The Prince of Warwood and The War of Kings

by Clinton, J. Noel

Dusting himself off, Xavier stood and surveyed the fighting around him. Henrick stood feet from him in battle, holding his own, but the young private behind him was not. The dark soldier swept out his leg, knocking the young man to the ground before raising his sword to deliver a mortal blow. Xavier lunged at the soldier and tackled him to the ground. Although he had the element of surprise on his side, he knew he needed to untangle himself from the soldier and get clear to draw his sword if he were to have any chance of surviving. Xavier quickly rolled to the left and sprang to his feet, drawing his sword. The young guard on the ground behind him was injured and panting heavily. He needed a healer and fast! However, the dark soldier wasn’t about to let him call timeout to get the man help.

  The soldier swung a wide, powerful arc with his sword, and Xavier braced himself for the vibrating clang that would come. Using the impact to create a quick spin, Xavier swung around and struck the dark man in the abdomen, slicing deeply into his gut. As the man cowered in pain, Xavier took advantage of the opportunity to break the man’s neck, and he dropped to the ground with a thud. Then he scrambled to the injured guard, who wheezed and gasped for breath but was having a hard time succeeding.

  “It’s okay. Just relax! I can help you,” he told the young man, kneeling next to him and surveying the injury.

  It was a gut wound, painful and surely a death sentence if not dealt with soon. Xavier placed his hands over the wound, applying slight pressure as he closed his eyes to concentrate on the task at hand. Within seconds, he and the guard were ignited in a bright, white light as the rejuvenation power ran its course. Soon the labored breathing lessened and the light evaporated. Xavier opened his eyes and found the young guard struggling to sit up.

  “How… how…” he stammered. “You can… can heal? How many powers do you have, sire?”

  “I dunno,” Xavier shrugged. “I’ve never counted.” He stood and helped the young man to his feet.

  “Are you serious?”

  Xavier simply shrugged at the man and picked up his sword before asking, “Have you seen my father?”

  “He was fighting at the gatehouse earlier. I don’t see him now. I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Xavier answered and ran into the chaos of battle near the gatehouse.

  As he approached the gatehouse, he saw no sign of his father. Outside the gatehouse, hundreds of dark soldiers gathered around the destroyed entrance, pushing forward in attempts to enter the kingdom. If every last one of the soldiers made their way into the kingdom, the battle would only intensify and become more treacherous than it already was. The group was clustered closely together, unaware that such a formation was a grave mistake on their part. Theoretically, Xavier could take out the entire army outside the gatehouse. He only needed a good vantage point so that no Warwoodian would be on the receiving end of his empowerments.

  Xavier looked around at the fighting men. He could get to the front of the fighting lines and expel his lethal empowerment, but that would take time they didn’t have. Then he looked up. The kingdom wall was mostly intact on either side of the gatehouse. He could teleport there, but it was risky since he had no idea how wide the ledge was along the top of the wall. He could easily misjudge and tumble over the edge, falling to his death. Sighing, he wracked his brain on what empowerment would get him to the top of the wall. Then he remembered he could fly! He’d never really attempted to engage in his levitation power before, but if any moment required it, it was now. After a moment of focusing on Robbie and how his feelings for her had initiated his first experience with levitation, he elevated into the air above the battle. Concentrating on the wall and where he wished to go, he found himself floating toward the wall. Easier than he thought possible, he soon found himself standing on the wall. He looked back at the battle behind him only to find many, ally and enemy alike, staring up at him in awe. He turned towards the swarm of dark soldiers trying to force their way into the kingdom.

  “Turn away and I will show mercy!” he shouted down at the men.

  The majority of the dark soldiers looked up at him with a sneer. “Mercy? There will be no mercy when we get our hands on you!” one soldier shouted, his voice full of hatred.

  “Please, listen! This is your last chance to walk away from this! End this attack on my kingdom, or I will be forced to kill you all!”

  The men below him burst into vicious, scornful laughter. “Kill us? You are only a boy! It would take more than the likes of you to kill us!” the same man shouted, and the group laughed as they doubled their efforts to push forward into the kingdom.

