“Order! Please, ladies and gentlemen, settle down!” the king announced, raising his hands consolingly. “I know this is a volatile, controversial issue that could change the course of our great kingdom. But shouting at one another isn’t going to solve this amicably. Now, please, sit down and let’s deal with this professionally.”
The group slowly settled into their seats again and looked expectantly at their king. Jeremiah surveyed the group, checking for signs of dissention. Seeing none, he looked at the man who had sat silently through the verbal scuffle, the man who was truly behind the formation of the legislation.
“Delegate Force, you may sit. I have the floor,” the king said without looking at George. “Delegate Grant?”
Slowly, the man stood, straightening his tie and jacket. “Yes, sire?”
“As this is your legislation, I think I’d rather address my concerns and questions to you if you don’t mind.”
The man’s hand hesitated on his tie marginally before he responded evenly, “I don’t know what you mean, sire. Clearly, Delegate Force is the speaker and therefore the driving force behind this proposal.”
“No, George is a fall guy, a whipping boy. You are the driving force, Delegate Grant.”
The man’s eyes narrowed on the king, and his face twisted resentfully. “Sire, with all due respect, you know the use of telepathy during these sessions is forbidden. I don’t appreciate…”
“I haven’t engaged my telepathy, Lucas. Please don’t make the mistake of assuming that without my telepathy I’m a bumbling oaf. One doesn’t need telepathy to see the nonverbal exchanges between you and George,” the king stated gruffly. His eyes moved to red-faced George, who was sitting very still with his eyes cast downwards. The king looked back to Lucas Grant and raised his brow as he nodded in affirmation toward the large man.
Lucas glared blatantly at Jeremiah for several long seconds before prompting confidently, “Sire?”
“I’d like to hear the answer to Governor Bracus’s question, Delegate Grant. Who controls this task force?”
Grant shifted slightly under the king’s penetrating stare. “The task force is an entity unto themselves. Therefore, they would govern and control themselves.”
The king nodded pensively. “All right, that leads to the governor’s second question. What recourse do the citizens of Warwood have if this task force goes rogue?”
“They will not go rogue, your highness. They will be hand-selected and trustworthy,” Grant told him.
The king’s brows rose at this. “Hand-selected? By whom? A delegation you and your lobbyists create? No, Delegate Grant. This will not happen. The citizens of Warwood have the control they need over the throne. This legislation smells suspiciously like an oligarchy. I will not allow this legislation to pass. It will never become a law.”
Lucas Grant swelled in anger. “Sire! You boast to all who will listen that you’ve given power to your people, yet in the end, the power is ultimately yours and yours alone. The people of Warwood have no real power! The power of the people is an illusion, sire! You’ve misled your people! You’re lying to us, King Wells.”
“Now, wait a damn minute!” Governor Bracus shouted, jumping to his feet.
King Wells held up his hand and silenced the governor before turning back to Lucas. “I hear your frustration, Delegate Grant, but your presence here, presenting a proposal for a Code in the Laws of Warwood, contradicts your statement that the people have no power. How many codes and policies has this group presented and passed during my reign as king?”
Lucas Grant grew flustered and didn’t respond, but Governor Bracus obliged. “Countless, sire. If your father was sitting there in your stead, Delegate Grant would be in the cell awaiting execution for blatantly questioning his king. I support King Wells’ denial of this legislation. It sets up an opportunity for a coup. Not to mention, it’s illegal for any citizen to obtain powers from the King’s Key. After all, it is the key of the kings and therefore to be used only by kings.”
The majority of the group murmured and nodded their assent. Again, King Wells held up his hand to silence the group as he regarded Delegate Grant. “I’m sorry, Lucas, but I hereby veto this proposal. It is my ultimate right to do so. I am the King of Warwood, and you’d do well to remember that. As long as I draw breath, Warwood will remain as it always has been—a monarchy.”
Lucas Grant’s head dropped marginally with submission. Jeremiah looked to the rest of the group.
