat? I get into enough trouble without your help.”

  “Amen!” the king bellowed with a smirk.

  “He gets it honestly, Jeremiah Wells!” a soft reprimand directed at the king parted the crowd. Mrs. Sommers’ eyes widened the moment she spotted Xavier, and she squealed, cupping her hands to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my!” she gasped, bustling forward and capturing Xavier in a tight hug. Xavier felt his own eyes water. Although Mrs. Sommers was his governess, she had been the mothering influence he had so desperately needed after his mother died. He loved her dearly. Her body shuddered against him as a soft sob escaped her, but within seconds, she contained her emotions and pushed him at arm’s length to look him over. “Let me have a look at you,” she demanded past her tears. “Prince Wells, you’ve gotten so big! Your school uniforms will never do now! You’ll need a new set and shoes as well,” she finished, looking down at his feet.

  Xavier laughed, hugging and kissing the older woman on the cheek. “I missed you too, Mrs. Sommers.”

  Finally, she swatted him away. “Oh you! Stop that or you’ll have a blubbering old woman on your hands!” She briskly turned toward the crowd and announced, “There are refreshments and snacks in the dining hall. Help yourselves!”

  The crowd began to disperse in different directions, some heading to the dining hall, some moving toward the king and his generals standing nearby, and a few began dancing when someone turned on some music.

  “Sire?” an overly sweet voice called behind him.

  Xavier turned and saw Loren’s oldest daughter, Sara, standing behind him. Sara was only about a year and a half older than Xavier, but she often acted superior, as if she were much older. Basically, she was a little stuck up. Xavier wasn’t sure why she was that way. Both Loren and his wife, Lucy, were down-to-earth, nice people.

  “Hello, Miss Jefferson,” Xavier responded, nodding formally to her.

  Sara looked him up and down, and then surprising him, she hugged him.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered, her lips so close to his ear he felt each word breathed against his cheek. Chills shivered down his spine before rushing out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

  Robbie cleared her throat loudly from beside them. Sara lingered briefly to kiss his cheek before giving him a coy, sweet smile as she stepped away. Xavier went flushed and his mind blank.

  “Ah… ah… yeah. Thanks, Sara. I’m glad to be back,” he stammered.

  “Excuse me,” Robbie interrupted rudely, glaring at Sara. “I’d like to dance with my boyfriend.” Then she dragged Xavier into the small crowd of dancers. The couch and arm chairs had been shoved to the perimeter to provide ample dancing space.

  Xavier pulled Robbie close and began to sway in time to the lulling love ballad, but Robbie continued to glower at Sara.

  “What’s wrong?” Xavier whispered.

  “Nothing,” Robbie responded a bit too quickly, but when her eyes met his, she smiled shyly. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you so much!”

  “I missed you too,” Xavier choked out as Robbie nestled against him, laying her head against his shoulder. Her soft warm breath caressed his neck, and he had to close his eyes against the heat building inside him. Abruptly, he pulled away, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the library, closing the door behind them. He then turned to her and yanked her against him, kissing her. He had dreamed of this! And now that the dream was finally a reality, it was even better than he had imagined. Her lips were softer. Her body wasn’t just warm; it was hot and alive against him.

  “Robbie,” he moaned against her lips. “I love you.”

  He felt Robbie’s body tremble before she answered, “Oh God, Xavier. I’ve loved you all my life!”

  When they kissed again, Xavier thought he would combust from the heat pumping through his veins. When his lips finally left hers, he had to hold onto her to steady himself, and he opened his eyes. It was at this exact moment that Robbie gasped and stepped out of his arms, her face lifting with shock.

  Xavier frowned. “What?”

  “Your… your eyes!” she stuttered. “Your eyes are glowing, Xavier!”

  “What!” His heart thumped hard in his chest, and he ran to the nearest shiny object, a brass lamppost. Sure enough, his eyes glowed bright pink. He blinked and stared again. Yep, it was still there but fainter.

