Believing the Truth

Well, the semester has started and it's looking like its going to be the most painful yet (and I'm not even in Nutrtion Biochemistry yet). I hear faint cries... "Stop complaining about school already! Get to the story!) Very well. Martin has been captured and the Stand is sending a rescue. Just an FYI, I LOVED writing this section!
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Tyler had been given command over the warship. Glen had seen the pain in Gillian’s eyes as he ordered the sailor to captain the ship out. Any color the commander had left in his face was completely gone as they sailed out from the alcove under the fort; he looked like death itself.

The warship rocked gently as they sailed for the Venter ship. The enemy ship had sailed farther off shore earlier, and all the Seacat ships were gone. Glen stood by the railing, watching as they approached the anchored Venter ship.

“This is an impressive ship,” Tyler said, approaching him. “I can understand why the Seacats wanted to banish it as well as its captain.”

Glen didn’t answer his cousin. It was an impressive ship. Forty cannons, magic barriers to conceal it from magical eyes and attacks, a shallow draft, and muted colors. This ship was meant to go to war.

Hopefully it won’t come to that. The current plan was risky for just one. One volunteer would swim over to the Venter ship, sneak aboard, find Martin, free him, then swim back. If that didn’t work, the volunteer would send a signal a fire flare into the air and the warship would attack.

Risky for the one volunteer. There had been many volunteers, but Glen took command. He was the one going. He checked his belt of tools again. Smoke bombs, sticky balls, knives, explosives, and rope. He wore the same stealth suits they used during the siege. Gillian said it provided minor protection against magical attacks. Not much, but perhaps enough to stay alive long enough to rescue Martin.

“Nervous?” Tyler asked. Glen glanced at his cousin. Tyler was never meant for land. On land, the sailor was just a bit awkward and clumsy. But back on the sea, the sailor moved with the ship and its swaying. This is where his cousin belonged.

“A bit,” he admitted, switching his gaze back to the other ship. “I’m worried about him.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away, but gazed thoughtfully out over the sea. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?” Glen asked, somehow finding a smile. “Martin is probably being tortured as we speak.”

“He’s a tough kid,” Tyler said, shrugging. “And I’d bet anything that he’d say he’s gone through worse. Besides, I just have a feeling that he’s alright. But perhaps that’s just me. I’ve missed the sea.”

Glen frowned. He had the same feeling but… Why did he also feel that it could get worse for their young friend if they didn’t act soon? He judged the distance between them and the enemy ship. A little more than a mile.

“I’m going,” he announced.

“What?” Tyler asked. Before his cousin could stop him, Glen jumped over the rail. “Wait!” he heard Tyler cry above, but it was too late. Extending his arms, he dove into the choppy waters.

A mile swim in the ocean, he thought as he started swimming towards the Venter ship. I can do this!

The going was slow in the cold waves. Gillian had predicted an early spring this year, but Glen didn’t believe it as he swam. The stealth suit did nothing to protect him from the cold. His teeth started to chatter the longer he swam. But he refused to stop. His friend risked his life for him; he could only do the same.

Glen paused as he reached the ship. There were some watches on the deck. He watched their movements before decided that they wouldn’t see him climb up the aft side. Taking the rope from around his shoulder, he formed a lasso and threw it onto one of the decorative iron lamps by a darkened window. Tugging on it, he found it secure enough to climb.

The climb up the rope was a lot faster then his swim to the warship. No surprises there. No one could see him here. With a thief’s eye, he judged the window an easy open. Digging his cold fingers into the woodwork, he pulled at the window. It slowly opened enough for him to slip his fingers in and pull it open all the way.

What a disappointment, he thought as he slipped into what looked like an officer’s quarters. The window hadn’t even been locked. Now, where would they hold a spy? The easiest answer would be below deck, tied up from head to toe. Glen doubted they knew they were dealing with the Alex, since none of the council knew, but the enemy was no fool. Martin was a fighter.

He started for the door when he heard voices. Freezing, he watched as light filtered under the door.

