another short

Alright, this week was so much more busy than I expected. I didn't get more than a page written in the Rebellious Spy. My apologies, but it happens. In it's place I present the other short I wrote for my creative writing class. Not going to lie, it's depressing, but I was practicing one character in one place. This is about emotions that whip through us and how often we make mistakes about the sitituation. I'm not going to ask you to enjoy this. Just read and ponder. What will you get out of this story?
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Casualties of War

Kevin woke up slowly; he noticed few things as he finally came around. He was laying on something hard, but not ground hard. A cot? And the air was cool. His thoughts felt thick in his head and slow to move. He tried to remember what had happen. A memory flashed behind his closed eyes. He was standing on a stone battlement, watching as an army threw themselves at the outer wall of the fort they were sent to defend.

“That’s right, I was fighting.” The enemy had climbed the wall with ladders; there had been too many of them to stop completely. The memory was broken as he remembered the fight begin. He could see dead men’s faces as he sliced through them with his ax. Then he saw another face, one important to him. His brother had fallen, his leg shot and blood was spraying from his thigh where the arrow jutted out. Kevin remembered as he fought his way to Jason’s side. Just as he had reached him, something hit him from behind and then blackness.

Finally, Kevin opened his eyes. He saw a ceiling above him, though the room seemed dimly lit. “Where am I?” Grimacing, he sat up cautiously and looked around the bare room. Except for his cot, the small room was deprived of anything else, even a chamber pot. There was, however, a door.

Kevin stared at the door. That was where the light was coming from; from the crack at the floor. It flickered, an even flicker of someone walking. There were people on the other side.

“Then why am I not hearing them?” Kevin frowned and slid his feet onto the cold stone floor. He supposed it was because of the blow to the head. He had heard old soldiers talk about ringing or deafness after such a hit.

Testing his legs as he stood, he found he could support his weight, though he did have to throw his arms out to balance himself. Once he was sure he would not fall, he went for the door. For some reason he could not explain, he was afraid of what could be behind that door. Telling himself he was being a fool he took the five steps to it, grasped the handle, and started to turn it.

It stopped.

Kevin froze as the chill went through his body, his mind racing. He tired again to turn the handle but it refused to move pass that one spot. “No,” he whispered, shameful tears streaming from his eyes He rattled the unmovable handle. “No.” Sobbing, he thudded his head on the door. He knew what a locked door meant. No ally would do this to him. He was a prisoner of war.

“Think!” he demanded of himself. “You’re still alive; they must want something from you.” It could be ransom. He was, after all, the second son of High Councilor Rod Koon, head advisor to the king. It had been a year since he last spoke with his father, but he was still important enough for a ransom. And unlike his older brother, he was easy to spot even in the heat of battle. He was the one with the orange hair.

“They must have Jason too,” Kevin realized. It was no secret the two brothers had joined the army together when war was declared against the invading nation and stayed by each other’s side. “That’s it. They’re holding us for ransom.” He couldn’t stand much longer with the nerves though. Shaking as if the cold had taken him, he returned to the cot and sat. He slouched and rubbed his face, resigning himself to wait. Sooner or later, they would come tell him of their plans for him.

The buzzing began in his ears. “At least I’ll be able to hear again.” It was a strange thought. He was being held against his will and he was glad he would hear again? Kevin almost smiled; he certainly had his priorities set strait.

After the buzzing faded, another noise replaced it: screaming. He couldn’t tell how many voices cried out in pain. He flinched at the sound of agony, wishing momentarily he had lost his hearing. He tried to ignore it; he almost succeeded until he heard a scream he recognized. A scream he usually heard in the heat of battle, not with that sound of pain.

“Jason,” he whispered, his eyes wide with shock. They were torturing him! His brother, a man more important than he was. He wanted to beat against the door, yell for his brother, but the sounds of Jason’s pain chained him to the spot with fear.

Then suddenly his brother’s screams stopped. There was silence for a minute until the screaming of other men began again. But Kevin couldn’t hear them, neither did he care. He sat there, stunned, one thought running over and over in his mind. “They killed him. THEY KILLED MY BROTHER!” He knew then, he would not be kept alive. They would kill him; they had no intentions of letting either of them live.

“I will not die at their hands like this!” Kevin popped the top button off of his coat and broke it open. His father had called it insurance when he gave it to his sons, in case they were ever caught. Kevin rolled the death pill between his fingers. His father did not want his sons to die in painful ways; this was a quick end. Jason had gotten rid of his, joking that he would never be caught. Kevin had pretended to follow his brother’s example, but he kept it. He didn’t want to die by torture. Steeling himself, he threw the white pill into his mouth and clamped his own jaw shut. He forced himself to swallow it. He felt it as it went down his throat. Breathing deeply, he waited for the end.

