The Prince of Warwood
and
The Rise of the Chosen
J. Noel Clinton
Copyright© 2014 by J. Noel Clinton
All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
ISBN
Paperback: 0-9773115-4-6
E-book/kindle: 0-9773115-6-2
LCCN: 2014917210
The Prince of Warwood
and
The Rise of the Chosen
J. Noel Clinton
Chapter 1: The Dark King Lives
Chapter 2: Rebuilding Warwood
Chapter 3: Family and Friends
Chapter 4: A Kingly Mistake
Chapter 5: Midnight Visit
Chapter 6: Trials
Chapter 7: Prince Daniel
Chapter 8: Celebration
Chapter 9: Moving Heaven and Earth
Chapter 10: Ephraim’s Temper
Chapter 11: Dating
Chapter 12: Punishment
Chapter 13: Little Boy Prince
Chapter 14: Dealing with Daddy
Chapter 15: Powerful Headache
Chapter 16: Found
Chapter 17: Bullied
Chapter 18: Special Treatment
Chapter 19: Food Fight
Chapter 20: The Fort
Chapter 21: Invisibility
Chapter 22: Fountain of Youth
Chapter 23: Jackass (The Donkey)
Chapter 24: Out of Control
Chapter 25: The Fall-out
Chapter 26: Capturing the Prince
Chapter 27: Quarantine
Chapter 28: First Training Lesson
Chapter 29: A Focal Point
Chapter 30: Love Triangle
Chapter 31: First Success
Chapter 32: Test
Chapter 33: Rise of the Chosen
Chapter 1: The Dark King Lives
‘I’m a murderer!’ The thought hammered into Xavier’s head. Sighing, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes willing for sleep to come, but it remained elusive. He couldn’t shake the dark thought already seeded in his brain. He was a murderer! He’d killed not one but two men. Alas, William LeMasters had been an evil, horrible man, and he had wished him dead numerous times, but if truth were told, he hadn’t really meant to kill him. He’d only meant to drain him of his powers so that he would no longer be a threat, but he hadn’t been adequately prepared for the power of the King’s Key. This small, gold staff was possibly the most potent object on Earth, encasing every power known and many unknown in the empowered world. It not only had the ability to empower individuals with additional powers; it also had the ability to abolish powers, sometimes with deadly consequences. The prophet had failed to mention that to him. But then, the prophet had failed to mention a lot of things!
Although LeMasters’ death hadn’t been intentional, the death of his father’s long trusted assistant was another matter. Milton Bailey had been brutally tortured and morbidly maimed by LeMasters. The excruciating pain as he was dismembered alive chopped away his resolve, and he feared that he would betray his king by renouncing him. He begged for Xavier to end his life so he could die with honor knowing he’d stayed true to King Wells. In the end, Xavier had killed Milton, not William LeMasters. He had murdered an innocent man!
Xavier rolled onto his stomach, buried his face in his pillow, and tried to swallow past the painful knot growing in his throat. Guilt and despair ran rampant inside him. The more he fought to hold back the feelings the harder they pounded in his thoughts. He whimpered into his pillow as tears erupted in torrents. But, crying didn’t help. It only left him miserable and congested. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he pushed his feelings down, deep down and wiped his face on his pillow.
With a sigh, he thought back to all that had happened over the past year. It had been nearly a year since he had learned the truth about himself, his father, and the strangeness in his life. From that moment on, his life had become a strange and deadly whirlwind. He longed for a normal, simpler life, but he simply wasn’t a normal boy. He was special. It wasn’t his unusual white hair that made him special. It wasn’t that he possessed powers that common people could only dream of. It wasn’t that he would someday be king of a kingdom full of empowered people just like him. No, what really made him special was that he was the Chosen. Although few knew this, Xavier Wells was the future of all mankind. He was responsible for defeating the Dark King and saving the world from years of oppression and cruelty that his rule would bring. This is what made him special, and he would trade everything he had: all his riches, all his powers, all his abilities, if he could just be normal. He didn’t ask for any of this! He didn’t want anything to do with it! It was because of this destiny, this impending conflict that the people closest to Xavier had died: his mother, Dublin Minnows, Maggie Applegate, and Milton.
Accidental or not, at least the man responsible for their deaths was dead. William LeMasters had made Xavier’s life miserable. He had kidnapped him and held him captive at a facility called the Institute, which imprisoned, brainwashed, and tortured empowered children until they yielded to his command. Then, he brutally assaulted and murdered his mother and beheaded his girlfriend’s father. He had been an evil man who spread terror wherever he went, but none of that mattered now. He was dead, and Xavier was glad. Many believed that with William LeMasters gone, there would be no Dark King to rise up to dominate the world. But Xavier knew the truth. Nothing had been avoided or prevented. Nothing had changed. The Dark King would still rise, and he would rise with an all-consuming fury the likes of which the world had yet to see! He would extract his revenge and devour those who stood against him, inflicting pain and agony on those they cherished most. He would want to even the score. Nothing had been avoided by William LeMasters’ death. If anything, it had ensured the inevitability of war.