“It seems that Cantry is distraught,” chuckled a dull voice.

“Well, he did betray a Santer,” chuckled another equally dull voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d try to rescue the Santer to try to atone for what he’s done.”

“Speaking of the Santer,” laughed a third voice. “I suggest we go have that talk.” The three voices laughed in unison. The light faded from his view.

Glen stiffened. A Santer? Here? For a split moment, he was torn between finding his friend and helping the Santer. He gritted his teeth. I’m sorry Martin. But the Santer has to come first. Hating himself but knowing the spy would understand, he slipped out of the room and went in the direction the three voices had gone.

The thief racked his brain to figure out if they had captured the queen or the princess. Last he knew, the princess had disappeared for some “manner” lessons and the queen was at Nacre. But that had been two months ago. No news had entered the Stand since the siege began. They had no idea of knowing what was happening outside.

Glen slowed as he neared the light again; it now came from around a corner. Peeking around the corner, he saw three men dressed in overly big cloaks; one of them had blue hair. They were walking down a flight of stairs. Glen started to follow when he noticed they stopped at a door with guards.

They’ll see me if I go down there. Glancing around, he decided to find the room above the other. Surely this boat had holes. Running back the way he came, he found the room he was looking for. A storage room full of crates, he looked down at the floor until he found a hole just right. Kneeling down, he looked down into the room below. He was surprised at the sight that met him.

Martin sat with his back to the wall, his head bent down as if unconscious; his belt of knives and his boots had been removed. Glen frowned. Where was the Santer? Then he noticed the spy’s restraints. A metal bar pressed into the spy’s lower back and his arms bent at the elbows around the bar, leather tongs tied at his elbows to keep the bar in place. The thief recognized why they had bound him that way. It gave him enough freedom to move, but it stopped him from getting to his restraints. Glen wanted to pry the floor apart, leap down, and rescue his friend, but the door opened and the three men he saw from earlier swept in.

Taking in a good look at the three men, Glen realized they were the mages. All the same except for one having blue hair, one with white eyes, and the last a half foot shorter than the others.

“Wake him,” said one mage to a solider with a bucket. Nodding, the solider dumped the water down on Martin’s head. The spy woke up with a gasp, shaking the water from his short hair. For a split second, he seemed disoriented, then he focused on the mages. Immediately he tried to stand, but the bar was bolted to the floor. He struggled against the leather thongs that kept him tied.

“Now, now,” sneered the shortest mage, shaking his finger at him. “There’s no use fighting. Calm yourself before you hurt yourself.”

Martin shook with anger. “What do you want?” he growled, though he no longer thrashed about.

The three mages chuckled. “As if you don’t know.” The blue-haired mage squatted down. “Tell us. When was the last time you saw your reflection?”

The last time he saw his reflection? Glen mouthed, confused by the question.

“Must be hard shaving,” sneered the shortest.

“It’s none of your business!” Martin snapped.

The white-eyed mage laughed, the sound of it grating on the thief’s ears. “It is our business.” He gazed down critically at the spy. “It’s not often we get to see our work. I must say, we did a good job on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Martin’s retort didn’t have the snap it had before. There was a tone of uncertainty now.

“Don’t you?” the shortest asked, grinning. “Maybe this will help you remember.” The three mages clapped their hands and muttered a low chant. Martin cried out in pain, curling into a ball beneath the magic.

Glen watched, transfixed, at what he saw below him. Martin changed. It was a slow transformation, his limbs grew longer, his clothes sagged as his body thinned. His hair grew out, getting blonder the longer it grew. Suddenly the mages stopped chanting and Martin let out a gasp, as if freed. He raised his head, revealing an unfamiliar face to Glen. It was a noble face with chiseled features, a long nose to stare down, and deep blue eyes. Martin jumped where he sat, looking down at his altered body and now long blond hair. One of the mages produced a mirror and showed the spy his altered face. The color in his new face drained.

“What have you done to me?” Martin yelled. Glen jumped. His voice hadn’t changed.