Kevin didn’t feel the seizure as it took him. He didn’t feel the floor as he threw himself from the cot. His head banged against the stone floor, a constant repeating of pain damaging his brain. His heartbeat doubled, sending fresh pain through his shuttering body. Kevin could vaguely hear a cry from the door. It had opened. He could not see the person who grabbed his head, trying to keep him still. Suddenly, he stopped, his eyes staring towards the final freedom.
************
Jason cradled the head of his dead brother, weeping over the body twisted by the seizure. The doctor who had admitted him into Kevin’s room stood by the door, watching the scene. He too was bent with sorrow.

“I am sorry,” the doctor said, finally walking to his side. He pried Jason from his brother’s body and helped him into a wheeled chair. Jason turned his head away from Kevin and the stump that was now his leg. He had blacked out when they had amputated his leg. He just regained consciousness and wished to see his brother.

“Now he’s dead.” Jason remembered the battle they had won. He had received the fatal wound in his leg when his brother came to protect him. Kevin had been hit across the head by an enemy, but the reinforcements came before they could be taken captive.

Jason remembered the conversation he had with the doctors before they took him into the operating room. They had advised putting Kevin into this room for him to recover from the blow. They had also locked the door so no one would accidentally stuff dead bodies and disregarded limbs in with him. Jason had agreed; the rooms were filling at a disturbingly fast rate.

“How?” he demanded of the doctor. He wanted to stand and tower over the man, but that advantage was lost to him. “How did he die? He was just fine when he was put in here.”

“My guess,” the doctor said, kneeling down and checking Kevin’s dead eyes, “is that the blow affected his head. It happens sometimes. A strong enough blow can make people have seizures. And sometimes, those seizures are the killing type. There was nothing we could have done.”

Jason gaze returned to his brother’s body, his orange hair sticking out like it always did. “You’re wrong,” he whispered to himself. There was something they could have done. Turning his chair from the doctor, Jason rolled himself out of the room.

There was only one thing he could do: take revenge. Jason wheeled himself down the hall; his tears had dried and his expression hardened. He would make the enemy bleed for their crimes. They would know his pain of his loss before he was done with them.
******
This is not a story to enjoy but to make you think. Tell me, what were your reaction to this short? I'm curious. Well, I will try to get more written in the Rebellious Spy, but no promises. Time to go enjoy the rest of Sunday.

Busy week

*******This has been cut out of the story. Read if you like or skip it*********


What a busy week it has been here at Trefoil Ranch. I can't really believe I got anything written. But now that training is over and things will become more routine with girls coming.
Review from last week: Martin discovers why Terk has taken over Fort Mesa and almost has a run-in with Tracker, the top spy of Venter. Now, let's consider how to get rid of the poison.
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Sona worried about Martin. The spy sat in the corner, a hand kept running through his hair with the other hand holding the vial. He had taken some of the blue powder out to experiment on, but he was never satisfied about the results. However, it wasn’t his lack of progress she worried about.

Most of the soldiers were gone to find lunch and she went over to sit next to him. He didn’t say a word but kept glaring at the poison.

“Martin?” she asked softly so no one else would hear. He briefly glanced at her then returned to his glaring. At least he acknowledged that she was there. “Is there anything I can do to help?” It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, but she would get to it when he felt talkative.

Martin sighed deeply, leaning back and thumping his head against the wall. “Not really. I’m trying to find a way to destroy this and it seems very resilient.”

“Why not find a way to neutralize it?”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’d have to test it out on everyone here until I get it right. I’m not going to force that on anyone. No. I’ve got to find a way to destroy it.”

Sona watched him for a moment, a bit surprised by his resolve. True, she never knew him to be as ruthless as Tracker, but she did know his determination to get the job done. It made her feel better to know he did have compassion for others.

That, however, did not shove her question from her mind. “Martin?” she said softly again. “What’s wrong?”

Surprise flickered across his face as he returned his attention to her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re distracted by something,” she pointed out. “You’re making little slips here and there in your character. I’m just assuming something is bothering you on a non professional level.”

“Non professional level, huh?” he repeated, laughing weakly. “I guess you can say that. There are a few heavy matters on my mind right now.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Martin paused, his expression unsure. “Not really.” He turned his head aside. “It’s not something I want to talk about.”

Sona was a bit confused by the pained look on his face until she remembered her conversation with him the day before. His file was kept locked up because details of his recovery were difficult to read. But since Terk took over the fort, the matter had left her mind. Now she wondered how any recovery was difficult.

This was a side of him she never expected to see. Martin the spy was a determined man, someone who never looked back. He was the type of person to take life in mid swing and go. But seeing him like this, to see that he did have ghosts in his past, brought him to a more human level. Sona wanted so much for him to tell her everything, that he would let her know of the pains he so carefully hid from everyone else.

“But,” she thought, sighing, “I still have no right to ask him for his trust.” For all he knew, she was just a research spy who wanted to pry into a past he rather not remember. He didn’t see a friend in her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Martin rubbing his right wrist again. He had done that when he was talking with Peter.

“Did you do something to your hand?” she asked. Martin jumped slightly, looking down at his hand.

