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

by J. Noel Clinton

  He nodded. Slowly, he opened the wooden case and lifted the small staff into his hands. Immeasurable power surged through his body, and he dropped to his knees with a gasp. He had never experience anything like it before. The key’s power was beyond imagining. Instinctively, he knew that the key held every power known to man in the most concentrated, purest form.

  “Now, concentrate,” the prophet whispered from behind him.

  Feeling light-headed, Jeremiah closed his eyes and concentrated on his son. He only wished to have the power to save him. He pictured the sick boy begging for death, and he couldn’t help but groan. He wanted to cure his son, to end his pain. Suddenly, the key grew cold in his hands, and he opened his eyes. Staring incredulously at the staff in his hands, Jeremiah stood and lowered the key back into its vessel.

  “So that’s it?” he questioned and turned.

  But, Abraham was gone.

  The king hurried out of the palace and started to jog across drive toward the infirmary, but he didn’t get far when Timmins Clarke, accompanied by half a dozen guards, confronted him.

  “King Wells,” Timmins called. “One of the guards in the security vault tripped the distress alarm. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Timmins. All is well,” Jeremiah told him.

  “Well, sire, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see that for myself. Smith, Williams, go and check it out,” Timmins ordered, and two young guards entered the palace.

  “Well, if you’ll all excuse me, I was heading to the hospital to visit my son,” Jeremiah declared, stepping around them, but Timmins moved into his path.

  “Sire, if you’ll just wait a moment, my men should be back momentarily and we’ll escort you over,” he replied stiffly.

  “That’s not necessary, I really need…”

  “Sire, please stay where you are,” Timmins warned.

  Jeremiah’s temper flared. “Timmins, if you don’t remove yourself from my path, you’ll be written up for insubordination!” he growled.

  “Lieutenant! Lieutenant!” The two guards had returned. “The men in the vault were attacked! They… say the k…king did it!”

  “Seize him!” Timmins yelled, pointing at Jeremiah, but they didn’t get the chance. Jeremiah twisted away and pelted several electro forces at the men. One force hit the lieutenant with such intensity that it sent him airborne for several yards. This gave Jeremiah enough time to escape. He sprinted toward the hospital with four guards lagging behind him.

  When he arrived at the hospital, Xavier’s room was buzzing with activity, and a high-pitched tone from the EKG sent Jeremiah’s heart to the floor. He was too late. His son was dead!

  “Clear!” a healer yelled as he used an electro force in attempts to revive the motionless boy. It didn’t work.

  “Get out,” Jeremiah growled.

  The healers turned, stunned. “But, sire…”

  “I SAID, GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Jeremiah roared with an electro force spinning menacingly in his palm. The healers bolted from the room, and Jeremiah locked the door behind them.

  The squeal from the EKG sliced into him as he looked down at Xavier’s lifeless body. With a sob, Jeremiah fell to his knees next to the bed and buried his face in the boy’s chest.

  “No,” he muttered feebly. “No, Xavier. You can’t die on me. I can’t lose you too!” Jeremiah lifted his head and looked at the soft, babyish face. “I won’t let you take the easy way out! I won’t!” he growled with determination, tearing the hospital gown away from the small body and placing his hands on his son’s chest. The force grew inside him like a soothing, warm breeze, and slowly, the boy’s entire body began to glow in a brilliant golden light. When the light finally faded, Jeremiah opened his eyes and looked down at his son. He still wasn’t breathing and his lips were a horrific shade of blue.

  “Come on, son, breathe. Breathe! I know you can hear me. Now, breathe!” he growled as he sent an electro force surging through the boy’s body. The child’s body fluttered like a rag doll from the electric shock, but he still wasn’t breathing.

  “Breath, damn it!” he yelled, sending another electrical shock through Xavier, but still he didn’t stir.

  Sobbing, he prayed, “Please, Julia! Help me out here. Help me, my love. Please, send him back to me.” Jeremiah stood and sent a more powerful electrical force through his small body.

  Finally, with a small groan, Xavier took a raspy breath and coughed. “Dad?” he muttered and began bawling.

