The Prince of Warwood and The Sword of the Chosen (Book 3)

by J. Noel Clinton

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please,” he called, which was unnecessary for the entire hall had fallen silent the moment the men entered the room. “This shirt was discovered while sifting through the debris in the cave.” He held up the filthy sweatshirt. “It appears to be a boy’s shirt with the initials G.B. and belongs to the person sleeping in bunk eighteen,” he continued.

  Mr. and Mrs. Bracus’ heads jerked toward their son, and Mr. Bracus feverishly whispered to Garrett.

  “Whoever is responsible for the cave-in, this is your chance to come clean and take responsibility for your actions,” the king announced.

  A prickling sensation crept up Xavier’s spine, and he looked up and met his father’s steel, unwavering eyes. Jeremiah opened his mouth to say something when Mr. Bracus’ loud words drew his attention away.

  “Garrett! Answer me, boy! Is that your shirt? Did you have something to do with the cave-in today?” Mr. Bracus bellowed heatedly.

  Xavier watched Garrett’s head drop, and then after a moment, he nodded. Xavier groaned inwardly and closed his eyes with dread.

  “Sire?” Mr. Bracus called, standing nervously. “Sire, I’m sorry, but that shirt belongs to my son.”

  “Is this true, Garrett Bracus?” Jeremiah questioned sternly. “Does this shirt belong to you? Were you on the restricted level in the Crystal Cave?”

  Garrett seemed incapable of looking up at the king as he nodded.

  “There’s no way the boy acted alone. I doubt his empowerments are strong enough to do the kind of damage we saw. Let me talk to the boy and find out what he knows. You need to eat. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something,” Loren whispered.

  Jeremiah nodded. “All right. Thanks, Loren.”

  Loren stood and waved Garrett to him, and they left the hall with Mr. Bracus behind them. His appetite suddenly lost, Xavier slouched back into his chair.

  “Xavier? Please tell me you had nothing to do with this,” his father whispered, staring at him suspiciously.

  “Uh, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he muttered.

  Halfway through dinner, Loren returned and approached the front table with a grimace. “Jer, Garrett refuses to talk. I may need you after all.”

  Jeremiah shoveled one last spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth before gently pushing the plate away from him, wiping his mouth, and standing. “Okay, where is he?”

  “The fencing room,” Loren answered, leading the king from the head table, past the rows of citizens finishing their meals, and out of the hall.

  “Uh oh,” Court groaned as he plopped himself in the king’s chair. “Garrett must be putting up a good fight if Loren came after the heavy guns…if your father uses telepathy on Garrett, we’re all screwed.”

  Xavier couldn’t help but agree with Court. “Damn! We’ve got to get everybody together and get our story straight! Come on.”

  The boys stood, and after beckoning the other children to them, they made their way toward the back of the hall. They had trouble finding a table to themselves because even though most of the mountain’s population had finished eating, many lingered, visiting with one another.

  “What are we going to do, Xavier?” Frankie asked in a panic-stricken voice once the group had settled around a table at the far side of the hall.

  “Well…” Xavier began, but the doors opened with a loud bang, and the king stood rigidly in its entrance.

  “Xavier Wells! Courtney Hardcastle! Beckley Wilcox! Harry Sims! Franklin MacCorkle! Mackenzie Clarke! Erica Jefferson! And Roberta Minnows! Come here!” he boomed, his voice echoing around the hall.

  The children exchanged looks of terror.

  “Now!” the king shouted.

  Slowly, as though they were walking to their own execution, the group of children shuffled to the doorway as every eye in the hall watched. They followed King Wells down the hallway and into the fencing classroom. Garrett sat at a table with Mr. Bracus, Loren, and Henrick Davies, who was covered head to toe in grime.

  “Sit!” Jeremiah barked, pointing at the table.

  The children scrambled to oblige. The four men glared silently down at them, and the children ducked their heads guiltily.

  “Children?” Loren questioned, calmly.

  Not one child said a word. They simply slumped deeper into their seats.

  Xavier quickly connected with his friends and warned, “Don’t say a word. Just keep your minds blank and let me do the talking.”

