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

by J. Noel Clinton

  “Fox! Stop playing around and finish him!” Dr. Angelo shouted.

  Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the entire building shook.

  “William, Veronica, we need to go! The Royal Guard is inside…” Danson yelled, rushing through the door, but his words choked at the sight of his dead brother. A resounding concussion shook the building and jerked Danson back into action. “We must leave. Now! King Wells is coming this way!”

  Fox lowered his sword and after one last vengeful glare at Xavier, he turned and followed his mother and uncle out of the cell.

  Xavier collapsed.

  Chapter 30

  Reconstruction

  When Xavier awoke, he was greeted by bright sunlight pouring through a window in what appeared to be a hospital room. His entire body felt like one giant bruise, but at least he could breathe without pain. He examined his wounds and found pale pink scars had replaced the open wounds. His left hand was wrapped in an ace bandage, and his thumb had been reattached.

  “How do you feel?” a voice called softly.

  His head whipped toward the door and found his father leaning on the doorframe. “Dad!” he gasped as relief and despair flooded over him.

  Jeremiah was at his side in an instant, pulling him gently into his arms. The movement twinged a bit, but the warmth and safety he felt in his father’s embrace soothed him in every way: physically, mentally, and emotionally. He wrapped his arms around his father and held on tightly, never wanting to let go.

  “Xavier, dear God, don’t ever do that to me again,” his father mumbled, his voice faltering. “God, boy! When I found you in that cell, covered in blood, and d…dead still…” He couldn’t continue.

  After a moment, father and son separated, and Xavier suddenly found that he couldn’t look at his father. He had failed! He had come to Warwood to prevent the war between the dark and the light, but he had only managed to ensure its inevitability. He had seen Fox grow from a timid kid reluctantly following his father’s commands into the beginnings of the evil, dark king who could someday destroy the world. However, he couldn’t tell his father this…at least, not yet.

  “Son? Are you okay?” Jeremiah asked, lifting Xavier’s chin so he had no choice but to meet his intense gray eyes.

  “N…no!” Xavier cried, hugging him. “I’m not okay. Dad, I…I killed Milton. He’s dead because of me!”

  “Xavier, Milton’s death was not your fault!” he reassured him.

  “Yes, it was, Dad!” Xavier insisted, pulling away from his father and meeting his gaze with watery, fierce eyes. “It was! William tortured him because I wouldn’t do what he wanted!”

  “Xavier…”

  “No, Dad, listen to me! He butchered Milton alive! He chopped him up! Milton was afraid he’d betray you! He…he begged me to…he…he asked me…I…I killed him! I stopped his heart and killed him!”

  Jeremiah looked down at him, shocked. Finally, he pulled the boy close and kissed him. “Oh, God. Oh, son, I’m so, so sorry you were put in that position…that you had to do that. But, Xavier…what you did was extremely brave! Milton was dying and there was no way you could have prevented that. Stopping his agony and suffering took enormous courage. It was the right thing to do, son.”

  Crying, Xavier spluttered out between sobs, “He…he wanted me to tell you…that…he…he was proud of you. He…he wanted…me to tell you…that …you are a better king…than your dad ever was.”

  His father’s face crumpled at these words, and his eyes filled with tears. “He said that?” he whispered.

  Xavier nodded. “Yeah, he said he always thought of you as a son and he was proud of how you turned out.”

  Jeremiah was speechless. He simply held his son tightly and cried.

  Xavier slept a lot the next few days, nearly missing a visit from Lana. His father was sprawled out on a lounge chair next to the bed watching a news program on TV when the door opened. Lana entered with a wide smile, carrying a small present and balloons. As her eyes trailed from the sleeping boy to the man next to him, her smile wavered.

  Jeremiah jumped to his feet at the sight of her. “Lana?”

  Her name pulled Xavier from his light slumber, but he remained motionless and listened.

  “Thanks for coming…”

  “I didn’t come for you! I came to see Xavier!” Lana hissed coldly.