  “Oh, thank God! I’m here!” Jeremiah gasped, pulling the boy into his arms. “Sweet Jesus, I thought I had lost you.”

  “Dad, I saw Mom.” Xavier cried into his shoulder. “She looked beautiful, like she did on the beach when I was a baby.” He began crying harder. “I wanted to stay with her, but she wouldn’t let me. She said…she said that my place was with you…that you needed me more.”

  Father and son held each other as if their lives depended on it until the insistent pounding at the door demanded their attention. Jeremiah slowly lowered the boy back into the bed and tucked the covers around him. He gave Xavier a doleful look and smiled. “I guess I’d better let the healers back in to check you out.”

  “Why are they locked out?”

  Jeremiah didn’t answer as he opened the door. Several guardsmen flew into the room, knocking the king across the room, tackling him, and pinning him to the floor.

  “This is not necessary!” Ephraim shouted, crowding into the room. “Get off him! He’s still your king, for God’s sake!”

  “What’s going on? Stop it!” Xavier yelled, feebly raising his hand and trying to muster up an electro force. But he couldn’t. Spencer was at his side in an instant.

  “No, Xavier,” he whispered, grabbing the boy’s hands and gently lowering them. “It’s okay. Ephraim and Loren will deal with it.”

  “Back off!” Loren shouted, throwing one of the men off Jeremiah.

  “Get off him now, or I’ll have all four of you on charges of unnecessary force!” Ephraim bellowed.

  The men finally stood, and Loren helped Jeremiah to his feet.

  “The king just assaulted me and six of my men, General. He must be taken into custody! If you don’t do it, I’ll file obstruction of justice charges on you!” Timmins Clarke challenged, clutching his profusely deranged arm.

  “How dare you! This is treason!” Loren yelled at him. “He’s your king. His son was at death’s door! You can’t just arrest him like a common thug!”

  There was a sudden uproar as the group of men began yelling and shoving one another. Spencer held Xavier protectively, watching the exchange.

  “Silence!” Jeremiah yelled, stilling the men. “Ephraim, Loren, Timmins is right. I’ve committed a crime. You need to take me into custody, Ephraim.”

  Ephraim shook his head unwillingly.

  “It’s okay, mate. Do it.”

  With a sigh of trepidation, Ephraim approached his king. Then after a reassuring nod from Jeremiah, he recited shakily, “King Wells, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to representation, you have the right to face and answer the charges made against you in a court of law. Do you understand your rights?”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah answered.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” Xavier asked hoarsely, tears still fresh on his face.

  Jeremiah looked at him and smiled. “It’s okay, son. Everything’s going to be okay.” He looked back at the two generals. “I need someone to look after my boy.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jer. I’ll watch out for him. Sir Blaire can cover my duties at the academy,” Spencer announced, surprising everyone. “Look, Jer, you need Loren and Ephraim to investigate the culprit behind these illnesses. You know they’re of better use to you in ways other than looking after Xavier. Please, let me do this.”

  Jeremiah stared at his brother as if seeing him for the first time and nodded. “Thanks, Mike,” he replied quietly. “I should have known I could trust you to help when I nee
ded it.”

  “You can always trust me, brother,” he whispered.

  Chapter 19

  Arrested

  King Wells was taken into custody and placed in a holding cell on the judicial floor of the Governing Hall where he would remain until his trial. He was charged with the illegal use of the King’s Key and the unprovoked use of force on subordinates.

  Xavier was released from the hospital the next day into Michael Spencer’s guardianship. He was extremely weak and was unable to walk or even stand. The seizures had put an unbelievable amount of stress on his body. It shattered nearly every bone and shredded many of his major muscle groups. His bones and muscles were still in the process of fusing back together.

  “You may take him home, Michael. Physical therapists will be by sometime next week. Hopefully, the king will be home then,” the supervising healer said.

  “Yes, I have every confidence that he will be. So, is there anything I should make sure he does until the therapists come?” he asked.