“This meeting is now adjourned. Have a good afternoon,” Jeremiah announced as he waved for Xavier to stand and follow him out of the room.
Father and son said nothing as they strode down the commons and into the king’s office. With a frustrated sigh, Jeremiah paced behind his desk, rubbing his neck.
“Dad?”
The king held up a single finger before pressing a button on his intercom system. “Alexandria? Please contact General Hardcastle and General Jefferson and tell them to report to my office immediately.”
Sighing loudly, the king sank into his chair and looked at his son. Giving him a small smile, he intoned, “Well, you just witnessed a not-so-subtle attempt to overthrow the king.”
Xavier’s eyes bulged. “What? Why didn’t you arrest him?”
“He did it legally. I gave the delegates the right to question and challenge me,” his father shrugged.
Xavier frowned. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”
Jeremiah shook his head as he answered, “No, son. It had little to do with your influx. There’s a facet of people who wish to control the crown completely. The insurgency of your powers was only an excuse to attempt what they’ve been itching to do all along—overthrow me as their king.”
Chapter 11
An hour later, Xavier stood in the middle of the rugby pitch dressed in full combat gear with three royal guards standing across from him dressed similarly. Glancing into the stands, he saw his friends with what looked like popcorn and sodas.
“Glad I could be entertainment for them,” Xavier muttered dryly.
But he couldn’t stop the smile when he heard Garrett’s voice call clearly from the stands, “Let’s go, X. Kick some royal guard butt!” Then the other boys joined in with a chant, “X, X, he’s our prince, watch out guard, he’ll make you wince.”
Xavier rolled his eyes at the rhyme and began preparing himself for the fight. His father had found three volunteers for his training. Xavier hadn’t been happy to have new fighting opponents, but his father had insisted.
“Xavier, you need experience with a variety of fighting styles from a variety of soldiers,” his father had told him.
Xavier understood his father’s reasoning, heck, he even agreed with it to some extent, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. So, here he stood in the middle of the coliseum facing three unknown men. To say he was nervous was an understatement. First, he had never fought three men at once before. Two yes, but not three. Secondly, he was given no information about the men’s abilities. He wasn’t sure what to prepare for, which his father had insisted was the point. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves so he could focus, Xavier unsheathed his sword and prepared.
“All right, men,” Jeremiah’s voice called out from the side of the field. “Anything goes, and remember, you won’t be doing the prince any favors by going easy on him. General Hardcastle, General Jefferson, Lieutenant Davies and I will be on hand for injuries and maintaining blocks so that we can avoid serious injury. When you’re ready, you may begin.”
Xavier flipped his mask down to protect his face and stood ready.
The first attack happened immediately. The man on his left conjured and lazily launched an electro force at him. Xavier almost laughed at it, but instead of blocking it, he drew up a deflection shield and sent the force barreling back at the man. The man dove to the side as his own power whizzed inches over his head. The group of boys in the stands cheered and hooted. The man in the middle decided on a more direc
t, hands-on approach and charged Xavier with his sword raised. The boy smirked as the man drew within striking distance and swung his sword wildly. Did he really think Xavier would just stand there, unmoving in terror, and let him strike him down? Laughing, Xavier sidestepped the frontal assault and swung his sword as the man stumbled past, catching the man’s underbelly with the blade of his sword. If the guard hadn’t been wearing protective gear, he would have been cut down. Xavier’s fans cheered loudly and began chanting his name.
“Lewis! You’re out! That was a kill strike!” Loren shouted, disgusted that the soldier had attacked so carelessly.
The remaining man had watched both his comrades get bested by a boy. It was obvious the boy was well trained after months of seclusion where he was taught to control his raging abilities for hours each day by General Hardcastle, General Jefferson, and King Wells. He wasn’t a fool. He knew if they were to have a chance at defeating the boy, they would have to work together. He gave his remaining companion a hand signal as he slowly approached Xavier. Then he stopped a good fifteen feet from the prince and conjured a strong gust of wind that knocked the boy off his feet, sending him somersaulting backwards.