  “Oh no!” he gasped miserably. “Crap! I glow like dad! How sick is that?”

  Robbie started giggling.

  Xavier turned and glared at her. “Why are you laughing? This is embarrassing!”

  Robbie tried to stop laughing, but she couldn’t, and in the end, Xavier had to chuckle with her. She was so beautiful when she laughed. He went to her, pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. She stopped laughing.

  When he released her, she stared up at him absentmindedly. Then she mumbled, “They’re not glowing now. Why did they glow before and not now?”

  Blushing, Xavier opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly the door swung open, knocking him into Robbie, and they tumbled to the floor. He would have landed on top of her if he hadn’t stopped himself. Without thinking, he activated his levitation ability and hovered a few inches above her before rolling to the side and falling to the floor next to her. His father and Mike stood in the doorway, staring down at Xavier with nothing short of awe.

  Finally, his father broke the stunned silence that filled the room. “Son, you have other guests here besides Robbie. I think you should return to the party.”

  Xavier scrambled to his feet. “Y… yes, sir. Sorry.” Then he turned and helped Robbie to her feet, and the pair scrambled from the room and away from the men’s all-knowing smirks.

  “There you are!” Daniel blurted loudly the instant Xavier and Robbie emerged from the library.

  Every eye in the room swept toward the couple, and Xavier felt his face combust into tingling heat once again. Oblivious to the attention, Daniel danced up to Xavier.

  “Hey, Xavier! Guess what?” But Daniel didn’t wait for Xavier to guess before he was rambling on. “Dad built me a new fort. It’s even better than the first one! You should see it! It’s got this rope swing, a rope ladder, two different floors, and all kinds of stuff! It’s really cool!”

  “Sounds like it,” Xavier agreed with an indulging smile. “Maybe the guys and I can come over sometime and camp out in your fort.”

  Daniel’s eyes lit up, and he looked like he would explode with excitement. “Oh, wow! Seriously? That would be awesome!”

  “Well, I’ll talk it over with the guys and let you know.”

  “Sweet!” the smaller boy exclaimed and hurried toward his dad.

  Xavier could hear him animatedly explaining to Mike that he was going to have a sleep over with Xavier and all his friends.

  The party began to wind down close to eleven. The few who remained were Xavier’s closest friends. Xavier sat in an armchair with Robbie next to him while Court, Erica, Garrett, Beck, Harry, and Frankie sat around him.

  “Look, guys, I have something I need to tell you,” Xavier began, suddenly very nervous about what he had to say. He looked at Beck. “I lied to you, Beck. You asked me at the mountain if I was the Chosen. I couldn’t tell you then; no one was supposed to know. It would have been safer for all of us that way, but after what I did to the kingdom, I don’t think I can hide it. You were right. I am the Chosen.”

  The group just lo
oked up at him blankly.

  “Didn’t you guys hear me?”

  Garrett was the first to answer, “Geez, X. We kind of already figured that out for ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” Beck added. “You’re a horrible liar, mate. Besides, how can you not be the Chosen with all those abilities! How many do you have now?”

  Xavier shrugged, frowning at the thought that no one was surprised by his announcement. His father was right. There was no way he could hide who and what he was any longer. “Ah… to be honest, I’ve never counted,” he answered Beck’s question distractedly. “I don’t think I really want to know.”

  “Dang! That many?” Garrett gasped.

  “Well, we all figured out that you had to be the Chosen a long time ago. All of us except Frankie that is. That git thought that you could be the Dark King!”

  “No, I didn’t!” Frankie protested. “I said that my cousin thought he might be the Dark King. I don’t think… I’ve never thought that!”

  Beck smirked at Xavier and gave him a he’s-so-easy-to-torment look. Xavier had to grin. God, it was great to be back to a normal life. Well, maybe not exactly normal, but normal for him.

