The Prince of Warwood and The War of Kings

by Clinton, J. Noel

  Xavier bolted upright in bed, shivering and panting. Sighing miserably, he fell back into the bed and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It had been a dream, only a dream. He tried to reassure himself, but he knew that whatever it had been, it hadn’t been just a dream. It had felt too real. With a shuddering moan, Xavier wiped the tears from his cheeks. He had witnessed a premonition. He had experienced enough of them in the past to know the difference. He had seen his father’s death! His father would die; he would die soon.

  The next morning came too soon in Xavier’s opinion, and his father was shaking him awake.

  “Up you get, sleepyhead,” he chuckled.

  Xavier moaned disgruntledly and rolled away from his father.

  “Now, come on, son. We’re heading home. I thought you were looking forward to seeing a certain brunette with large brown eyes,” Jeremiah teased.

  Xavier lifted his head and squinted up at his father.

  “I am,” he began hoarsely. “I just didn’t sleep too well.”

  “Ah, too wound up to sleep, eh?” his father concluded.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he muttered, sitting up and yawning.

  “Well, you better get a move on. We leave in twenty minutes,” the king chirped, patting the boy’s head before leaving the room.

  Nearly twenty minutes later, the king, General Hardcastle, Henrick, and Xavier exited King’s Mountain and stood on the summit. Miles and miles of wilderness could be seen in every direction. Xavier shivered and snuggled deeper into his coat.

  “All right. We will teleport to the airfield where the jet is waiting to fly us back to Warwood,” his father announced. “Xavier, you’ll need to pair up with me since I’m familiar with the landing area.”

  “Why don’t we just teleport back to Warwood, Dad? Why even bother with a plane?” Xavier questioned.

  “Teleporting can be very dangerous, young sire,” Ephraim answered.

  “Dangerous? How can it be dangerous? I mean, the worst that can happen is I’d accidently teleport to the wrong place. Big whoop!” Xavier scoffed.

  “Xavier!” his father warned. “Do not dismiss General Hardcastle’s warning!”

  Xavier’s cockiness deflated, and he muttered, “Sorry, Mr. Hardcastle.”

  “It’s understandable to think that teleportation is benign and not dangerous, but you’d think wrong,” Ephraim responded.

  “I don’t understand, though. How is it dangerous?”

  “Son, what’s the greatest distance you’ve ever teleported?” his father asked.

  Xavier blinked. “Ah, I don’t know. I guess a couple of miles. I teleported from the academy to Center Square once.”

  Jeremiah’s brows rose. “You did? When did you do that?”

  Xavier shuffled his feet. “Ah, just before I accidently started a food fight at Warwood Café,” he answered bashfully.

  Henrick snickered. “Yeah, I remember that, and so does my forehead,” he interjected, pointing at the faint, thin scar on his brow.

  “Yeah, ah… sorry about that, Henrick,” Xavier muttered, cringing.

  “Son, if you teleport into an area you’re not familiar with or an area that is constantly changing, like Center Square, you could teleport into something or someone.”

  Xavier snickered at the thought. “What would happen if I teleported into Loren? Would I end up with his nose or something? Man, that would suck,” he joked.

  “No, son, you and Loren could be severely injured or killed. However, it’s more likely that you’d receive more devastating injuries since your body mass is quite a bit less than Loren’s. Son, teleporting into other people, or worse yet, into solid objects is what makes teleporting so dangerous. People have killed themselves doing it. Think back to your first experience with teleporting. Do you remember it?”

  Xavier thought back to over a year ago when he had accidently teleported into his father’s Latin class. He had run into his father and ended up with an enormous bruise down his left side as a result.

  “That was a painful experience, wasn’t it? You hadn’t teleported into me, but within inches of me, and it still caused you pain. Teleporting into someone or something else can rip the teleporter apart.”

  “Oh,” Xavier gasped. “I didn’t know that.”