  “Stop! I’m warning you!” Xavier shouted, his voice breaking as he raised his hand shakily as he tried to focus on the outspoken dark soldier. Suddenly, a blinding, golden light erupted from his hands, and every soldier in its path was incinerated to ash.

  He stared down at his hands before scanning the now empty, ash-filled field. What had happened? He hadn’t meant to kill them all! He only wanted to show them what he was capable of so that they would run away. The stillness and eerie silence behind him had him turning his attention to inside the kingdom walls.

  Enemy and ally alike stood stone still, staring at the ash remains of hundreds of the dark soldiers. Then panic erupted from the remaining dark soldiers, and they fought to retreat. After the last of the enemy was chased from the kingdom, guards and citizens alike erupted into cheers.

  “Long live Prince Wells!” shouted a man from the crowd, and that was all it took for the crowd to begin to chant.

  Blushing from the attention, Xavier waved down at the Warwoodians below him as he stepped off the edge of the wall and floated gracefully to the ground. The crowd stared in amazement. Once he touched ground, the crowd converged around him, slapping him on the back and thanking him. When Xavier recognized a sergeant from his training exercises, he grabbed the guard.

  “Where’s my father? He was here, but we got separated.”

  “A mayday call came from the palace. A group of dark soldiers made it to the palace gates. He, General Hardcastle, and General Jefferson all went back to the castle.”

  Xavier felt fear race down his spine. He had to find his father. He had to protect him… but how? The Prophet had never told him the plan to save the king’s life. Xavier raced out of the crowd, feeling several thumps on his back as he went. Plan or not, he had to try something. Fear clawed at his gut as he cleared the crowd and teleported to the palace.

  Chapter 24

  The extraordinary ability that had erupted from him at the gatehouse had scared Xavier. He had little to no control over the ability, and he couldn’t afford to conjure the rogue power again. Without the precision needed to wield it, using it again would be like playing Russian roulette.

  Once at the palace, he didn’t have time to contemplate the unwieldly power. The battle at the palace was fierce and bloody. Dark soldier and royal guard alike lay maimed, dead or dying on the horseshoe drive. Ephraim and Loren fought side by side near the palace’s entrance. Xavier made his way toward the men, not even flinching as a dark soldier charged him. He simply extended his hand and made a twisting motion. The man stopped dead in his tracks as his neck snapped, and he dropped to the ground in a heap.

  Withdrawing his sword, Xavier approached the dark soldier giving Ephraim a run for his money. The man was quite a talented swordsman, but Ephraim was better. If Xavier had time to watch the fight, he would have enjoyed watching Ephraim cut the man down, but as it was, he had to find his father—the king’s life depended on it. As the dark soldier drew back to attack, Xavier lunged his sword forward, impaling the man, who dropped to his knees before dying with a look of astonishment on his face.

  “Xavier, good to see you in one piece, boy,” Ephraim stated, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Inside. A group of dark soldiers made their way into the palace before we got here. He and a small squad went in to clear the palace of the enemy.”

  Without a word,
Xavier rushed past the generals and into the palace, racing down the hall, up the stairs and through the wide-open residency door. The receiving room was all but destroyed. Signs of battle were all around the room. The dead body of a dark soldier next to the couch was a dead giveaway. A shout from his father’s bedroom drew Xavier’s attention to the second floor. Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, he climbed the stairs two at a time until he crept quietly but swiftly towards the king’s bedroom. The door stood slightly ajar. Slowly he pushed it open. The room was disheveled, but there was no sign of his father. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting from the patio. He hurried toward the patio door when he saw Lana on the floor, next to the bed. Xavier raced to her side. She was bleeding profusely from a gash on her head.

  “Lana? Lana? Are you okay?” he whispered desperately, shaking her. She didn’t respond. She needed medical attention! Closing his eyes and breathing evenly, Xavier began a medical scan of her body for internal bleeding or serious injury. Slowly he ran his elevated hand over her body, making mental notes of her injuries. She had a mild concussion. Her arm was broken, but her ribs were intact, which also meant her internal organs were uninjured. She was pregnant, and her legs were uninjured. Wait a second! Pregnant? Xavier moved his hand quickly back to his stepmother’s abdomen. A fast, fluttering sound filled his head. Scanning deeper into Lana’s abdomen, a baby’s image appeared in his mind, and he smiled. He was going to be a big brother! Ceasing the scan, Xavier opened his eyes and looked down at Lana. He put his hand over her bleeding head and quickly healed it shut. A couple of seconds later, her eyes flickered open, and she looked at him with puzzled eyes.