Xavier tried to grab the turf to slow the tumbling, but the gusts were too strong and simply ripped him from his hold. As the somersaults gained momentum, his body slammed hard into the turf, dislodging his sword from his hand. He was helpless! There was nothing he could do but hope the guard’s empowerment would fizzle out or weaken. Finally, the power evaporated and released him. Xavier staggered to his feet, dizzy, disoriented, and vulnerable.
He felt the attack before he saw it. The second man was feet from him, his sword raised, poised to attack. With no sword to parry the attack, Xavier had only one course of defense—his abilities. Xavier dropped to his knees just as the sword whizzed past, inches from his head. Then, taking advantage of the man’s extended, unstable stance, the prince punched him in the kidneys. The guard’s body arched and he grunted loudly. Before the man could turn, Xavier jutted out his hand and sent him flying forty feet across the rugby pitch. Jeremiah slowed the man’s fall and landed him gently on the ground.
“Jackson, you’re out,” Loren shouted.
Xavier thrust his hand out at his sword lying a good fifteen meters away, and the sword flew into his hand. He spun quickly and parried a strike from the remaining guard. Their swords clanged loudly and the jarring sensation that ran up Xavier’s arm informed him that his opponent was quite strong. Groaning against the locked swords as the guard tried to outmuscle him, Xavier spun and swung his elbow up, striking the man in the neck. The guard staggered backwards, wheezing and coughing. In his vulnerable state, the man did nothing to prevent the kill strike of Xavier’s sword.
Still gasping, the guard dropped his sword and held up his hands in surrender.
Xavier lowered his sword and stepped toward the choking man. “I can fix that,” he told him and placed his hand gently on the guard’s neck. “Hold still.”
A bright white light flooded from his hand and engulfed the man’s neck, face and chest. When it faded seconds later, the man stood and took a deep cleansing breath.
“Thank you, sire,” he whispered, rubbing his neck.
“I’m sorry I did that,” Xavier responded, but the royal guard was shaking his head.
“Don’t be. You did what you should have done. I left myself open for that,” he told the boy.
“Well done, son!” Jeremiah announced with pride as he ruffled Xavier’s hair.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Oh, man! That was awesome!” Garrett whooped as he and the other boys raced over to him.
Xavier grinned and shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”
Loren burst into laughter. “Damn if that doesn’t remind me of someone who will remain nameless, Sire Wells.”
Jeremiah laughed lightly. “And here I was thinking it sounded a lot like you, and I was contemplating ceasing all contact you have with my son.”
The group’s laughter was cut short by Sir Blaire racing onto the rugby pitch, clearly alarmed.
“King Wells! Sire! Please, come quickly!” he called urgently from the east entrance of the coliseum. “There’s a problem at the lake!”
The group sprinted to follow Sir Blaire from the coliseum, across the field, and into the woods.
“What is it, Jack?” Jeremiah questioned as he walked beside the anima-lingua professor.
“I don’t know exactly, sire, but a great deal of fish in the lake are dead. I have men testing the water for disease, but it’s devastating.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Xavier and his friends were just here Saturday night,” Jeremiah commented before turning to the prince. “Son, you didn’t notice anything strange with the fish, did you?”
“No, sir. The lake, the water, the fish all seemed fine!” Xavier told him.
When they stepped into the clearing and Xavier got his first look at the lake, his jaw dropped. The surface of the lake was blanketed with floating fish corpses and a strong smell of dead fish clung to the air.
“Crikey! What happened to them?” Court gasped.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine, laddie,” Sir Blaire remarked.
“Sire?” one of the men called to the king from the water’s edge.
The king moved toward the man. “Did you find something?”
“Well, it’s not contaminated water per se, but it appears that the fish suffocated, sire.”