  “I understand,” Jeremiah muttered. “I don’t blame you for hating me…but you can see now why I did what I did.”

  Xavier opened his eyes and looked at Lana. She stood rigidly at the foot of his bed, glaring contemptuously at his father.

  “Is that your idea of an apology, sire?” she spat. When the king didn’t answer, she set the package on the bedside cart with a huff and added, “Tell Xavier I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”

  Then, she stormed from the room, leaving a befuddled, speechless king.

  It was several days before Xavier was able to leave the infirmary. His wounds were all nearly healed, but his ribs were still tender and the healers said it would be weeks before he regained the use of his thumb. When he finally left the hospital, he was amazed at how different Warwood looked in just two weeks.

  “The palace…the kingdom looks almost as good as new!” Xavier muttered as they exited the infirmary.

  “Well, the palace grounds are in order, but the residential area isn’t. Much of Wellington is still in shambles actually. We’re still getting our citizens back from King’s Mountain, and once we have a larger number of telekentic citizens, we’ll be able to get everything back to normal more quickly,” Jeremiah explained, taking his hand and leading him across the horseshoe-shaped drive and flowering gardens. The sacrificing altar was gone.

  “How…how did the flowers grow here so quickly? It was nothing more than a mud pit before.”

  Jeremiah snickered. “Son, we are an empowered society. Our gardeners have the ability to accelerate the growth cycle of plants.”

  He nodded and examined his bandaged left hand. He couldn’t move his thumb more than a wiggle, and it felt a bit numb.

  “How’s the thumb?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Numb,” Xavier replied, dropping his hand to his side again. “Dad? What happened to the child-soldiers at the academy?”

  “Well, many of them fled the kingdom when the Royal Guard invaded. However, about twenty or thirty remained behind.”

  “What’s going to happen to them?” he asked.

  “Well, son, that’s a difficult question. Some of those children killed members of my guard during the invasion. They must be punished,” his father responded solemnly.

  “But, Dad, they were forced to! They were prisoners themselves! If they didn’t follow orders, they were beaten or worse! It’s not their fault!” he pleaded.

  “Xavier, I know this may sound harsh, but no one can be forced into doing anything. Ultimately it’s a decision. Sometimes it’s a very difficult decision, but it’s still a decision,” he noted evenly.

  Xavier’s shoulders slumped. “So, what will happen to them?”

  “That will be decided on an individual basis. We will hold trials for each child. Their crime, if any, will be determined and then, I will determine the appropriate punishment,” he answered.

  “When do the trials start?”

  “Next week,” his father answered.

  Xavier nodded as they entered the palace and continued in silence down the long corridor and up the grand staircase. Ephraim was on duty outside the entrance to the royal residence and grinned at the sight of him.

  “Hello, Xavier! You look a lot better than you did a couple of weeks ago. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Better, sir. Where’s Court? I haven’t seen him since we regained Warwood,” Xavier asked.

  “Well, he’s been very busy running errands and transporting goods from supply areas to areas still being rebuilt. Until the kingdom is rebuilt, I’m afraid no one will have much free time. But I’ll try to get him to stop by and say he
llo in the next day or two,” Ephraim told him.

  He nodded, trying not to feel disappointed.

  “Come on, son. Mrs. Sommers is anxious to dote over you. Let’s get inside and settle in for the evening,” his father ordered gently, placing a hand on his shoulder and directing him into the residence.

  As soon as the door opened and Xavier stepped over the threshold, a loud collection of voices yelled, “Happy Birthday!”

  He froze on the spot and looked around at the sea of smiling faces, the balloons and streamers, and the long banner sprawled across the windows that read, “Happy 13th birthday, Xavier!”

  “I know it’s a bit late, son, but you were still unconscious on your birthday,” his father commented after seeing the stunned look on the boy’s face.

  Xavier looked up at him. “It’s not that…I…just…I forgot all about my birthday!”

  The king laughed and clapped him on the back.