“No,” he said, still looking at his hand, as if he was unsure it was really there. “Just…” He trailed off, sighing. Unconvinced of his answer, Sona took his hand and quickly looked it over. He tried to pull his hand away but she only yanked back.

“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” she told him before he could protest. His hand was normal, if a bit red from his rubbing it. Frowning, she let him yank his hand back. “Why are you rubbing it?”

“I’ve been handling poison,” he pointed out, gesturing at his pervious experiments before him. “It’s designed to cause pain. I’m surprised I only have a small pain in my wrist. Sona, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to concentrate.”

Sona sighed. Although she knew something was bothering him and she wanted to help him, he wanted the conversation over with. Perhaps she had almost touched on the subject of his locked files.

“Alright,” she said, standing up. “If you need me, just ask.” Martin glanced up at her, smiling slightly.

“I doubt I’ll need your help, but thanks for the offer.” Sona returned the smile before walking back to the book she had been reading. At least he knew she wanted to help. Perhaps he was finally realizing she could be a friend. All she needed to do now was wait for the right opportunity.
**********
Once he was sure Sona was back to reading her book, Martin looked at his wrist again. It still tingled, a faint memory of the slice that he never experienced.

“The visions were never like this,” he thought, slowly moving his fingers. The flashes never lasted long, never had been specific to one person’s thoughts, and never involved pain. They had always been harmless and unmeaningful. And as much as Martin wanted to deny it, the visions were another clue. He had seen into the mind of another Aeternan. Something only Santers were rumored to do.

“I can’t worry about this now,” he thought with a shake of his head. He picked the vial up, glaring at the contents and hate coursing through him. Terk was using Aeternans as test subjects. He had to get rid of this poison.

The problem was that this poison was very durable. He had hoped that it would dissolve in water and become harmless. Just touching the water he tested his theory on gave him a flash of one of his own painful memories. The results were the same with all the liquids he tired.

“At least I know it has to be inside the body for full effect,” he muttered darkly, glaring at the remaining poison he had to work with. His wrist began to tingle again. Martin put the vial down to rub the pain away. Leaning his head back, he looked around the room, hoping that something would give him a clue of what to do next.

His eyes finally settled on one of the flickering lamps. He had dismissed the idea earlier that the poison might be flammable because he found it in wooden boxes and straw. He had assumed those were precautions to keep the poison dry.

“But,” he reasoned, “Terk doesn’t know much about this poison either.” He shrugged. He might as well try. Pinching a bit of the poison, he stood and walked over to the closest lamp. He felt the fine powder beneath his fingers, hate seething within as the thought of what the effects of this poison was. No one should ever relive their worst memories. Snorting in distain, he flicked the small amount into the flame.

Poof!

The small flame flickered into a larger one and changed to a bright green color. As soon as it came, it was gone and the flame was returned to normal.

“Copper,” Martin muttered, checking the lamp for any of the poison. The green flame meant copper was in it.

“Alex?” Peter asked, who had returned with the rest of the soldiers with lunch. They stood in the door way, wide eyed as they stared at him. “What was that?”

Martin gave the insufferable captain his most mischievous grin. “I’ve found a way to destroy the poison.”
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Short post, I know, I know! But at least it's something! How is Sunday posts doing for everyone? Does anyone want me to wait to do posts until they're longer or are these short shots alright? Just curious. Well, I got to get back to my world as Nellie. Until later, enjoy the journey!

It's Tracker

*******This has been cut out of the story. Read if you like or skip it*********


Wow, what a busy but great week! I'm sorry that this isn't my Thursday edition, but I did warn everyone that posts will be a bit strange since I'm working at camp (limited internet and nearly fourteen hour days can do that). Instead of rambling on about how great camp is (because it is!), let's review from last week. Martin uses his strange dreams to try to figure out what Terk is doing there. Now, last time I foreshadowed the entrance of another character. Well, let's meet him now, shall we? Allow me to introduce Martin's equal in the spying world, Venter's Tracker!
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Again using the entrance of Hanna’s office, Martin checked for patrols before heading out. Going the same route he used in his dream, he first checked the supplies the Venter army brought with them. Outside was cool and damp with the false dawn already appearing in the eastern horizon. The Venter soldiers that were awake were slowly moving through their duties. Martin avoided them easily by hiding when he heard their noisy approach.

“Strange,” he thought, watching as another pair of guards passed his hiding spot. “They all seem relaxed.” Considering they had taken over an enemy fort, the soldiers acted as if they were at one of their own forts. Martin knew warfare. These soldiers should have been more tense and alert. This lack of nervousness made him nervous.

Martin shook his head. Nervous or not, he had to find out why Terk was there. He searched through the supplies, hoping something would stand out. It didn’t take him long to find the outstanding.

“There are too many boxes labeled as bandages.” Nearly a third of all the boxes he found were labeled as such. He waited for another patrol to pass before prying open one of the boxes. He stared at what was inside.