Of course, no one knew that William wasn’t the Dark King. He never was. He had been molding and grooming his son, Fox, for that role. All the harsh words, the abuse, the confrontations he put his son through had been carefully designed and orchestrated so that Fox would become the man he was prophesied to become: The Dark King. It had worked. The look in the older boy’s eyes following William’s death mirrored the dark coldness that had always been present in his father’s eyes. In the end, William LeMasters had beaten Xavier in that cell. His death had made the war between the Dark and the Light irreversible. Fox LeMasters would rise to power and seek revenge and global domination over all mankind.
He had to tell his father. The kingdom had to prepare.
“Son?” his father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts with a start, and he bolted upright in bed.
Shadowed from the light pouring in from the hall, the king’s face was unreadable, but Xavier knew from the lingering coolness in his body that his father had been listening to his thoughts. Only royal heirs had the ability to penetrate the minds of others, and the king was a very powerful telepath. Although Xavier had the ability to detect a breach in his thoughts, he still lacked the ability to refuse or guard himself against such infiltrations. He felt a wave of irritation, first toward his father and then toward himself for not remaining alert to the warning signs. He groaned inwardly.
“God, Dad! Stop invading my thoughts! It’s not right! I don’t do it to you!” he hissed grumpily.
The king didn’t respond to his son’s grievances as he moved into the room and stopped next to the bed.
The hallway light played hauntingly across his features, casting half his face in a soft, warm glow. Finally he whispered with quiet authority, “It seems that it’s necessary. This information should not have been kept from me.”
“I wasn’t keeping…”
The slight movement of his father’s hand stopped his denials short, and he expelled a long breath of defeat.
“All right, maybe I was keeping it from you, but I was going to tell you. I just… I guess I wanted to believe, just for a few days, that everyone was right. The battle with the Dark King was avoided. I didn’t want to have to think about Fox and what it all would mean, what it would mean about you.”
His father sat heavily on the edge of the bed. After a moment of silence, he spoke softly. “I know all of this, your new life, your role, your destiny, has been overwhelmingly difficult for you. But you must stay the course and focus on your training. If we are to be victorious over the Dark Army, we must continue the training we began at the mountain, and our people must be warned.”
“Yes, sir. I know.” Xavier paused taking a deep breath.
“There’s something you wish to ask?” Jeremiah asked.
Of course his father knew there was more. He shook off the chill still lingering in his bones and looked up at the familiar shadowed figure sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Well, I was wondering, what happened to the Key after I — after LeMasters died?”
“It was found clutched in your hand. We had a hard time prying it from you,” the king remarked.
“Where is it now?”
“Loren has it well hidden and protected,” he answered, patting the boy’s shoulder.
Xavier nodded thoughtfully, expelling another long breath. The Key was safe. “But, what about my…I mean, the sword? Did you find it?”
His father shook his head. “No, the sword was never found. If I were a betting man, I’d say Fox took it.”
“Fox took it? But why would he want the sword? He has his own, and it’s not like I couldn’t get more swords...”
“Xavier, that sword glows whenever you are near it! Think, son! Why would he not want it?”
“Oh,” he muttered, feeling stupid.
Both father and son sat for some time, drifting into their own thoughts and fears. Finally, his father patted his leg and stood. “Try to get some rest. You still have a lot of healing to do.”
He nodded and watched the king cross the room and pause at the door. “Goodnight, son.”
“Night, Dad.”
Chapter 2: Rebuilding Warwood
Warwood was still in shambles, and normal kingdom life had been suspended until essential repairs were completed. Since Xavier couldn’t physically lift and move things due to his injured hand, his father had assigned him to one of his most trusted friends, General Loren Hardcastle, who was organizing telekinetic citizens. Today, their task was to clear out the rubble and assist masons and construction workers in rebuilding the gatehouse, which had been demolished during the initial onslaught of LeMasters’ invasion.
Rebuilding the gatehouse would be a simple task and Xavier was looking forward to doing something constructive, regardless of how tedious or boring it might become. Although his powers could be intense at times, he felt confident that he had a secure command over them and could summon them without difficulty. He didn’t like to brag, but there were few kids in the kingdom who could rival his empowerment level and strength.
However, there was one power that still proved challenging for Xavier: that of impediment. He struggled to block telepathic advances, especially when faced with a strong, capable telepath. His confrontation with William LeMasters only punctuated this deficiency. Although he had made gains in impediment and could, at times, hoodwink Uncle Mike, his father was a different matter altogether. The king was the most powerful telepath alive. For this reason, when the new school term began, Uncle Mike would no longer be teaching him telepathy; his father would. He wasn’t sure if he was happy about this change in professors or not.
When they arrived at the gatehouse, Loren began dividing up the telekinetics with specific jobs. Xavier was assigned to Loren’s group, and he was sure this wasn’t by accident. No doubt the general had been told to keep an eye on him. Loren led him and half dozen others to the rubble that once was the magnificent entrance to the kingdom. Their task was to raise massive stones into place while masons quickly secured them with mortar. In no time, the gatehouse was taking shape and before noon they had the structure half built.