  “But to answer your question, we can’t teleport to the kingdom because quite simply, we’re close to three thousand miles away from Warwood, and teleporting is extremely inaccurate and volatile at those distances. Most teleporters can’t teleport more than a few miles. We’ve had teleporters who tried to push their limits with disastrous results. One man ended up in the middle of the Atlantic when he tried to teleport himself to France for a holiday. The stress he put on his body was so great that he had a stroke and passed out. He drowned.”

  “Oh, wow! I… I didn’t realize,” Xavier responded.

  “Well, now you do, and that is why we don’t simply teleport back to Warwood. Once we’re within range, we could teleport to the palace. There are designated teleport areas throughout the kingdom were teleporters can safely use their power without fear of accidents. But I think we’ll simply drive through the kingdom to announce your return.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Jeremiah inhaled deeply. “Now, are you ready to go home?” The king held out his arms invitingly with a wink.

  “I don’t know. Now, I’m scared to teleport,” Xavier commented with a dry snicker as he stepped into his father’s arms.

  The moment the king’s arms wrapped around him, he felt the tugging and pulling sensation of teleportation, and he closed his eyes to the sensations. Seconds later, he stood in a large open field with a small leer jet warming up a hundred meters from them. As Jeremiah led him to the jet, a soft pop behind them announced Henrick and Ephraim’s arrival.

  Once on board, Xavier sank into a leather-covered chair and buckled his seat belt while his father went into the cockpit, settled into the pilot’s seat, pulled on a head set, and began flipping switches.

  “Dad knows how to fly a plane?” Xavier questioned as Ephraim settled into a seat across the aisle from him.

  Ephraim smiled. “Oh, yes. He’s been a pilot for years.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that. That’s so cool! Do you think he’d teach me to fly?”

  “From what I hear, your highness, he doesn’t need to,” Henrick interrupted with a wink.

  Once the plane was in the air, Xavier reclined his chair and watched his father with fascination as he operated the plane with competence and ease. Between the hum of the engines and the light vibrations of a smooth flight, Xavier’s eyes soon grew heavy, and he dropped off to sleep. In what seemed like seconds, his father was shaking him awake.

  “We’re home, son.”

  Xavier peered out the window and saw a limo waiting with Loren and Robbie standing next to it. Xavier grinned and tried to jump to his feet, but he was still buckled in. He hastily unfastened the belt’s clasp, raced to the door of the plane, jumped down the steps to the ground, and raced to Robbie. His first thought as he hugged her was that she smelled really good.

  Robbie giggled against his shoulder. “Did you miss me? You realize it’s only been a week since I visited?”

  Xavier pulled away and looked down at her smiling. “Yeah, I know, but before that I hadn’t seen you, hugged you, or kissed you for months,” he responded, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her.

  “Well, don’t hold back on my account, sire. Kiss away,” Loren teased from beside them.

  Xavier blinked up at the large man. “Loren? When did you get here?” he teased.

  “Ah, thank you so much, young sire. After all I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get? I’m completely forgotten when a pretty girl is within a mile of you. I’m nothing more than chopped liver to you!” Loren complained, doing his best to contrive a forlorn expression.

  “No, of course you’re not chopped liver, Loren,” he told the general with a wicked grin. “I can tolerate chopped liv
er!”

  “You little…” Loren spat and lunged at Xavier, but the boy was quick on his feet and jumped out of his reach, raising his hands defensively.

  “Whoa, Loren. You don’t want me to turn you into a human popsicle again, do ya?”

  “Son, stop harassing my general,” Jeremiah ordered before adding with a wink, “He’s very delicate after all.”

  “Delicate! Jeremy, should I describe the time I kicked your butt in front of most of the kingdom? Then we can decide which one of us is the delicate one!” Loren retorted.

  “That was nearly twenty years ago! I wasn’t much older than Xavier, and if I remember correctly, you were nearly six feet tall and outweighed me by at least fifty pounds!”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Loren taunted as he opened the back door for the king, Xavier, Robbie and Ephraim.

  Shaking his head, Jeremiah slid into the limo, and Xavier clambered in after him. Robbie scooted into the seat next to Xavier, while Ephraim settled beside the king. The men began leafing through a large folder of papers. Henrick sat in the front passenger seat next to Loren.