The box was full of straw and glass tubes. Picking one up, Martin considered the glass vial. It was only four inches long and was about as thick as one of his fingers. Unstopping the tube, he saw a light blue powder. Bringing it to his nose, he carefully whiffed. It didn’t have a scent.

“What is this?” he wondered, tapping a bit of the dust onto his finger. Rubbing the fine powder between his fingers, he considered what it could be. It wasn’t a common poison, nor was it any type of drug he knew about. He wasn’t about to taste it though. Terk had brought this stuff for a reason and he was sure the reason wouldn’t be good for Aeternans.

“NOOOOO!”

Martin whipped around, staring up at the main building. The scream came from one of the open ward windows. “NO!” the voice continued to sob. “Please STOP!” Sprinting, he rushed inside. Being careful of patrols, he made his way to the second level. He followed the screams to the same recovery ward he had visited in his dream. He shivered when the screams suddenly stopped. Opening the door just enough to see, the sight inside was nothing what he expected.

Two white robed men he didn’t know stood over the bed of the man moaning. The moaning man seemed to be asleep, judging by how he only tossed and turned under the covers. Martin could also tell the man asleep was a recovering Aeternan soldier; his right hand was missing.

“Well? How is it working?”

Martin shivered. He knew that voice. It was Terk. The Mad General came into his view at the foot of the bed. One of the white robed men leaned over the sleeping man, checking the Aeternan’s eye.

“It appears to be working,” he muttered, straitening. “According to your information, he should be in this state for another twelve hours.”

“Of course my information is correct,” said another voice. The breath froze in Martin's chest. Another voice he knew. The first he heard that voice was on his first mission. A man who spoke with a soft confidence, using a tone of knowing just how dangerous he was. There had only been three other occasions Martin had heard this same quiet voice. It was Tracker, the top spy in Venter.

“And be glad I was able to get the formula for that stuff.” The bitterness in Venter spy’s voice was thick. Terk glared behind him at Tracker. Martin didn’t dare open the door any farther to see his rival in the spying world.

“You have redeemed yourself, Tracker,” the Mad General snapped. “Now, forget about the young spying brat. He’s not going to bother you.”

“Talk about irony,” Martin thought, rolling his eyes. It was his job to bother them. His thoughts returned to the poison they were discussing. He had never gotten out of Suit what he had lost that night over three years before. The intense training had pushed the box and its mysterious contents out of his mind. Now he wished he had pushed more to know what it was.

He considered his next move, either returning to the hidden tunnel or continue listening in on this conversation. Then, it hit him.

The vision was of the soldier, fighting in a battle along side his fellow Aeternans. “I have to keep fighting,” he breathed as he thrust his sword into the belly of a man in a Venter uniform. “I promised to protect them!” The man thought about his aging father, his wheelchair bound sister, his young wife, and his newborn daughter. He fought for them, he fought for their freedom! He was brought back to the heat of battle when he realized his sword wouldn’t come out of the soldier he had just killed. Yanking hard, he tried to free his sword. Someone screamed before him. Looking up, he realized it was too late as another Venter soldier brought his sword down on him. He screamed as the blade took off his hand, separating him from his stuck sword. He fell back, cradling his bleeding stump. Through his tears, he watched horrified as the Venter soldier was about to kill him in the same way he killed the other soldier. Suddenly an arrow appeared in the enemy’s chest and he fell without another cry. The Aeternan soldier began to sob. How could he protect them now…?

Martin gasped as he was finally released from the vivid memory. Stumbling back, he had to bring his own hand up to assure himself it was still there. He felt the sword take his hand. He felt that man’s pain.

“What was that?” Terk asked from beyond the door.

“I’ll go check,” Tracker replied.

Martin snapped back to the present, aware of the danger he had just found himself in. Gritting his teeth, he ran for the closest stairs. He followed it up to the third story. Behind him, he could hear Tracker’s pursuit.

“Great,” he growled, thinking hard. Once again, he found himself being chased by Venter’s top spy. Last time ended when he had to jump out of a window to escape. And after what Luke and Thomas made him do to escape Fort Pinewood, Martin didn’t think he could handle jumping from another window.

“Think!” he demanded of himself, quickly looking at his surroundings. “I know this fort!” There weren’t many secret passages on this level of the fort, though. It was mostly recovery wards and storage units. He heard Tracker’s heavy march up the steps. Martin gritted his teeth; he had to hide now before the Venter spy came to the top and spotted him. Picking the closest door, he ducked inside and locked the door.

Taking deep calm breaths, he waited for the sound of Tracker’s boots on the stone floor. Then he heard him coming. Martin took a quiet step back from the door as the sound of heavy foot steps came to his door. He nearly stopped breathing as the handle rattled. The Venter spy pounded on the door.

“I know you’re in there,” Tracker announced, though not yelling. Martin shivered, remembering the first time he heard that soft tone. Though back then, he didn’t understand fully just why Tracker used that tone. Martin didn’t fear Terk; the general was a mad man with cold logic, and though he was unpredictable, people have been known to escape with their lives. Tracker was completely different.