  “No, he needs to remain in bed for the next couple days until the rejuvenation power completes its cycle. He’ll be quite lethargic during this process, and that’s to be expected,” the healer told him.

  Mike nodded. “Ok. I’ll see to it he gets the rest he needs. Thank you, Healer Dorne.”

  Spencer took Xavier home and settled him in bed with a night table full of snacks, comic books, and a hand-held Game Boy.

  “Have you got everything you need?” he asked.

  Xavier nodded solemnly before whispering, “I want to see my dad.”

  “I know you do. Maybe in a few days when you’re stronger, okay?” he reassured him softly, stroking the boy’s hair. “But for now, you need to get some rest so that your body can replenish itself.”

  Xavier nodded as tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

  “Xavier,” Spencer whispered, patting his leg. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. Your dad will be home soon.”

  Again, the boy nodded, wiping the tears from his face.

  Over the next few days, his uncle spent a lot of time in his room talking and playing with the boy to keep his mind from fretting over his father’s fate. Finally, to Spencer’s relief, reinforcements arrived a couple of days after Xavier’s return home.

  “Oi! All right there, mate?” Court questioned loudly, barging into Xavier’s room followed by Erica and a very calm Robbie.

  “Court! Robbie! Erica! God, it’s good to see you guys. I’ve been bored out of mind!” He exhaled with relief. “How are the guys?”

  “They’re fine, X. They know it was just the fever talking; so it’s all brilliant,” Court replied, plopping onto the bed next to him.

  “What are you talking about?” Xavier asked.

  “What do you mean, what am I talking about? Xavier, you…”

  “Court, Erica, Robbie, Could I speak to the three of you for a moment?” Spencer called from the doorway.

  “Yes, sir,” Court answered, still looking at his friend as if he were a stranger.

  They followed Spencer out of the room and down to the end of the hall, where he turned to face them. “Court, Xavier doesn’t remember a thing about that day at school. The fever wiped it from his memory.”

  “Blimey, he doesn’t know?” Court blurted.

  “No, he doesn’t,” he responded, looking at Robbie in particular. “And he shouldn’t know, not just yet. Don’t you think he has enough to deal with right now?”

  This news came as an enormous relief to Robbie. It would be easier being there for Xavier without all the baggage of what had happened weighing down on her. So she put the events of that day behind her and laughed as Erica teased Court about getting caught after sneaking out in the middle of the night.

  “It was embarrassing!” Court complained loudly! “Drew ratted me out, of course! So, Dad comes tearing into the woods and drags me home in front of everybody! I’m blubbering like a git trying to explain to Dad that we were just celebrating Xavier not dying. Of course, Beck was laughing his butt off at me! Now, I’m grounded for life!”

  Erica rolled her eyes at his melodramatic response.

  “No, really! Those were his exact words!” Court insisted, and he made a face as he tried to imitate his father’s demeanor and tone, “Courtney Aaron, how thick can you get? With all that’s going on, you sneak out to play with your mates? You are grounded for life, and if you even think of arguing with me, I’ll beat your arse and then ground you into the afterlife as well!” Court shook his head as he continued, “The only reason I’m allowed to be here is because Dad thinks it would be good for Xavier, but then, it’s back to solitary confinement. God! Drew is such a prat! I swear! I don’t see how we’re even related! But I have a plan to get even with him.”

  “Court, you’ll only make things worse! You always do! Then Uncle Ephraim will do more than ground you and take your Game Boy away,” Robbie warned.

  “I’m not afraid of my dad,” Court rebuked.

  Erica coughed out laughing, and Robbie rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not!” he insisted.

  “Oh come on, Court! You are too! You were scared speechless when he threatened to smack you for sassing your mom,” Robbie teased. “And what about the time he caught you stealing those flatulent pills at Patterson’s Prank and Games Shop? You nearly wetted your pants!” Robbie giggled, falling back into the bed.

  Court shrugged, blushing.

  “What were you planning to do with the flatulent pills anyway?” Erica asked.

  He grinned. “I was going to put them in Drew’s orange juice at breakfast before school.”

  Erica erupted in laughter and joined Robbie, rolling on the bed in hysteria.