“Suffocated? Is that possible?” Xavier asked, sidling up next to his father.
“Prince Wells, fish need the oxygen in the water to breath. Now, in cool temperatures like we have this time of the year, there’s usually plenty of oxygen in the water. Fish move more slowly in cold temperatures, you see and therefore they need less oxygen. But the water has unnaturally low levels of oxygen for its temperature, and it seems that the fish became highly agitated for some reason, requiring more oxygen,” the man stated before looking back at the king. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the water had been flash-heated to temperatures in excess of ninety degrees.”
Suddenly, Xavier’s knees felt weak. He had done this! He had killed the fish by heating the lake so the girls would swim Saturday. He swallowed past the dread balling up in his throat.
“Ah, Dad,” Xavier whispered. “I… Can I talk to you a second?”
“I’m sorry, son, I can’t. Why don’t you go on home and get cleaned up? I’ll be home…” the king’s voice faded when he saw the boy’s expression. Without another word, the king took the boy’s arm and led him to the edge of the woods away from the others.
“What is it, son?” he asked, studying Xavier with concern.
“Um,” Xavier stammered, his eyes filling with tears. “I… I didn’t know that it would hurt anything. I swear to you I didn’t. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known.”
“Xavier, what did you do?” his father demanded gently.
“I… I heated the water in the lake so the girls would go swimming with us,” he admitted quietly.
The king closed his eyes in exasperation, the muscle in his jaw flexing. After a moment, he opened his eyes and sighed. “Thank you for telling me the truth and being forthcoming with this information, son. You know that I must tell Sir Blaire and his men this.”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled, ducking his head guiltily.
“Come on, son. Let’s do what we can to fix this,” Jeremiah said, patting his shoulder and leading him back to the group. “Gentlemen, you can relax. I know the cause. Xavier has informed me that the water temperatures were indeed elevated while he and his friends swam here Saturday.”
“They were elevated? How?” Sir Blaire questioned.
“I did it, sir. I didn’t know it would hurt anything,” Xavier blurted. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known.”
Sir Blaire glared at the prince. “Prince Wells, ignorance doesn’t bring back the supply of fish we depend on selling at market to help
fund supplies for the school!”
“I know, sir,” Xavier mumbled as his shoulders and head sank lower with shame.
“Jack, Xavier and I will restock the lake with fish, and I will cover any losses the school has to its funding while the fish develop and mature. I’m assuming the money obtained helps care for the animals on campus?”
Sir Blaire nodded. “Yes, sire. I like to keep a variety of animals for the students to choose from and to become familiar with during their studies.”
The king nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Send me any bills for the animals. Plus, Xavier will stay with you to lend a hand in your clean-up efforts,” the king told Sir Blaire before looking at Xavier and adding, “Without powers.”
“Without powers?” Xavier gasped. “But, Dad, I told you it was an accident! I didn’t mean to do it intentionally!”
The king nodded. “Yes, son, I know that, but maybe helping with the clean-up the old-fashioned way will help you use the head on your shoulders before showing off or altering nature from its natural state again.”
Xavier sighed heavily and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Finally he muttered, “Yes, sir.”
“Send him home when you’re through with him,” the king told Jack Blaire with a wink.
“Thank you, sire,” Sir Blaire breathed out, shaking Jeremiah’s hand. “I appreciate it.”
With a nod, King Wells waved at his son and left the lake with Loren, Ephraim and Xavier’s friends following darting sympathetic looks in his direction.
The work was long, stinky, and gross. Xavier was given the task of cleaning the lake of the numerous corpses that polluted its waters, which meant that he had to swim out into the depths of the water to retrieve the floating dead fish. It wasn’t a pleasant job with the fish bobbing and bumping against his head. It would have been so much easier to use telekinesis to remove the fish. While Xavier and another man cleared the lake, Sir Blaire and a third man built a bonfire to burn them.
The Prince of Warwood and The War of Kings Page 11