In the spying world, Aeterna’s Alex and Venter’s Tracker were considered equals, though the Tracker tended to be more violent. Martin knew a bit about this current Tracker. This man was ruthless in getting the job done; the trail of blood that followed him was years long. And once the job was done, whoever was considered extra baggage was killed. No second thoughts, no hesitation, and no time to beg for life. Martin knew he had to escape.

He frantically looked around the empty ward he had locked himself in, ignoring Tracker as he began to slam against the door. He only had a few moments to escape. Martin took one look at the windows and dismissed the idea. Tracker would spot him.

“There!” Martin dashed to the laundry shoot. Each ward had one, all of them leading down to the wash rooms on the first floor. Pushing the shoot cover aside, he jumped feet first down.

Swoosh!

Martin tired to make himself as thin as possible as he slid down the dark enclosed space, holding his arms tight to his side. He gritted his teeth each time he hit the slick walls, trying hard not to cry out. His only hope of escape was if Tracker didn’t think he used this route out.

The ride quickly ended with a soft thud into a large bin of used bandages, soiled towels, and rumpled sheets. Martin leapt from the laundry pile, looking around the laundry room for a quick place to hide. He dashed for one of the linen closets and hid there. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he waited for any sign of Tracker’s pursuit.

He waited for a half hour before he finally felt relief. Tracker hadn’t followed him down. Briefly wondering what the Venter spy was doing, Martin slid out of the closet and made the slow way back to the hidden tunnel. They had to know what was happening. Anger built inside him as he went. Terk had no right to do this! These were defenseless people.

“You’ll pay, Terk,” he growled softly to himself. “I’ll make you pay.”
*********
“Poison!”

The Alex burst into the room, spitting the word out. By now all the other soldiers had woke up and began arguing about breakfast. Alex’s sudden arrival and the bitter declaration stunned them into silence.

“Poison?” Sona repeated, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“The reason Terk took over this place,” Alex growled, his frame shaking with hate, “was to test a new poison. He’s using our wounded soldiers as test subjects!”

“What?” half of the soldiers demanded to know as the other half began insulting Terk, breaking the stunned silence. Peter gritted his teeth. In this noise, they wouldn’t get any more information out of the Alex.

“Attention!” Peter ordered, surprising the soldiers into another silence. Snorting softly when he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he beckoned Alex forward.

“Poison,” he repeated. “What sort of poison?”

The Alex gritted his teeth. “I don’t honestly know. I’ve encountered it once before, but it wasn’t used on anyone.”

“Do you know anything about it?” Peter asked, standing taller. It made him feet more in control by towering over people. Though knowing that the Alex was perhaps one of the deadliest men in Aeterna did make him feel uneasy ordering him around.

“I can only guess what it does,” Alex muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “From what I saw and heard, the poison causes an enforced sleep and they’re stuck sleeping for twelve hours.”

“What’s wrong with sleeping?” Sona asked. She poured some water and gave it to her fellow spy. Alex downed the drink, nodding his thanks to her as he passed her back the cup.

“It’s not a normal sleep,” he said quietly, as if he was disturbed by it. “I think… I think it causes the victim pain while they sleep.”

“What kind of pain can you have when you sleep?” a soldier asked. Peter shot him an angry look and silenced him. But Alex heard the question.

“You’d be surprised by how much dreams can hurt,” he whispered. Peter stared at the Alex. What was that in his voice? There was pain, he could hear that, but there was something else. Alex began rubbing his right wrist. “The man they tested the poison on was moaning in his sleep, and he wasn’t lying still at all. He looked as if he was in pain.

“Anything else you know about this poison?” he asked. Alex shook his head. Peter couldn’t decide if the motion was an answer to his question or if the Alex was trying to shake the memories from his head.

“Not much more, no,” he answered, returning again to his determined demeanor. “But I did manage to flinch one vial of it.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a thin glass tube with something blue within. Peter took it, unsure what he should do with it.

“I want to see if there’s anything I can do to sabotage it,” Alex said, taking the vial back.

“You do that.” Peter wished the spy would at least pretend he was a private and waited for an order. However the rest of the soldiers weren’t paying attention; they were arguing about what they should do.

“Attention!” Peter bellowed again. Glaring at his captive audience, he used his full height to impress his commanding office. “Alex has agreed to find this poison’s weakness,” he told them. “If he asks for your help, then you are to do as he asks. In the meantime, we need to figure out how we’re getting breakfast.”

While the soldiers began debating the food, Alex wandered to an unused corner, sat on the floor, and began his work. Peter briefly wondered how the spy was going to find a weakness in a poison he knew little about. He shrugged. He was the Alex, he must have had training about it. Shoving the matter aside, he began organizing the breakfast raid.
**********
Amazing I got this written considering how busy life is here at camp. Well, got to post this before the internet drops on me again. Next week I'll try to get this up to you all sooner, but maybe it's Sunday from now on. So long!