“We only returned you to your real form,” white-eyed taunted, putting the mirror away. “Do you believe now that you’re the prince?”

Glen shook, gaping down at the spy. Martin was the prince?

Strangely, Martin didn’t reply back, his now blue eyes lowered. The three mages laughed. “You Santers,” Shortest snickered, “too stubborn for your own good.” Again, Martin remained silent, though his eyes narrowed in anger.

“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going to happen now,” Blue-haired remarked, idly waiving his hand. “You already know why we didn’t hold you for ransom when you were two. Now is no different. In fact, your Gift is stronger now than ever before.”

“No,” Martin finally said, softly.

“No?” White-eyed asked. “No what?”

“No,” the spy… prince repeated, his voice stronger and more defiant. He raised his head and glared at the three mages. “I don’t know why you took me.”

“Liar,” Shortest snapped. “You’ve been practicing your powers, Santer. Granted, you’ve been using your lesser powers but we figured that was because you don’t want to shout to the entire magical community where you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Martin snapped.

The mages snorted together and clapped their hands again. Martin cried out again, crouching as the magic took hold of him again. His limbs pulled back and he filled his clothes. His hair shortened and returned to its dark brown. This time, Glen could see the princely face morph into the face of the spy he knew. The magic released him and Martin sobbed as his body un-tensed. The white-eyed mage took his turn to squat down to the young man’s level.

“You’d better be good, Santer,” he growled. “We won’t tolerate lies or bad behavior. Remember, we can change your face whenever we want. We’re the only ones who can. Now, you will cooperate with us or we will change you back and forth.”

“I won’t tell you anything,” Martin snapped, looking up with his hazel eyes. “And I won’t cooperate!”

Shortest snorted. “The pirates said that there was fight in you.”

“But we’re willing to wait,” the white-eyed mage said, grinning. “We have time to break you, Santer. How many times do you think you’ll be able to handle your face being changed?” Martin actually grimaced.

“But it will have to wait until later. Come,” Blue-haired snapped. “Let’s give the prince time to think things over.” With deliberate snaps of their hard soled boots, they left the room, locking the door behind them.

Glen waited twenty fast heartbeats before looking back down at his friend. Martin struggled against his bonds, determined to free himself. The thief just could not wrap his head around the idea. Martin? The orphan, the spy, the young man who believed that everyone hated him? He was the prince?

I’ll have to answer those questions later, Glen thought, shaking his head. Martin would answer later. Right now, he had to rescue the young man. He thought about prying the floor apart, and then realized the noise it would make. The guards would come charging in the moment they heard wood breaking.

I have to go through the front door. Glen dashed out of the storage room to the stair, pulling out one of the smoke bombs. It was yet another special one from Yate’s armory. This one would knock people out. Pulling the pin, the thief threw it down the stairs to where the guards stood.

Glen spun around the corner again and waited. Two thuds came seconds later. There go the guards. Pulling out the mask he hadn’t yet put on, he did so now, hoping that it would protect him from the toxic fumes. He slowly made his way down the stairs, careful to make sure he knew if he were getting dizzy. Thankfully, he felt no such effect. He did a quick search of the guards until he found the keys. Scrambling with the lock, he opened it and then the door.

Martin looked up when Glen burst in. “Glen!” he said, immediately recognizing him despite the mask. “Help me out of here!”

Glen rushed to his friend’s side and cut the leather ties. Martin unwound his arms from the bar, rubbing his elbows.

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the thief helped him to his feet.

“Care to take a swim?” Glen asked. “It’s only about a mile out to the rescue ship.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Even with a rescue, no one’s going to make it easy for me.” He sighed, glancing at the door and the unconscious guards. “How many floors down are we to the deck?”

“There’s an officer’s window on the level above that I used to come in,” Glen suggested. “Last I knew, no one was there.” He paused. There was something that had been bothering him since Martin’s capture.

“Martin, who betrayed you?”