  “Xavier? Don’t play games with me, boy!” his father shouted.

  “Games? What…”

  “Son, you may have been able to block my telepathic advances earlier, but you’re not consistent at it.” Xavier opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t blocked him, but his father interrupted. “In addition, you do not yet possess the ability to send telepathic messages without those messages being easily intercepted or heard. So you can be assured that I heard every message you sent today. I know you warned Garrett about the sweatshirt. I know you warned these children to let you do the talking and to keep their minds blank. I know you had a major hand in all of this. After all, none of these children have a strong enough electro force to destroy those crystal reserves. So, aside from an adult being responsible, that leaves you, my son.”

  “Maybe it was an adult,” Xavier grumbled. “I…didn’t…do it, Father. Really.”

  Jeremiah grabbed him by the collar, hauled him out of his seat, and held him within inches of his snarling face. “Don’t lie to me!”

  “Why not? You’ve lied to me for months, Dad!” he spat back.

  Uh, oh! His father had that fiery look in his eye again, and Xavier swallowed anxiously. After a long moment, he whispered, “Fine. You’re right. We were there…in the Crystal Cave. We went exploring and we found that…cave, and before any of us knew it, there was this loud rumble and the place began falling apart…so we ran for it.”

  His father released him but continued to stare astringently down at him. He wasn’t buying it. “Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Just like that? It just caved in?”

  “Yes, sir…” Xavier began, but faltered under his father’s stare. His eyes dropped to his father’s boots and muttered, “Although…I might have…fired a few electro forces at the ceiling.”

  All four men jerked to attention.

  “You did what?” Loren hissed incredulously.

  “I…I didn’t know it would cause a cave-in!” he continued in a rush. “It just…it looked like fireworks…I…I’m sorry!”

  “You endangered your life and the lives of your friends!” his father barked. “Not to mention, you’ve single-handedly destroyed a large crystal reservoir that is invaluable to our survival in the mountain! Those crystals provide our gardens with essential sunlight. Without them, we would have a major food shortage! Sorry just doesn’t cut it!” The king’s anger wasn’t diminishing. If anything, it seemed to be escalating.

  “Father, I didn’t know…I didn’t do it intentionally! Really!” he stammered.

  “But, you have been told, REPEATEDLY, that the lower levels are off limits to unauthorized citizens! Why do you think that is, son?” The king didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll tell you why! Because those passages and chambers are DANGEROUS! None of you had any business being down there!”

  “But, sire,” Frankie said timidly. “Xavier gave us authorization. He said as king, he could do…”

  “HE IS NOT KING! He has absolutely NO authority to do that, Franklin!” Jeremiah boomed, and every child ducked and flinched.

  “Easy, Jer,” Loren interrupted calmly.

  Jeremiah visibly tried to compose himself and after a moment, he looked back at the children. “All right, all of you are grounded to the children’s dormitories indefinitely. After studies and chores, you are to be in the dormitories! No visiting the games room. No playing rugby! Nothing but work and confinement! Understand?”

  The group nodded solemnly.

&
nbsp; “Go on to your dormitories. Loren and I will be down in a few minutes to administer the final touch to your punishments!” Jeremiah growled.

  “Final touch, sire?” Robbie questioned meekly.

  “He means we’re being spanked.” Xavier groaned.

  The children looked at each other in alarm.

  “Did you really think you wouldn’t be spanked for this?” Loren asked the children. “You could have been killed. Hell, we’re lucky that the crystals didn’t intensify the energy created by the cave-in! If it had, it would have caused a disaster of unforeseen proportions. This entire mountain could have exploded!”

  “Seriously? That could have happened?” Beck whispered in awe.

  “Yes, it could have, Beckley! By the grace of God, it didn’t!” the king told him. “Now, all of you go straight to the dorms. We’ll be there shortly.”

  The group slinked out of their seats and quietly left the room.

  “Son, I’ll be with you as soon as I have dealt with the others. So I want you ready for bed before I get there.”