  Xavier couldn’t help himself. He sat grinning like a fool, staring at Robbie and holding her hand. His father and Ephraim exchanged amused looks before returning to the papers on the king’s lap.

  “God, it’s so good to see you,” Xavier whispered feverishly. Then looking at the men to make sure they were occupied, he leaned toward her and added softly, “I really want to get you alone.”

  Robbie blushed and giggled. Then she settled for playful innocence. “Whatever for, your highness?”

  Xavier leaned in closer so that his lips were centimeters from her ear. “I’d like to kiss you.”

  Jeremiah suddenly cleared his throat loudly, and the sound made Xavier spring away from Robbie, blushing.

  “Control your telepathy, son. You’re broadcasting those thoughts again,” his father informed him through his thoughts.

  Xavier’s blush deepened while Robbie exchanged a curious look between father and son. Fifteen minutes later, the limo pulled slowly up to the grand entrance to Warwood. A large steel door squealed in protest as it swung down. The car slowly pulled through the gatehouse and onto the main roadway adjacent to the open market at Center Square. As the limo crept past the bustling market, the crowd suddenly stilled and watched. Two small children running happily around a vendor table were hastily ushered away from the vehicle by a plump woman. Several people scurried away from the limo as if it were a bomb. Xavier didn’t need his abilities to know that his people were afraid. They were afraid of him! He sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Robbie’s hand slipped into his and squeezed. His eyes swept to hers, and she gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back. It was hard to be forlorn about anything when she smiled. She was so beautiful. Minutes later, they pulled through the palace gates and continued the short distance to the palace. Xavier looked out the window at the building he called home. He reminisced to his first ride to the palace. He had been so nervous, excited, and in utter awe over the grand building with its stained-glass windows and gargoyle storm drains. He smiled at the memory. As fantastic as the palace was, now it seemed a bit smaller. But then, he wasn’t that same starry-eyed kid he had been nearly two years before. The limo rolled to a stop in front of the palace doors, Loren opened the door and the group piled out.

  “Welcome home, young sire,” Loren smiled as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

  Xavier laughed. “Thanks! It’s good to be home.”

  “Come on, son. Emma is dying to see you,” Jeremiah called, beckoning him.

  Xavier took Robbie’s hand and hurried forward. As he approached the door, he noticed two royal guards standing next to the entrance. His smile slipped as he drew closer, and one of the guards shuffled slightly away from him. Xavier stopped and studied the man. He recognized the guard. He had been one of the guards who had hoisted an unconscious king onto his shoulders and carried him to safety during the height of Xavier’s attack on the kingdom. The guard was young, no more than twenty-five. His entire body was tense, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

  “Hi,” Xavier whispered, releasing Robbie’s hand to move toward the young guard.

  The man stood about four inches taller than Xavier and had a wiry, slight frame. The guard was well trained and kept his eyes forward.

  “At ease,” Xavier glanced at the man’s badge, “Guard Pickens.”

  Pickens looked down at him briefly, but no other part of him seemed at ease at all. “Yes, sire?” he inquired, his voice a bit unsteady.

  Xavier held his hand out, and the young man stiffened more, if that was even possible, and looked down at the prince’s hand, puzzled.

  “Sire?” his eyes finally met Xavier’s and stayed.

  Xavier smiled at the man. “I wanted to shake the hand of the man who got my father to safety when I…” Xavier broke eye contact this time and ran his hand through his hair before looking back at the guard. “Look, I know what I did was horrible, and even though it was beyond my control to have stopped it, I promise you I will work my butt off to earn your trust and respect. I give you my solemn oath that I will never attack my people again.” Xavier sighed and nervously ran his hand through his hair again. “Anyway, thanks for saving my father’s life. I… I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been responsible for killing him.”

  The guard gave him a curt nod before returning to attention at his post.

  Recognizing his conversation with the guard was over, Xavier turned, took Robbie’s hand, and entered the palace.

  Robbie squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, Xavier. They’ll come around. You’re a great king, or at least, you will be. I know it!”