  “Xavier? What… where’s your father? There are dark soldiers in the castle!” she whispered urgently.

  “I know. I’ll find Dad, but you gotta get out of the residence. Find Loren and Ephraim at the entrance. They’ll make sure you stay safe.”

  “Come with me, honey.”

  “I can’t. I have to find Dad. This is my responsibility. I have to fight. I have to end this once and for all. Please, Lana, go.”

  Lana slowly got to her feet and hugged and kissed him. “Be careful, sweetie!”

  “I will. I promise!”

  After a final squeeze, Lana left the room. Xavier turned and surveyed the room. Henrick lay motionless on the floor next to the mantle. He quickly went to the fallen guard and checked for a pulse. There was none. Pain and remorse stabbed into his chest just as his father’s voice shouted from the patio, “Surrender or die!”

  Xavier quickly crept to the double glass door and peered out onto the large patio that resembled a garden more than a patio. Twenty feet away, his father stood with his back to him, holding his sword blade to the throat of a fallen dark soldier.

  “Never!” the man hissed in response.

  “So be it,” the king remarked, drawing his sword back slightly and striking the man swiftly. Without a sound, the man fell into a heap at the king’s feet. Jeremiah turned, and as his eyes met Xavier’s, Xavier felt a chill from the coldness he saw there. Then the king’s eyes widened and the coldness was replaced with terror.

  “Xavier!” he shouted, his hand raising as if to reach him.

  Xavier felt the attack and instinctively dropped to the floor, rolled to his back, and lifted his sword just as a stunning jolt of metal meeting metal rocked up his arms. Danson’s evil sneer mocked him.

  “So glad you could finally join us, Prince Wells. We didn’t want to start this party without you!”

  “If you hurt a single hair on his body, you will pay,” Jeremiah promised, marching toward the man.

  Danson only smirked. “Hurt him? Of course not, sire. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Danson leaned toward Xavier, who struggled to hold the locked swords away from his body. “I plan to kill him.”

  “Good luck with that. Maybe I should close my eyes so you’ll have at least half a chance at it. It wouldn’t seem fair otherwise,” Xavier chided.

  Danson stared at him, and with an ornery grin and a slight nod, Xavier propelled the man out the patio door, barely missing his father, before crashing into a birdbath. The king turned to deal with the dark man, who struggled to his feet, while Xavier turned to face the tremendous energy he felt coming into his father’s bedroom. Sure enough, the Sword of the Chosen led the way into the room like a glowing beacon. The Sword of the Chosen had the power to recognize the Chosen and glow in his presence, but it seemed Xavier had the ability to feel when the sword was near. Gripping his benign sword tightly at the sight of it, Xavier readied himself for his destiny. The time was now. It was finally here.

  Relief and fear pulsed through his body as Fox LeMasters stepped into the room followed by two very large, burly bodyguards. The older boy stopped at the sight of him while Xavier sized up his enemy. He was a good four inches taller and probably outweighed him by fifty pounds. Fox was no longer a boy. He had grown much bigger since Xavier had last seen him nearly a year and a half ago.

  “Well, if it isn’t my father’s killer. I can’t tell you how much I have dreamed of this day.”

  Then Fox launched himself at Xavier. So much for small talk. If anything, Fox’s eagerness to kill him could be used against him.

  Xavier stood his ground and waited until the older teen propelled himself toward him in a very sloppy attack. He left his underside too exposed. Xavier stepped forward, knelt, and spun as Fox went flying past him—the Sword of the Chosen swiping the empty air above him. Then, before Fox’s feet found solid purchase, Xavier expelled a force at the teen, sending him crashing face first into the king’s mahogany bureau. There was a soft crack on impact before Fox fell into a heap on the floor.