The spy scowled. “Lord Cantry. He told the Seacats that I would be out searching the Stand. He’s here somewhere on the boat. I suppose we should rescue him as well.” His tone was bitter, but there was a willingness to go. Glen had to admire the spy for his dedication. He wouldn’t let grudges overshadow his responsibility.

“Any ideas where to find him?” he asked, folding his arms. If Cantry betrayed their prince, he would have been inclined to leave the coward to deal with the enemy when they found out Martin had escaped.

Martin thought about it, and then hesitantly glanced at him. Sighing, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Glen frowned. Why was he choosing to meditate now?

“The floor above,” Martin finally sighed, opening his eyes. “Drunk.”
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Cantry stared at the mug of whatever the cook gave him. It was far from the best ale he’s ever tasted, he’d even go as far as say it was the second to worse, but he downed the contents as fast as he could. This was his fourth mug full of whatever. I am going to have such a headache tomorrow. He snorted in his drink. That was the least of his worries.

He had betrayed Aeterna.

A sob escaped his numb lips. How could he have done this act? He thought he was saving the Stand. Martin was an extra spy, someone who dealt with death on an unnaturally daily basis. He wasn’t the prince then. And now…He burst into tears again, pounding his head on the ale stained table.

“That’s disgusting.”

Cantry looked up, his head spinning. For a moment the world spun around until it finally focused on the two men standing in the doorway. One was in a stealth uniform, the other…

“Martin!” he cried, a ridiculous smile coming to his face. Stumbling back out of his chair, he staggered to where the prince was, grabbed the front of his shirt and sobbed into it, blowing his nose in it while he was at it. The prince stumbled back and tried to push him away.

“That’s even more disgusting,” the other man said with a step back, shocked at the lord’s behavior. “Are you sure we want to save this?”

Martin rolled his eyes, but managed to pry Cantry off of him. “He’s still an Aeternan. We should.”

The other man groaned but didn’t protest. Cantry was still smiling. The prince thought he was worth saving.

“I know a way out!” he announced, swinging around and loosing his balance. The two men caught him before he landed on his butt. He laughed out loud. “You see,” he whispered to them. “They have row boats on deck. Sneak off on one of those and away we go, back to the Stand.”

Martin exchanged glances with the masked man. “Well,” he said slowly. “It’d be better than swimming…”

“Yeah,” Masked One said, skeptical. “But we also have to deal with the guards.”

“You have smoke bombs.”

Masked One groaned again. “I’m regretting coming for him.”

“I’ll have you know I’ll help!” Cantry declared, swatting their steady hands away. “I’ll be a distraction!”

The two men exchanged glances. “Well,” Martin said, shrugging. “He’s an excellent distraction.”

Cantry grinned at the praise. He was going to be the best distraction the prince would ever know!
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I can’t believe how much I’m able read him, Martin thought, watching as Cantry somehow managed to make it up the stairs to the deck above. He was hesitant to use his powers, but reasoned it didn’t matter. The mages knew where he was, there was no harm in feeling for Aeternans.

It was a bit of a shock, he would admit, when he did finally open himself to the emotions. He could tell faintly there was another Aeternan beside him, Glen, and another larger source far off, but Cantry was full of sorrow and drink, he was surprised he hadn’t felt the lord’s emotions even with the block.

“I sure hope we don’t regret saving him,” Glen grumbled again, sneaking up the stairs. Martin didn’t answer; he didn’t understand himself why he wanted to save the drunken lord. His own feelings were to leave Cantry to the mages once it was discovered that he had escaped, but something urged him to try to help.

These powers are getting out of hand, Martin thought bitterly. He shivered as he remembered when the mages said he was more powerful now than ever before. Just what else can I do?

There was no more denying the fact. Not after how they managed to change his face. Martin could still remember how it felt with that different face; it had felt right. Even now, back to the only face he’s known, he somehow felt that he wasn’t quite whole. There was something missing inside of him.

“Hey, Martin?” Glen asked as he reached the top of the stairs to watch as the lord gave his distraction. “Are you alright?”

No, he thought, joining the thief at the top. My life has completely changed.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, trying to distract the thief from his troubling thoughts.