  Chapter 3

  The sword glinted orange in the dusk light as it sliced through the air, striking the king across the abdomen. Jeremiah cringed and doubled over in pain as the sword arced around and swept across his back. The king recoiled from the blow, arching backwards. His sword clattered to the brick tiled floor. Danson sneered triumphantly as he plunged the sword into the king’s chest. Jeremiah fell in a heap onto the ground.

  “NOOO!” Xavier screamed, sitting up in bed drenched in sweat. For a couple of panicked moments, he glanced around the dark room, confused and disoriented. Then he remembered. He was home. He was safe. His father was safe and sleeping in the next room. He wasn’t slain and dying on the palace’s garden patio. The war wasn’t yet upon them. With a loud sigh, Xavier flopped back into his pillows and ran his hands over his face.

  “Hello, young sire,” a deep voice spoke softly from the corner of his room.

  Xavier’s body was suddenly alive as fear and adrenaline crawled across his skin like a swarm of insects. Instinctively and without thought, he catapulted from his bed, summoning a blaring electro force at the ready in his palm.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded, sounding braver than he felt.

  “Easy boy,” the voice responded softly. Then with a soft pop, every light in the room switched on.

  Xavier blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness. The prophet, Abraham Vincent, stood leaning casually against Xavier’s computer desk.

  “Could you put that away, sire? I’m not terribly fond of being electrocuted,” the prophet remarked with a smirk.

  Xavier extinguished the force and dropped his hand to his side. “What are you doing here?”

  The man chuckled. “I haven’t been able to visit you for six months, and that is all you can think of saying?”

  The prophet grinned. Xavier wasn’t sure he had ever seen the old man grin before. He was struck by how young he appeared when smiling. He was handsome for an old guy.

  “How have you been? Lord, you’ve gotten taller,” he remarked as he sauntered toward him.

  Xavier blinked. Did he just ask him how he had been? When did the prophet inquire into his well-being?

  “Ah…, I’m fine,” he answered nervously.

  “Good to be home, eh?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  The prophet chuckled softly and ran a hand through his short-cropped gray hair, giving it a spiked, rolled-out-of-bed look. “I can see my idle chatter is making you nervous, so I’ll get to the point.” He looked down at Xavier with a solemn expression. “I know what your nightmare was about. I’d like to tell you that it was only a dream, but I’d be lying, and I’m sure you already know that it wasn’t just a dream.”

  The prophet paused and looked down at him as if expecting a response. He didn’t want to talk about this! “Y… yeah,” he managed to croak out.

  Abe nodded and continued, “I’d like to tell you it won’t happen, but I’m afraid it will.”

  He felt pain tighten in his chest, and he bit back a sob building there. Abruptly, he turned away from the prophet and busied himself by straightening his sparse nightstand, but the picture of his mother was his undoing, and he buried his face in his hands, vainly fighting against the tears.

  “Xavier? Ah, come on, boy. Don’t do that!” the prophet whispered, his voice thick with remorse. He grabbed Xavier’s shoulders and spun him around.

  A blinding flash erupted from the prophet’s hands the instant his hands came into contact with Xavier, and he yanked his hands away as if burned. Xavier gasped, his grief momentarily forgotten.

  “Wh… what was that?” he exclaimed, looking up into the prophet’s shocked face.

  “I… I’m not exactly sure. But if I were to venture a guess, I’d say that it appears that you and I create a paradox now that your influx is complete and you’ve acquired all your abilities. I fear that if I were to touch you again, it would end my ability to time travel, and I would cease to exist in this realm,” Abe stated, still staring down at his hands. He looked at Xavier and suddenly grinned. “Let’s not do that again, eh?”

  Xavier understood very little of the older man’s words but couldn’t help but smile. “Prophet Vincent… sir… can it be stopped? Can I prevent my father from being killed?

  The prophet sighed. “I don’t know, Xavier, but if anyone has a chance at stopping it, it would be you. I’ll do what I can to help you so long as it doesn’t lead to your demise.”

  Xavier nodded. Maybe he could get his father out of the kingdom before the battle began.