  Xavier stood, but Fox’s bodyguards suddenly grabbed him, jerking him off his feet, and slamming him to the floor, flat on his back. The air was forced from his lungs at such force it left him gasping to regain his breath. One of the goons kicked him in the side, which really didn’t help the trying to breathe thing. He didn’t even have enough breath to whimper at the pain as a rib cracked in his side. The second goon kicked him in the head. Damn! Was the guy wearing steel-toed boots? Xavier’s vision dimmed. The good news was it appeared he was finally regaining his breath as he inhaled a deep, wheezy breath before coughing violently.

  “Don’t! He’s mine!” Fox’s overly nasal, distorted voice announced.

  Seconds later, Fox’s smashed and bleeding face appeared over Xavier. “You will pay for that, boy. You will learn the meaning of dying slowly and painfully.”

  Fox grabbed him by the shirt, hauled him off the floor, and slammed him against the wall. Xavier whimpered as a slicing pain radiated out from his cracked rib. Fox punched him, and Xavier couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from him. Fox sneered triumphantly.

  “Why would they believe that you would ever stand a chance against me? You’re just a little boy,” he hissed in Xavier’s face, spraying him with spittle as he spoke.

  “You know?” Xavier wheezed out, “I might consider surrendering if you’d just stop giving me a shower with your spit.” Okay, maybe teasing Fox wasn’t a bright idea, but Xavier couldn’t help it. The guy was so full of himself and condescending that he rivaled his father’s arrogance.

  The blow came swiftly and suddenly. Xavier fell to the floor, coughing as Fox stepped back and raised his sword. The hair on the back of Xavier’s neck stood at attention as Fox swung the sword downward, but the blow never came. Xavier looked up at the older boy who stared wide-eyed at the sword hovering inches from his skull. Fox’s arm shook violently as he strained to control the sword that had suddenly halted the attack of its own accord.

  “Wh… What’s going on?” he spat, his eyes darting from the sword to Xavier and back again.

  “What do you think, numb nuts? It’s my sword. It won’t harm me!” he goaded. It was true. He didn’t know how he knew it was true, but he did all the same. Climbing to his feet, Xavier grabbed the hilt of the Sword of the Chosen and waved a hand over Fox�
��s firm grip. With that, he released the sword and staggered backwards.

  Twirling the sword with finesse, Xavier had the sword in his hand, and it hummed its welcome. With a large grin, Xavier beckoned Fox with one hand while holding the sword at the ready in the other. Fox relieved one of his men of his sword and attacked. So predictable.

  Xavier effortlessly parried the attack, stepped to the side, spun, and sent the older boy across the room with a kick in the butt. Furious, Fox turned and attacked again. This time the older boy controlled his momentum and the swords clashed against each other. Fox was stronger, but he didn’t seem to possess much skill with the sword. Grinning, Xavier blocked every advance Fox made.

  “What are you smiling at?” he spat, locking swords with Xavier and shoving him against the wall.

  “I’m just wondering who the hell taught you to swordfight. You should really consider firing them. You suck, dude.”

  Using the wall as a point of propulsion, Xavier drove himself into Fox, and the pair flew across the room, taking out one of Fox’s bodyguards. The man slammed his head on the corner of the mantle and fell to the floor, motionless.

  Xavier positioned himself on top of Fox and smashed his fist into the boy’s already shattered nose. The older boy squealed loudly and thrust an electro force into Xavier. The force was powerful and sent him flying across the room. As he crashed to the floor, his sword clattered out of his hand and skidded toward the patio doorway. Fox stood and stomped toward him. When he knelt and grabbed Xavier by a handful of hair, Xavier punched him again. Fox released him and Xavier got to his feet, standing at the ready. His training in hand-to-hand combat didn’t seem so barbaric right now. Xavier beckoned Fox to him with a simple wave of his hand.

  While hatred flared in his black eyes, Fox swung the first punch, but Xavier easily deflected the strike and delivered an upper cut to his exposed soft underbelly. The air was forced from Fox’s lungs, and he staggered away from Xavier to safety. After a couple of deep breaths, Fox spun to face Xavier. The older teen studied him as he stood at the ready. Xavier stood taller at the uncertainty in Fox’s eyes. A sudden cry distracted both boys to the fighting on the patio. His father had disarmed Danson and was quickly advancing on him.