Martin got slapped

*******This has been cut out of the story. Read if you like or skip it*********


Well, here it is. The next portion of the Rebellious Spy, fresh off the fingers of moi. I'm a bit nervous about showing fresh written stuff, but I'll meet the challenge!

Review: Martin was assigned to work for General Sanders, but the general quickly sends him to Fort Mesa where there's to be a meeting with the Mad General in a few days. Martin's task: find any traps. He gets to Mesa, finds out Sona is there... yada, yada, yada. Oh, and Terk has taken over the fort. Problem. How will they get out of this one?
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“Is it too late for me to back out?” Sona asked as they crept to the storage room the soldiers were being held. Martin glanced back at her. She had taken off his coat and was pulling her hair out of its loose bun. He had suggested she tried hitching up her skirt but he got slapped for it.

“What are the chances of me getting slapped again if I say no?”

She glared at him but did not reply. He checked the hall again where two Venter soldiers stood guard. They picked the right room to lock the fort’s guards in; no windows or other doors, and the lock needed an expert to pick it. Martin doubted any of the Mesa soldiers had the experience.

“I wish we had some sort of drug in the drink,” he heard her mutter as she picked up the tray of food and ale for the two men. “Sluggish men are easier to hit.”

“Sorry,” he muttered. Pulling her forward, he almost had to push her out. Shooting him another glare, she started for the guards. She greeted them with a fake smile. Considering she hated acting, she did it very well. The guards accepted the meal with smiles. Sona leaned against the wall and started up a conversation with them.

Martin crept into the hall while the Venter soldiers’ backs were turned. Before they could turn around, he sprinted to them and hit both on the back of the neck. He grabbed the keys as the men fell.

“Creeps.” Sona spat as he opened the door. “Can you believe the one with the gut wanted me to meet with him later? The other actually asked if I would sleep with him! Do I look like that type of girl?”

Martin glanced at her. “No.” She actually went for the friendly bookworm look. “But Venter soldiers can’t tell the difference,” he answered, swinging the door open. He motioned her in with a flourish and bow. “They have no respect for beauty.”

“I’d call you a creep too if I didn’t know you actually have a sliver of respect for me,” she said, giving him a slight smile and mocking curtsy.

Inside the soldiers of the fort were waiting for them, the surprise on their faces comical. Roy was standing near the front.

“Hey,” he said, pointing at Martin, “Alex, when did they catch you?”

“They didn’t catch me,” he told him, trying to drag one of the Venterians into the room. “Will a couple of you help me get these guards in here?” Thankfully, a few of the fort guards were quick enough to realize what was going on. After they put away the enemy soldiers, Martin closed the door again.

“If they didn’t catch you,” Roy said slowly, “then why are you here?”

“Stupid,” a soldier snapped. “He’s helping us escape.” The man smiled at Sona. “I’m glad you weren’t captured, Sona. To think of those animals touching you makes me feel like taking Terk by the throat…”

“Roy,” Martin snapped, cutting the man short. Sona only shook her head at him, though he did notice her smile. “If we could get you out, could you get to General Sanders and tell him we need him here?”

“Why do we need the general?” Roy asked, frowning. “Shouldn’t we take the fort back?”

“There’s not enough of us to take the fort back,” another soldier pointed out. “Sanders, however, does have a large enough force.”

“One of us can sneak out,” the first soldier mused. “The both of you did come from the general’s camp. Alex, you seem sneaky enough to not get caught, you should be sneaky enough to get out.” The look he gave Sona somehow annoyed him.

“Roy’s a better rider,” Martin pointed out, glaring at the man. “Besides, I have a debt to these people. I am going to everything I can to help them get through this.”

“Getting the army is just as good as payment as staying,” the man said, stepping up to him. Martin hated men who were taller than him. They always seemed to think they could bully him. The man brushed his coat collar. “Why don’t you go? You look like a trouble maker. Best if you leave.”

“How about you?” he snapped, pushing the man away. “I’m not leaving!”

“Boys!” Sona put herself between the two of them, holding them at arms length. “Alex has every right to stay, Peter. Now, both of you act your age!” Martin matched Peter’s glare, held back only by Sona’s light touch.

“Fine,” Peter finally said, stepping back. He did not fool anyone with his forced smile and the stiff hand he held out. Martin returned the shake with an equally hard hand. They shook only once before pulling away quickly.

“Now,” she said sharply, her posture demanding no more arguments, “Alex is right. Roy is the best rider. We need to find a way to get him out of here before Terk finds out all of you have escaped.”

“Terk is here?”

Martin sympathized with the shocked looks on the guards’ faces at the news. “Sona and I saw the Mad General ourselves.”

“Why is he here?”

“How should we know?” Sona asked. “A plan?”

“I know a way to the stables that most don’t use,” a soldier volunteered with a raised hand. “And we can both get away.”