  The prophet cleared his throat and added, “Let me amend my last statement, sire. I will do what I can to help you so long as it doesn’t lead to your death, the downfall of the kingdom, or the success of the Dark King in his conquest for world domination.”

  Xavier frowned. He didn’t give a damn about the kingdom or the world if his father wasn’t in it. How did the prophet know what he was thinking?

  “Prince Wells,” the old man sighed, closing his eyes to reign in the irritation that painted his face and laced his words. “I am telepathic. This kingdom is your responsibility whether you want it or not. You should care about the safety and the future of its citizens! Can you honestly tell me you’d choose the death of numerous innocent men, women, and children in exchange for your father’s life?”

  Xavier squirmed under the prophet’s heated glare before answering, “No, sir.”

  The prophet exhaled the tension that had built up inside him. “All right, look. You need to understand how things are for a time bender,” he announced as he grabbed Xavier’s desk chair and dragged it next to the bed.

  Xavier sank onto the edge of the bed as once again something about the prophet sparked a memory. The man reminded him of someone… Then it struck him. Abe reminded him of his father! As the old man settled in the chair in front of him, Xavier studied the prophet’s features closely. His eyes looked remarkably like his dad’s. His voice, the way he spoke, was similar to the king’s voice, and the way he kept running his hand through his hair was a gesture he had seen Jeremiah do numerous times.

  “What is it, boy?” Abe questioned, his brow frowning with concern, much like his father’s would.

  “Ah…” Xavier stammered, hopeful. “Um, are you… are you my father?”

  Abe’s eyes widened with surprise before humor danced into his features. “What?” he blurted with a chuckle. “You think that I’m Jeremiah Wells IV?”

  His reaction was answer enough. The prophet was not his father, and Xavier felt his hope sink. Feeling dangerously close to tears, Xavier muttered, “No, I guess not.”

  “Why did you think I was your father, young sire?” the prophet asked softly, seeing the boy’s forlorn expression.

  Xavier shrugged in response.

  “Xavier? Look at
me,” Abe ordered gently.

  Xavier’s eyes reluctantly met the prophet’s.

  “Why did you think I was your father?”

  Xavier fought back the tears that pooled in his eyes. “I… I guess… you remind me of him—the way you talk, your eyes… I don’t know. I guess I was just hoping that you were because if you’re my dad then… then there’s still a chance he can be saved… that he won’t die.”

  “Xavier,” the prophet chided gently. “I’m not your father. I’ve told you, your father is dead in my world and has been for a long time. He was killed during the great war, the War of Kings.”

  Xavier lost his battle against his tears, and they flowed freely down his cheeks. “What do I do? There’s got to be some way of saving him!” he moaned, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

  “There is a chance. I’m not sure it will work, but I have an idea. Your father is a very stubborn man,” Abe told him before adding bitterly, “The man nearly got himself killed at the climax of your influx. I told him long ago that he needed to obtain additional powers from the Key, but he refused to listen until it was almost too late.” The prophet shook his head irritably. “So, reasoning with him will be futile. We’ll need to be stealthier, devious if you will. But before you can do what I have in mind, before I can tell you my plan, you must strengthen your telepathic abilities, especially those blocking abilities! If I were to tell you the plan now, Jeremiah would most assuredly pry it from you, and it would fail. Do you think you can do that, young sire? Do you think you can work on your telepathy?”

  Xavier nodded enthusiastically as hope for the future swelled inside him. “Yes, sir! I can. I will. I’ll do anything if it means Dad won’t die.”

  Abe nodded. “I know you will, Xavier. I know. I want you to have a better life than what you have in my world. A happy king is a great king.”

  “What’s my life like… in the future?”

  The prophet hesitated before answering with great care. “Sire, knowing too much about the future can have unexpected and often dire effects on events. I can’t describe your life in great detail. I can only give you the necessary facts that will help you save your father. I don’t yet know what the effects of saving your father will have on your future or the future of this kingdom. I believe his life could only be beneficial, but I cannot make that assumption. I must get a vision or see it first-hand.”