  “What do they do?” Xavier asked.

  He gave him a wide, rueful smile. “They give whoever takes them a bad case of gas.”

  Xavier laughed at his answer.

  The children kept the young prince company most of the afternoon. Even though he was still very weak and couldn’t sit up in bed without help, it didn’t stop the children from enjoying themselves and just hanging out. Though their visit was uplifting and pleasant, it left Xavier exhausted as well, and not long after his friends left, he quickly collapsed into a deep sleep.

  He slept for nearly three hours when something stirred him awake. His eyes snapped open. Slowly he skimmed the room, but it was empty. Still propped up in a seated position, Xavier picked up a comic book just as the door quietly opened. He looked up expecting Uncle Mike, but instead he stared straight into the disdainful, leering face of Catherine Stokes.

  “What are you doing here? Get out!” he demanded, sounding stronger than he was.

  “Your uncle let me in. I told him I’d keep an eye on you while he attended a meeting with Loren and Ephraim in the Hardcastle residence. Since I’m Daddy’s girlfriend, he didn’t even hesitate.” She smiled mockingly down at him.

  “I don’t want you here! Get out!” he spat hoarsely.

  “Now, now. No need to get upset. Why don’t I help you take a bath,” she cooed wickedly as she crossed his room toward the bathroom. “It will make you feel better and less irritable.”

  “You’re not helping me with anything!” he blared, but Catherine wasn’t listening. Xavier listened to her humming as she started the bath water before returning to the room.

  “The bath will be ready in a couple of minutes, deary,” she sang. Then with a wicked smile, she asked, “Why don’t you undress and I’ll help you to the tub?”

  “Forget it! The only way you can help me is by dropping dead!” he shouted.

  “Your Highness, come on now, it’s just a bath. Don’t be so rude!” she chastised. “Come on now, undress.”

  Xavier didn’t move.

  Catherine giggled like a little girl, an evil little girl. “Oh, dear! I forgot. After that little virus I set loose, you don’t have the strength to swat a fly let alone undress yourself. You poor baby,” she taunted.

&nbs
p; “What! Y…you did this? You infected all those kids? YOU killed Maggie!” he yelled.

  She grinned heartlessly, “Yes, but it was you I needed to kill all along, Your Highness. You are the problem. So, how about that bath?” She scooped him from his bed and carried him to the bathroom.

  “NO! Put me down. You won’t get away with it! I’ll tell!” he screamed, hitting at her feebly.

  She chuckled. “Oh, but young prince, I will get away with it. You see, dead boys can’t talk. I will tearfully tell your uncle how I had checked on you earlier and you said something about a bath,” she teased lightly as she sat him on the commode. Then, she demonstrated her response to his death and cried theatrically, “Oh, Michael! I didn’t think he’d try to bathe by himself in his weakened state. I feel so guilty for not keeping a closer eye on him. Boohoohoo!” Then she cackled.

  Horridly, Xavier could do nothing as the witch tugged off his shirt.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” he cried.

  “What do you think, you silly boy? No one will believe you drowned taking a bath if you’re fully clothed. Now, will they?” she asked impatiently.

  With heat licking at his cheeks, Xavier could do nothing as Catherine removed his clothes, lifted him, and turned toward the full tub.

  “Stop!” he bellowed. “Help! Help! Someone help!”

  “Now, now, that’s enough. There’s no one that can hear you,” Catherine chastised as she lowered him into the tub. “Destiny or not, your future is no more, Your Highness,” she hissed. Without another word, she pushed him under the water.

  She was right. He didn’t even have the strength to remain upright on his own let alone fight against her. Even so, he still fought, kicked, and struggled against her arms, but it was no use. The only thing he could see was her distorted sneering face through the water. Her refracted image made her appear even more evil and suddenly Xavier felt very afraid.

  Sharp pains stabbed into his chest as his lungs begged for air. His vision was quickly going black, and just as he was about to pass out, Catherine’s evil snarl disappeared and a pair of large hands lifted him. Coughing and spurting, he looked up into his father’s eyes.