Cantry ran into the sentries and was laughing loudly about something they said to him. They cringed at his antics. “I just hope he doesn’t give us away,” Glen mumbled. “He’s really drunk.”

There wasn’t any argument. Martin was starting to share Glen’s worry.

“Let’s go,” he suggested, cringing at yet another loud announcement from the drunken lord. Glen nodded. Together, they snuck across the deck, opposite of where Cantry was distracting the guards. They were a little more than two thirds there when Cantry laughed again.

“My friends are over there! See?”

Martin and Glen froze, sharing a brief we-got-caught look.

“Escaped prisoners!” the call went out. “Escaped prisoners on deck!”

They started running for the nearest row boat when Venter soldiers dashed in and blocked their way. Martin glanced around, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess.

Glen grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the center of the deck. To the mast. “Glen,” Martin said, knowing what the thief had in mind. “I don’t think this is a good idea!”

“And neither was saving the lord!” Glen snapped. Thinking of Cantry, Martin tried to find him in the sudden influx of Venter soldiers. The lord was trying to tug a sword free from the guards he stopped.

“How dare you all!” he yelled, his words slurring with drink. He tugged at the sword in the more steady hand of the soldier. “I’d rather die than let you take him again!”

The soldier snorted and pried his sword away from the lord. “Then die already!” The soldier rammed his blade into Cantry’s chest. The lord looked down with surprise before collapsing on the deck. Martin gasped. The thoughts that were Cantry’s were suddenly just gone!

“Martin!” Glen snapped, yanking him back to the present and pushing him to the mast. “Start climbing up!”

“But!” he started to protest, though he grabbed the first hand hold.

“No buts!” the thief snapped, pushing him to go up. “Start climbing!”

Martin groaned but started to climb up the mast. He kept his eyes on the next hold up, his sight never wavering to the sides or down. I just have to get the next hold! The trick worked well enough. He climbed the mast a lot faster than he had been expecting.

He reached the first sail when he looked down to see how the thief was coming. Vertigo immediately took him, the world spinning in disorient ways. Martin grabbed for the rotating mask and held tight to it. Calm yourself! he tried to order, but his fear refused to listen. Breathing deep gaping breathes, he felt as if he would pass out.

“Come on!” Glen said, reaching him. “They’re coming after us! Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Martin snapped, shutting his eyes to keep the world from spinning. “They’ll catch us up there as well as here!”

Glen blinked, a slow understanding coming to him. “You’re scared of heights.”

“What gave you the clue?” Martin clung tighter to the mast as a strong wind swayed it.

“Martin?” Glen asked softly, no longer with the urgent tone. “Will you trust me?”

Martin opened one eye to glare at the thief. “You know I trust you.” Very few people ever heard that from him.

“Then trust me now and let go of the mast.” Martin eyed the thief, his fear-freezed brain unable to figure out what the thief had in mind. Reluctantly, he loosened his death-grip on the mast.

Glen grabbed his arm and ran across the sail. Martin cried out. I’m going to fall! Somehow he managed to keep his feet from slipping from the narrow walkway. “Get ready!”

Ready for what? Martin wanted to know. Before he could ask, Glen jumped from the walkway, taking him with him. A scream wrenched itself out of his mouth as he fell through the cold wind.

I am going to die!

The water came fast and hit him hard. For the second time that day, the air was forced from his lungs as he plunged into the sea. This time, he managed to find the surface. Sputtering, he gasped in air again.

“Glen!” he cried out, “Glen!” Martin couldn’t remember letting go of the thief’s hand. A wave crashed over him, sending him under. Fighting his way to the surface, he coughed the water out. “GLEN!”

“Martin!”

The spy swam in a circle, trying to tell from which direction the thief’s voice was coming from. “Glen!” He heard a muffle for a reply. By the Seven Founders! Things were just getting worse.

I need to find Glen and the ship, Martin thought as he tried to keep his head above the choppy waters. I need help!

“We hear you.”