  Xavier stopped her halfway down the corridor that led to the royal residence and the residences for both General Hardcastle and General Jefferson. “Thanks, Robbie. I needed to hear that,” he whispered before kissing her. He felt a spike of sensations, and he hugged her closer.

  “Son? If we keep Emma waiting any longer, she will smack both of us. Now, release Robbie and get a move on,” his father’s voice announced, invading his thoughts.

  Xavier released Robbie abruptly and groaned.

  “What is it?” Robbie whispered breathlessly.

  Xavier smiled dryly down at her. “Dad,” he answered simply. “Come on before he has a stroke.” He took her hand and pulled her down the corridor and into the large open foyer. A grand ornate staircase stood in front of them. To the right was the entrance to the Jefferson residence, and the Hardcastle residence was on the left. Xavier led Robbie past the doors and up the wide staircase. Another guard stood at the summit of the stairs next to a large oak door that led into the royal residence—his home. His father stood on the platform peering down at the teens with smiling, knowing eyes.

  “We really need to work on controlling your telepathy when you’re in the company of Robbie, son. It’s quite disturbing to have your thoughts blaring into my head,” he said softly, and Xavier’s face ignited.

  Robbie looked between the king and Xavier opened-mouth. “He’s… transmitting his thoughts about me? How come I can’t hear it? What’s he saying about me?”

  Xavier’s blush grew; he could feel it creeping down his neck.

  Jeremiah smirked. “I think the last question is best answered by Xavier. As for why you can’t hear him, my guess would be either he’s just transmitting those thoughts only strong enough for telepaths to hear, or you’re not really listening to him. Could you be a bit preoccupied?” After seeing Robbie’s face become just as red as his son’s, the king turned to Ephraim. “Are you able to get anything from him?”

  “Only brief impressions, but yes, he’s broadcasting his thoughts well enough that I’m receiving some thoughts,” Ephraim answered.

  “Oh, great,” Xavier muttered, released Robbie’s hand, and moped up the remaining steps.

  Robbie followed, perplexed and curious. She would have to ask Xavier wha
t he had been thinking about later. Right now, she wanted to see his face when he entered the residence. She hurried up the steps and took his hand again, grinning. Xavier couldn’t help but grin back.

  Xavier opened the door to the residence as his father stepped aside to have a word with the guard on duty. As he stepped inside, a loud chorus of voices called out, “Welcome home!” Xavier froze in his tracks and stared, dumbfounded at the two dozen or so faces all grinning back at him. The guys were there, Beck’s flaming red hair standing out. Daniel was standing in front of Mike, hopping in place with excitement. Then all at once, the group converged on him, patting his back, hugging him, and welcoming him home.

  “Good to have you back. We can finally have a decent rugby match,” Mac blurted, thumping Xavier’s shoulder.

  “Xavier! Xavier!” Daniel chirped, twisting his way through the crowd of bodies, and then throwing himself at Xavier.

  “Hey, Daniel,” he responded, staggering backwards from the smaller boy’s weight.

  “Man, it’s so good to have you home, cousin.” Daniel exclaimed. “Dad wouldn’t let me visit you at the mountain. He was being such… a… a…”

  “Careful, Daniel,” Mike whispered. “You may want to think about how to finish that since I’m standing right behind you and in prime position to bust your little butt if I don’t like what I hear.” Mike’s relaxed posture and wicked gleam in his eye belied the reprimand.

  “Hey, Uncle Mike,” Xavier greeted, smiling.

  “Hey kiddo. Glad you survived months of isolation with my brother. I can’t begin to describe the pity I felt for you,” he responded conspiratorially, giving Xavier a brief hug.

  Xavier’s eyes widened. Michael Spencer made a joke. He was actually teasing the king!

  “Welcome home, sweetie,” Lana whispered, hugging him close and kissing his cheek. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Thanks, Lana. I missed you too.” Xavier responded quietly as he hugged her back. There was such warmth, such comfort in that hug. It filled him with calm and peace that only a mother’s love could do.

  Suddenly, there was another flood of bodies rushing at him, and Xavier was knocked flat on his back while he was playfully assaulted with wet-willies, noogies, and thumps.