  Xavier closed his eyes with dread, and with a nod, he left the room.

  Nearly a half an hour later, Xavier was sitting on the couch trying to concentrate on his make-up assignments, when his father entered the chambers. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t diminish the look of foreboding and anger on his face. Slowly, Xavier closed his book and set it aside.

  “I got word that the Crystal Cave is nearly cleaned up. It’s estimated that at least twenty percent of the crystals are damaged beyond use.” After rubbing his face wearily, Jeremiah crossed the room, grabbed a chair from the table, and moved it to sit in front of his son. “Xavier, what were you thinking? Why did you and your friends go into the restricted level again?” he questioned.

  “I don’t know, sir. I…I just wanted to do something fun to get my mind…off…things. I really am sorry, Dad. I wouldn’t have used electro forces on the ceiling if I’d known…”

  “That’s not the point, son. You had no business being down there to begin with!” he interrupted as he stood and began pacing to calm his temper.

  Xavier sighed miserably. “I know, Dad. I…I’m sorry.”

  His father stopped to pin him with a stern glare. “You’re sorry? You know what, Xavier? Sorry doesn’t bring back those destroyed crystals. Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you and your friends could have been killed today, son!”

  “Yeah, and I bet it pisses you off that it would have ruined your suicide plans,” he mumbled.

  “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that if I were to die, you wouldn’t be able to fulfill your stupid vision of killing yourself for me! You’re not even trying to avoid it!” he spat.

  “What? Of course I’m going to try to avoid it! My vision has nothing to do with what happened in the Crystal Caves today.”

  “Whatever,” he spat and started to roll his eyes, but the king had him by the collar before he could.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, boy!” his father growled, pulling the boy inches from his face.

  Xavier stared obstinately into his eyes.

  “Fine,” he snapped, propelled the boy across his hip, and pinned him there. Xavier squirmed in his grasp, but his father tightened his grip and proceeded to pummel his backside with several solid, jolting smacks before finally releasing him. Xavier glared up at him with a tear-soaked face as he rubbed his butt with a grimace. For a long moment, father and son stared at one another in strained silence.

  Finally, his father whispered, “It’s getting late. Go to bed.”

  Without a word, Xavier turned, stomped into his chamber, and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 25

  The Plan

  That night, Xavier had nightmare. He found himself standing outside of Warwood Palace. It was a moonless night and the palace looked dark and uninhabited. He could barely make out the horseshoe- shaped drive and median, which was normally a luscious flowerbed. But, there weren’t flowers in the garden now, only barren earth, and something erected in the center. It appeared to be a large altar and something was resting on it.

  Slowly, he moved toward the structure, terror mounting in him like a geyser building up for an eruption. The heap on the altar was covered by a dark cloak that seemed to be stained by something wet and sticky. Panting as though he had just run a marathon, Xavier peeled back the cloak, and a scream caught painfully in his throat. His father’s lifeless, dismembered body lay on the altar in a pool of blood. With the image of his father’s wide, lifeless eyes still haunting him, Xavier jerked awake screaming. Still caught in limbo between the horrific images of the dream and consciousness, he didn’t hear his father enter the room nor did he acknowledge the room being flooded in light.

  “Xavier?” Jeremiah called, hurrying to his side. “Xavier, wake up, son!”

  “Dad?” he croaked, blinking up at his father. Then, his face fell into anguish. “Dad!” he cried, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

  “Lord, boy, you’re shaking! What on Earth…”

  “I saw it, Dad! I saw your death! You had been…sacrificed on an altar like some kind of animal! You weren’t even whole…you had…someone…chopped you up!” He clung to his father weeping as he begged, “Dad, please…PLEASE promise me you won’t sacrifice yourself for me…PLEASE…I couldn’t stand it if…that happened to you. I’ll kill myself. You hear me? If you die for me, I’ll kill myself.” Then he broke down, his entire body racking on each howling sob.

  “Xavier…” Jeremiah cooed, holding him close. “It’s okay, son. Please, stop crying. Look, I promise you I’m looking for every way possible to avoid what I saw. And I did not see myself being sacrificed as you described. What you saw in your dream was just that, a dream, a nightmare. Aw, son. Please, stop crying.”