  “Xavier!” Robbie called, fighting through the crowd to reach him.

  “Robbie!” He gasped, hurrying to meet her.

  “Oh, Xavier!” she cried out again, throwing her arms around him and kissing him fully on the lips.

  Xavier savored the kiss, even though the people around them were beginning to snicker. Finally, she pulled away, tears running down her cheeks.

  “Why, Xavier? Why did you run away? Why did you leave without telling me? You could’ve been killed…you were nearly killed…you…you…jerk!” she cried.

  “I’m sorry, Rob. I’m really sorry…I just thought…I didn’t want anyone else to die because of me. I wanted to end it. I thought I could end it all. I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  “But, X! You did end it! William LeMasters is dead!” Beck told him with an enormous grin.

  He hesitated, and his eyes darted to his father, who was watching him closely. Finally, he grinned and answered lightly, “Yeah. I guess so.”

  There was a loud cheer to this news, and Xavier found himself being knocked around by congratulatory pats and thumps.

  It was probably the best birthday he had ever had. His father had gone all out! There was an enormous seven-tiered cake, a small pile of presents, music, dancing, and pizza! It had been months since Xavier had a pizza. It was heavenly! The majority of his presents replaced his damaged and missing toys and games. He received a new game system, a laptop, radio-controlled car, a new stereo, and all kinds of rugby equipment including a new leather ball from Garrett and a Wales jersey from Courtney.

  “Xavier?” Robbie whispered. “I…I’d like to give you my gift in private.”

  “In private, eh? You’re a lucky man, Xavier!” Mac snickered.

  The rest of the boys began chirping, “Robbie and Xavier sitting in a tree, K. I. S. S. I. N. G…”

  “Oh, really!” she hissed at the boys, blushing deeply at the attention she and Xavier were getting from the adults around them. “You guys are such idiots!”

  The boys burst out laughing as Robbie grabbed Xavier by the arm and pulled him through the mass of people toward the library. The boys’ catcalls and hoots were finally muffled when she pulled him into the library and closed the door behind them.

  “I…I didn’t want you opening it in front of everybody. It’s kind of personal…and a bit embarrassing…oh, here! Just open it!” she rambled as she thrust a small package at him.

  Xavier peeled away the paper and opened the small cardboard box. He lifted a Celtic medallion, about the size of a half dollar, by its leather-braided cord from the box. On one side of the gold medallion a tree branched out in every direction, and at the base of the tree was a ruby carved into the shape of an apple. Encircling the image were the words, “Tugaim mo chroi’ duit go deo.” Then, on the opposite side, there was a pentacle entangled with a Celtic love knot.

  “Wow! It’s fantastic, Robbie! Where did you get it?” he whispered.

  Her blush deepened. “It’s been in my family for years and years.”

  “Really? Well, are you sure you want to give it to me? Shouldn’t you keep it and give it to your kids someday?” he asked.

  “I’m very sure, Xavier. Please accept it. It will protect you and bring you luck,” she told him.

  “What do the words around the edge of the coin mean?” he asked.

  Again, Robbie’s face deepened in color. “Ah, it says, ‘I give my heart to you, forever’.”

  Xavier stared at her as he realized exactly what she was giving him. Finally, he straightened, and pulled the necklace over his head. “Thanks, Robbie. It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” he whispered and kissed her.

  At that moment, his father opened the library door.

  “All right, you two, that’s enough of that. It’s time to get back to the party. People are starting to ask where the guest of honor went off to,” he told them with a chuckle.

  “Yes, sir,” Xavier responded with a broad grin.

  He led Robbie back to the party where most of the guests had ventured into the ballroom to dance. As they joined the rest of the guests, Xavier tried desperately to forget that he hadn’t avoided anything in killing William LeMasters. The Dark King would still rise. He would rise and seek vengeance. He hadn’t stopped the War of Kings. His father would still sacrifice his life to save him. He would still die, and for the life of him, Xavier didn’t know how to stop it.