“Then go,” Peter ordered. Roy and the other man nodded and left the room. Martin rolled his eyes; they forgot to check before heading out. “In the meantime, the rest of us should do all we could to rescue the healers.”

“Really?” Martin folded his arms. “And what makes you think the Mad General is here for the healers? And where do you suggest hiding them? How about where we’re going to hide?”

“Now listen here, private,” Peter growled, bringing up a threatening finger. “I’m the one in charge here. I have the highest rank. I’ll be the one giving the orders.”

“That still doesn’t answer my questions.”

“Boys,” Sona snapped again. “I think we should talk somewhere else. Before we get caught.” Martin cringed as one of the Mesa guards peeked out of the door and waved them onward.

“Wait!” he stopped them before they left. “Do you even know where to hide?”

“Do you know a place?” Peter demanded to know, trying to use his height again to intimidate him. Martin gave him one of his more annoying smirks.

“Yes,” he replied, “I do. But if we’re going to get there, you’re going to have to listen to me.” Peter tried to argue, but thankfully the other guards readily agreed with his plan. After giving them directions to the tunnel and instructions to open the door, they went out two at a time. Despite his earlier assumptions, they made it back to the hidden room without being seen. Sona noticed his frown as he closed the entrance at the kitchen end.

“What’s the matter?”

“Terk hasn’t bothered with too many patrols,” he mentioned. “And why didn’t he thoroughly search this place? He must know he doesn’t control everyone here. Why doesn’t it bother him?”

“His mind is on something else?” she suggested. “Come on, Peter will want to form a battle plan.” She chuckled at his blank look at the mention of the insufferable soldier.

Peter was already directing the rest of the soldiers into formation. Martin stayed at the back, his arms folded across his chest. Thankfully, Sona stood by him while the young captain outlined their attack once they assembled.

“Now,” Peter was saying, tapping the table with a thick finger. “We need someone to spy on the enemy, maybe try to figure out why they are here.” His seedy glare found him near the back. “How about you?”

Martin just shrugged, irritating the man. “Guess I will.”

The side of Peter’s mouth twitched. An easy sign of a lost temper or near smile, and Martin didn’t need to guess which the soldier was leaning towards. The young captain threw his shoulder back, making his broad chest seem broader. “You think you know better than me?”

“Yes.” But he was not going to say it.

“Boys…” Sona said dangerously, almost stepping between them again. “We need to work together.”

“And he’ll do the work outside,” Peter said through his teeth. “Get going!”

“Might I point out that I’d get caught?” Martin stood taller, although knowing he had no height against the man. “Best wait for near sunrise. The night guards will be tried and the rest not all awake.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue when Sona silenced him with the raise of her hand. “Alex is right. That’s the best time for sneaking around.” The stare she gave them told them she would not tolerate any more arguments. Finally, Peter nodded.

“Well, then,” Martin said, grabbing the nearest chair and sitting on it, “I best get my sleep so I can be awake during my part of your plan.” Snorting softly, he pulled his hat over his eyes and leaned back in the chair. They might see him as an insubordinate underling, but he found that he did not care. He knew his talents; he never let others of little importance judge him because they did not know of those talents.
**********
Peter glared at the young man who slept soundly at the back of the room, his hat pulled over his common face. The other soldiers also slept, all of them agreeing that they couldn’t do much until they knew what was happening outside the hidden tunnel. Peter had taken the first watch, though he was beginning to feel the drag of the long day.

“You’ve been up since sunrise,” Sona pointed out to him, sitting down beside him. “You really need to get more rest.” He glanced at his cousin; he had been surprised to see her arrive the day before. From what he heard through the family, Sona had joined the spies and was currently working on something grand. He had yet to get out of her what that project was.

“Well,” he grumbled, “I had to practice and everyone else seemed too tired to do watch.” Sona only rolled her eyes. Sighing, she casually glanced over at the troublesome private. Peter knew the look, having seen it from his three older sisters. He also glanced at the private, still troubled after learning his name and the friendship he had with his cousin.

“He’s the Spy Alex?” he asked softly. Sona jumped in her seat. Her expression changed from surprise, to uncertainty, and then finally settled on annoyed.

“Don’t say such things aloud,” she told him sharply. “Spies don’t like their cover blown, and he’ll get you back if you do.”

Peter rolled his eyes, groaning. “I’ve heard the rumors of the Alex, Sona. No need to lecture me about it.” Still, he had expected an older person to hold the spy title. However, Sona confirmed the truth. The troublesome private he had argued with was one of the most dangerous men in Aeterna. He shivered. He had no idea.

“Think he’ll be able to get the info we need?” he asked, trying to break the uneasy silence that came between them.

“Of course he can,” Sona snapped. “He’s one of the greatest spies we have! The things he’s done...”

“And you like him?” he cut her short. His cousin stopped her lecture to stare at him in a mix of shock and horror.

“Well…” she stumbled, fingering the cuffs of her shirt, “he’s… I’ve seen a lot of his reports across my desk….”