“It’s boring work,” Loren remarked as if reading Xavier’s mind. “But, there are so few telekinetics, and we are the only means the kingdom has to lift and move heavy objects.”
He nodded in response as his mind began to wander. He looked at the group of telekinetics sorting through the rubble finding stones that could be reused. When a usable stone was found, it would be tossed into a growing pile twenty feet to Xavier’s right. The first few times a stone crashed to the ground next to him, he had jumped, but the men’s unparalleled accuracy quickly eased his nerves and the clattering and cracking of falling rock became trivial background rhythms of the work. Still, he couldn’t help but marvel at the inherent skill and accuracy the men possessed.
“Hey! Am I flying solo on this job?” Loren teased, nudging him with his elbow.
“Oh, ah, yeah… I mean no. Sorry,” he mumbled.
He watched as the general settled another stone on top of the structure before turning his attention to a stone weighing close to 500 pounds. He lifted the stone into the air, but before he could place it on the gatehouse, a fiery sensation snaked from the pit of his stomach and shot into his outstretched hand. His body shook visibly with effort as the stone suddenly felt like it weighed, well, 500 pounds. Then a chill rushed through his body as the telekinetic energy drained from him. No longer in his power, the massive rock began to plummet. He desperately tried to recapture the stone with telekinesis, but he couldn’t engage the ability, and the stone continued falling to where Harry’s dad worked.
“Look out!” he screamed at Mr. Sims.
Simultaneously, a hot draft grazed Xavier’s cheek as Loren’s telekinetic force whisked by him and caught the boulder less than a foot above Mr. Sims, who hadn’t even had time to cower. Slowly, he lifted the boulder into place before looking down at Xavier.
“Let’s take a break,” he declared quietly, clamping a hand on his shoulder and leading him toward Center Square, where several vendor booths had been set up for food and drinks. Without a word, he grabbed two bottles of water and handed one to Xavier. Then he moved to a large aspen and lounged in its shade. Patting the earth next to him, he beckoned, “Come on, kid. Take a load off.”
Xavier settled next to the general and watched as he drank half the bottle in two swallows. He took a sip of his own water, but it did little to clear the lump embedded in his throat.
“Sorry about that. I guess… I was... wasn’t paying close enough attention. Maybe I’m still kind of tired and not quite a hundred percent yet,” he rasped.
“Is that what happened?” Loren asked, looking at him thoughtfully. “Well, I guess it’s possible. You haven’t been out of the hospital very long, and we’ve been working on the gate house for nearly three hours.” He studied the boy next to him.
Xavier tensed. The general’s intense stare nearly made him forget that he wasn’t telepathic.
Finally, he smiled. “What do you say we take a lunch break? Maybe a rest and some food will reenergize you. You stay put, and I’ll get us a couple of sandwiches.”
“Okay,” he muttered, slumping against the tree trunk as Loren stood and ambled toward the long table of sandwiches, fruit, and tidbits in Center Square.
His mind reeled over what happened. Why had his power quit on him like that? Concentrating intensely at a small twig a few inches from him, Xavier attempted to reconnect with his power, but nothing happened. Trying not to panic, he closed his eyes and tried the relaxation techniques Unc
le Mike had taught him when he got frustrated with his impediment exercises. After a moment of breathing evenly and “listening” to his biorhythms, he slowly opened his eyes and glared determinedly at the twig. Purposefully, he stretched out his hand and the twig flew twenty feet into the air. Relief flooded through him and he leaned back against the trunk once again.
By day’s end, the gatehouse was fully rebuilt and the group cheered in triumph and pride.
“Well, done, young sire,” Loren called jovially, draping an arm around his shoulders.
“Thanks. And thanks for catching that stone. I thought for a moment that it was going to crush Mr. Sims,” he muttered ruefully.
“Anytime! Besides, I’m used to covering for you Wells boys,” the general teased.
“Hey!” he laughed, punching the man in the gut.
Loren doubled over and feinted injury. “Lord! Is that how you repay your gratitude?” he gasped melodramatically. As Xavier started toward him again, he chuckled and effortlessly held the boy at arm’s length. “It seems that all the Wells boys have short tempers, too.”
Xavier laughed. “Yeah, but I’d say Dad’s is the worst.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I’ve known your father and uncle all my life. It’s true. Your father always had the hotter head but only barely. Speaking of which, we better head back to the palace and see how the brothers are getting along with the trials.”
“The trials? What trials?” he questioned.
“Well, not necessarily trials today. They were working on the charges against LeMasters’ men who surrendered: mostly preliminary stuff, organizing the crimes by severity, separating the children’s crimes from the men’s crimes, that sort of thing. Your dad wants you to be present when the trials begin,” Loren concluded, looking sideways at the boy. “I guess he thinks it would be educational in being a king.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess he would,” he muttered.
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