  As his crying gradually ebbed away, his father scooped him up into his arms and carried him into his bedchambers, settling into bed next to him.

  “Are you okay, now?” his father asked hoarsely, stroking his cheek and jaw.

  He nodded and whispered sheepishly, “Thanks.”

  “No problem, son. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Without a word, he cuddled into his father’s warmth and felt himself beginning to relax into a slumber.

  The next morning Xavier awoke with a strong urge to pee, but he was pinned beneath his father’s arm and leg. His father was still sleeping deeply, and he struggled to free himself. Finally he managed to lift an arm off his chest and set to work on the leg draped across his, but his father moaned and pulled him back into his embrace.

  “Dad?” Xavier whined, elbowing him in the ribs.

  Jeremiah jolted awake. “What?” he blurted sleepily.

  “I’ve got to go to the bathroom and you’re holding me down,” he complained.

  “What? Oh, sorry about that. Come on,” his father muttered before climbing from the bed and pulling Xavier with him. With a wave of his hand, the crystal lamps provided just enough light so they wouldn’t walk into things but not so much that it hurt their eyes.

  “Dad, I can go by myself. You don’t have to hover over me,” he told him when Jeremiah followed him into the common room. Though he wouldn’t ever admit it, he kind of liked the hovering.

  “I’m not hovering. I have to go too,” his father retorted.

  Xavier knew that it was a lie, but he appreciated it all the same. Father and son walked into the hall and padded down the passage toward the lavatory. “Are you doing okay?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Dad. Really, I’m fine. It’s just…”

  “What, son?”

  “It was like some of the dreams I’ve had before…the ones that came true,” Xavier said with a shiver. “I’m afraid…Dad, I don’t want you to go with the Royal Guard to get Warwood back.”

  Jeremiah stopped him. “Son,” he began, grasping his sho
ulders and stooping to eye level with him, “I must go. It’s my duty. What kind of king would send his men into battle without fighting alongside them?”

  “Okay, then, take me with you. Let me fight with you. I couldn’t stand it if I had to remain behind and worry about what was happening. Please!” he begged.

  “Absolutely not, Xavier. We’ve been through this before. I will not take a twelve-year-old boy into battle. A war is no place for a boy,” his father stated with such finality that Xavier knew it was useless to argue.

  He didn’t say another word as they continued into the lavatory, but his mind busily planned what to do next. No one would die to protect him again. He would save his father’s life. LeMasters wouldn’t threaten anyone ever again. He would make sure of it. Xavier planned to kill William LeMasters.

  The next morning following breakfast, the men said farewell to their families before their journey to Mirror Lake. It was a solemn time; many wondered if they would ever see one another again.

  “Dad, can I walk out with you?” Xavier asked quietly.

  Jeremiah looked down at him hesitantly.

  “Please? I promise, I won’t make a scene. I just…I just want to walk you out,” he pleaded.

  Jeremiah nodded. “Okay. Get your cloak. The outer passages are very cold.”

  “Yes, sir.” he grinned and hurried toward the stairwell.

  When he reached the fourth level, he sprinted down the hall and into the royal chambers, grabbing his long, blue cloak. Then he ran out of the chambers and started toward the stairwell, but skidded to a stop outside the Jefferson’s chambers. As Keeper of the King’s Key, Loren would keep the key close to him. It had to be somewhere inside his chambers. It could prove to be extremely useful. He wanted, no, he needed the King’s Key to accomplish his plans.

  Xavier entered the chambers without hesitation for he knew both Loren and Lucy were saying goodbye on the main level with all the other families. However, he had no idea where to look for the key, and his father was expecting him to return to the mountain’s entrance at any minute. With a frustrated groan, he frantically peered around the room when a thought occurred to him: his abilities! With a small grin at his stupidity, he closed his eyes and focused on beckoning the key to him. Suddenly, he felt a warm presence and opened his eyes. The key hovered next to his outstretched hand, and he simply grabbed it.