“Cousin,” Peter sighed. “Just answer my question. Do you like him? I mean, you keep defending him and I can see the way you look at him.” Surprisingly, Sona blushed. From the last time he saw his cousin, she didn’t ever blush at such accusations of love. Before she would scowl and say that she was too young for such thoughts.

Finally, she huffed. “If you want a plain answer. Then, yes, I do like him.” The tone she used implied a row if he tried to talk her out of it.

He laughed wearily. “If you like him, there must be something special. But I am a little curious; does he know you like him? And if so, does he like you?”

It was Sona’s turn to sigh. Laying her hands on her lap, she stared down. “I don’t think he knows.” She paused, then continued slowly. “Alex is… hard working. The reason why he got the title so young, why he’s able to do the things he does… It’s all because he worked hard to get it. I doubt if he even knows that he’s one of the more popular men at the Tree.” Sona lifted her head, smiling weakly at him. “He’s focused on his goals.”

Peter carefully considered his next words. “You’re going to get hurt,” he finally said softly. “If he’s that dedicated…”

Sona laughed, cutting him off in surprise. “He’s reached his goals now,” she said, still chuckling. “It’s only a matter of time before he realizes he needs another goal to keep him busy. And I’m going to be there to guide him to the next goal. I just got to wait until he’s ready.”

Peter stared at his cousin, speechless. She really did believe she could capture a man committed to his job. He wanted to caution her that the path she was trying to follow would only lead to pain, but the determined expression locked on her face told him that words would not reach her. Sighing, he glanced over again at the Alex.

“You’re a dangerous man,” he thought. “The rumors claim death follows you. I just hope Sona doesn’t find herself in that snare.” And he fervently hoped his cousin would realize the same before she was hurt.
***********
Martin fell asleep to the dream world reflecting reality. As he suspected, he stood beside the chair he had fallen asleep in. “Maybe I’m finally having more control over my dreams,” he grumbled before walking out of the room. This time, he wanted to be here. Just because he didn’t understand completely about his strange abilities didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use them.

“Right,” he muttered, pausing a moment in Hanna’s office; he was certain no one was in the hole in the wall to notice a hidden door suddenly opening. “Where to?” As far as he knew, there were no other people in this dream world, but their things were. Supposing the Venterians stored their things in the courtyard, he made his way outside.

Sure enough, extra supplies with Venter markings were neatly stored around the courtyard. Martin moved carefully though the supplies, unsure what surprises this dream could hold if he wasn’t careful. He may not be the only one who could enter this strange place.

A large box was suddenly lifted up in front of him. Shocked, he jumped out of the way as it began moving forward. “Someone must be carrying it.” The last time he had dreamed here, nearly everyone was asleep. Still unsure what was happening, he followed after the floating box. He soon caught up with it and read the Venter label on it.

Bandages

It was a usual army supply, but Martin felt uneasy about it. It was a strange feeling, as if he knew the label was misleading. Trusting his senses, he continued to follow it until it finally was put down. He waited for it to be opened, but nothing happened afterwards. Frowning, he examined the room where he was led.

It was one of the wards, one he guessed where the more seriously wounded were kept. The medicine cabinets were larger than normal.

“Why bring bandages here?” he wondered aloud. Bandages were delivered to each ward as needed, since Hanna insisted they were boiled before use each time. To have them delivered in a box and not immediately set to use only made his suspicions become more concrete. Something was not right here.

“Alex?” a voice called to him. He jumped slightly, looking around. The voice sounded familiar, but it was distant. “Alex? Are you going to get up?”

“Sona,” he said, surprised. Why could he hear her? He felt his shoulder being moved back and forth. She was trying to wake him up. “Can she wake me up when I’m here?” he wondered as he took the first few steps to where he left his sleeping form when he opened his eyes to find the research spy glaring down at him.

“You’re a heavy sleeper,” she snorted, tossing his hat back at him. He caught it, still a bit disoriented. How did he end up here?

“It must act like a real dream.” He wanted to sigh in relief. At least he wouldn’t be trapped in that world if he couldn’t find his way back. “What time is it?” he asked her as he stretched in his chair.

“Nearing sunrise,” she answered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Do you know where you’re going to look first?”

Martin stood and went for the door. “Maybe,” he said quietly. Turning around, he winked at the researcher. “I’ll be back in an hour.” Nodding his thanks to the soldier standing watch, he left the same way as in his dream.
*********
Hum. What could this be? I'm going to do a bit of foreshadowing for next week's post. Remember that box in my short about Martin? How about remembering the man with the quiet dangerous voice? It's time for that adventure to come back and haunt our hero.

Oh, one last thing. This may be my first post of newly written adventures, but it is the last post I'm doing here in Idaho Falls this summer. Yes, next week I'm at camp, working as the kitchen director at Trefoil Ranch. Right now, I honestly don't know what type of schedule I'll have, so my posts this summer might not be as regular. I'll still post every week but... You may have to wait until Saturday or Sunday to read it. It can't be helped. Until next week... sometime.