Martin froze. What was that voice? Panic finally found him. Now he was hearing voices! “NO!” he screamed. He opened himself to the emotions again, desperate to try anything. There! Martin spun in the water, throwing his arms out in the direction he knew Glen was at. An intense shock ran through his arms and hurt as it left his fingers. The water suddenly calmed enough for him to see Glen fighting the waves a few yards from him. The calm water formed a path for him to swim towards the thief. Martin couldn’t think about what had just happened.

“Martin!” Glen gasped, his eyes wide as he swam through the calmed water. As soon as he reached the thief, the water returned to its torment of them.

“Do you know where the ship is?” Martin had to yell over the waves.

“I don’t!” Glen spattered. “I got turned around when we hit the water!”

Great.

Martin knew he had to use his powers. But the mages might find me again! He gritted his teeth; it was either die at sea or try for a rescue. Throwing the block aside, he quickly searched for that source he felt earlier. It was a lot closer than it was earlier.

“There!” Martin pointed behind Glen. “I can see the ship! It’s ours!”

Before either of them could swim, a call came out from the ship and a rope was thrown to them. A throw that was nearly impossible.

“Who’s on that ship?” Martin asked as they quickly tied the rope around their waists and tugged on it. They began to be pulled through the water.

“Just about every talented person from the fort,” Glen yelled back, laughing with relief. “You have no idea how popular you really are, my young spy!”

Martin couldn’t answer. How could he be popular? He was the orphan, the one who was betrayed for the rest of the Stand. Very few people actually cared for him.

They finally reached the warship and were pulled up. Splat! Martin hit the deck hard, gasping for breath. Someone draped a thick woolen blanket around his shivering shoulders. Glen started to stand, holding his blanket tight around his shivering body.

“Well, Cantry is dead,” he spat. “Serves him right. Betraying our Martin.”

“Martin,” Tyler said, kneeling down next to him. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you in anyway? We have healers if you need them.”

The spy shook his head. “No healer can heal what they did.” He stumbled to his feet, surprised by the number of onlookers. They seemed relieved to see him. Martin flinched. How could he be popular? He shivered, though it was not for the cold. Is it because of my powers?

Tyler nodded back out over the sea. “What are we to do about them?” Martin followed the sailor’s gaze to find the Venter warship approaching. He was sure the mages were trying to cast spells on them, but after what everything that had happened, he just could not figure out why it wasn’t hitting them.

“They need to be destroyed.”

The deck went suddenly silent, even Glen seemed shocked by his declaration. Tyler was the only one who seemed to understand. “They’re that dangerous, huh?”

Martin looked down at his hand, the scared and calloused one. Not the smooth hand of a prince. “They’re more dangerous than any of you can understand.”

Tyler nodded. “Gillian said that you might say they needed to be destroyed. Genwell!”

“Yes sir?” came the answer from below.

“Prepare the mage bomb and fire on Martin’s order!” This surprised the spy. Why his order?

“Aye, aye, sir!” There were sounds of a cannon being loaded. “Ready for your command, Martin!”

Martin took a moment to gaze back at the Venter warship. It was on that ship three mages who knew he was the prince. They could change his face at their will. They should go on trial for committing such a horrific pain on a fellow human. But Martin couldn’t wait for such a trail. Neither could Aeterna.

I’m never going to have my real face. Not that it was ever his. He’s only known the one everyone on the ship saw. Perhaps it was better that way.

“Fire.”

Blue fire shot out from under them. It arched gracefully in the dark night and hit directly on the deck of the other ship. All was silent for a moment before a bright light exploded on the ship. Martin shielded his eyes from the brightness. A strong wind hit them, rocking the warship dangerously in the sea. Then it was over, without a sound.

Everyone glanced to the now destroyed ship, but Martin was bent over. Something had changed. Groaning softly, he closed his eyes tight. He knew exactly what had just happened. It felt as if something had finally settled within him, like a sudden drop in his stomach. He was more solid now.

This will be my face from now on.

The mages had been killed and he would never have his face changed again.
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Next week's post: the last of the Rebellious Spy.