Fred’s Secret

Oh, my, oh my. A lot happens in this post. Poor, poor Martin. I’ll not leave you in suspense and just jump into the story.
***********
He was flat on his back when he finally came around. His head throbbed from where he got hit, but the rest of him seemed alright. Slowly opening his eyes, he vaguely saw what looked like a wood ceiling, then a face suddenly appeared. Sara gasped.

“Martin!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You’re alright!”

“I will be when I sit up,” he grumbled, gently pushing the princess away. With a groan, he managed to sit up and took a chance to look at their surroundings. They were in what looked like a small wooden shed, the boards of the walls and ceiling ill-fitted with gaps just big enough to let light in. Judging from the flickering lights outside, he guessed it was after dark and there were people outside enjoying a fire.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. At least it wasn’t bleeding. “I’m guessing that we’ve been captured by someone.”

“Brilliant deduction,” Sara said bitterly. “I don’t know who they are or what they want. When you passed out, they got me off my horse, gagged and blindfolded me, then threw you and me into this shed and locked the door. Nothing said, no threats, no demand for goods, no nothing.”

“So we aren’t dealing with any regular thieves,” Martin pointed out. “That narrows down the field to kidnappers.” Or worse, he silently added.

“Kidnappers?” Sara asked, surprised. “But… No one knew…”

“No one knew what?”

Martin and Sara turned to the door. There was a barred window in the door with a face looking in on them. It was an older man, perhaps in his forties, with graying hair in his dull blond hair.

“No one knew how awful a wood shack smells like,” Martin sneered. “At least, not until they get trapped in one.”

“Funny,” the man said in a bored tone. “Who are you? What were you doing trying to go over the Raven Pass?”

“The Raven Pass has always been open to anyone to use,” Martin replied. “What is wrong with that?”

“The Raven Pass is a strategic place,” the man said. “Taking it is in our favor.”

“Venterans,” Sara breathed, shrinking to the back of the shed.

“True,” the man said, smiling a bit. “We’ve just taken the top yesterday. You are not the first travelers we’ve come across since then, but you are the first on this side.”

Martin frowned. He had heard of no such Venter activity in the area. He should know. The reason why Lord Grelend’s estate was picked for the gathering of possible princes was because it was out of the way for either army to consider. Yes, it was an economic stronghold, but the military had no real purpose for coming here.

“You don’t believe me,” the man said, seeing Martin’s face.

“The pass will be hard to keep,” he pointed out. “There are other passes close enough that another army could go over those and hit you on both sides. The pass is also too wide to fully cover.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you a military man?”

“I’ve studied,” Martin replied, keeping his tone calm. “But I have no wish to kill on a daily basis.”

“Pity,” the man hummed. “We will continue this conversation later, I should think. In the mean time, I would like to warn you, escape is impossible. There is only one key to unlock your door, kept with the guard outside your hut. And if you somehow manage to get out, you’ll still need to get past the hundred men camped around you. Then you’ll have to find safety on foot, and avoid us as we search for you.” He paused, slowly grinning. “I hope you enjoy your evening.” He walked away.

Martin waited a moment before standing and checking the view outside. It was just as the man had described. A guard stood a few feet from their shed, watching. Behind him there were rows of tents as men cooked their meals over fires.

“This is going to be tricky,” he started to mumble, putting his back to the door. “First thing…” He stopped. Princess Sara sat in the far corner, shivering as she held her knees close to her chest.

“They’re going to find out who I am,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “They’re going to figure out that this isn’t my hair color, they’re going to notice how much I look like mother.” She sobbed, burying her face in her knees. “They’re going to kill me!”

“No, they’re not,” Martin said firmly, walking over and kneeling down next to her. “If anything, they’re going to ransom you.” She continued to sob. He had to take a deep breath; dealing with teenage girls was not something he liked to do. “Sara, look at me.” She didn’t. “Look at me.” Finally she peered up from her knees. “I promise you, I am not going to let them take you. We’re going to escape.”

“How?” she sniffed, rubbing her nose. “You heard him. There’s no escape.”

Martin snorted. “I’ve escaped from worse than this. I have a plan but I need your help. Could you use your powers to get the key over to us? It’s on the guard’s belt...”

Sara snorted, cutting him off. “Martin. I don’t have those powers.”

He knew that his mother and sister were weaker in the powers, but he didn’t know just how weak. “Of course you do,” he tried to say, thinking that all she needed was a bit of encouragement.

“No,” she insisted, new tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t. You don’t understand. I don’t have powers.”

Martin stared at her, surprised. “But I thought…”

“Mother explained it to me when she came to the Tree,” she sniffed, fighting back the tears. “My grandfather gave up the renewal spell and transferred it to my brother. My parents could never get those powers, but after my brother was born, any Santer born after him would.”

Martin frowned. Why hadn’t he heard this? “I don’t understand then,” he said. “You should be nearly as powerful as your brother…”

She shook her head. “No. The Renewal spell is not genetic. It’s a spark, an essence, passed down from Santer to Santer. Just like how a flame needs to be relit, so are the Santer powers. If grandfather kept the powers, all of his grandchildren would have the powers. However, he gave it up and passed it to my brother.”

“You’re talking in circles,” he accused. “That sounds like you should be…”

“My brother’s powers were block!” she snapped, the tears now streaking down her face. “The spark, the essence, was suppressed. They didn’t just rob my brother of his powers, they robbed mine as well. I was born under the conditions that there had not been a renewal spell. And it couldn’t go to me. My brother hadn’t given it up. So I was born without powers, Martin.” Her emotions finally broke free and she had trouble talking through her sobs. “I don’t have powers!”

Martin watched her cry, numb by what she had just told him. The guilt he had managed to suppress came in full strength. He had once told Sara that others weren’t as lucky as she was. Now he understood that he wasn’t the only one to have suffered under the Inhibitor. He should tell himself that others weren’t as lucky as him. Sara had been robbed of what should have been hers and it would never return to her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. “I didn’t know.”

“We didn’t either,” she sniffed, fighting to control her emotions.

“I’m still sorry,” he said, patting her shoulder. “But we do have a bigger problem. We need to escape. First thing we need to do is get the key.”

“On the guard’s belt,” she huffed. “And how, pray tell, are you going to do that? Oh, and when you get it, how are you going to put it in the lock? Unless your arm can bend in ways that normal humans can’t, I say that we’re in trouble.”

Martin flinched; she had a point. That left the one option he was very hesitant to do. But he had no choice. Sighing, he stepped over so he knelt in front of the princess and grabbed her shoulder.

“Sara,” he said, finding the words difficult to say. “I want you to promise me that you won’t say anything about our escape to anyone until we’re safe and I can answer your questions.”

The princess sniffed, her eyes puffy from crying. “What are you talking about?”

“Promise me,” he said, feeling the words catch on his tongue. This was not how he wanted to reveal himself to her! “I will answer your questions when we’re safe. But I need your word that you won’t say anything.”

She stared at him, her face blank with confusion and rung out emotions. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I won’t say anything.”

Taking a deep breath, Martin stood up and walked to the door. The guard’s back was to them as he ate his meal on a tree stump. Now would be the best time with his back turned. Taking another deep breath and closing his eyes, he focused on his surroundings, just as he had that day at the circus with Sona. He felt the lock on the door and the key hanging from the guard’s belt. He could feel Sara watching him from her spot on the floor.

Slowly letting out his breath, he used his powers to bring the key over. It unlatched itself from the guard’s belt and floated over to where the lock was. Behind him, he heard Sara’s gasp in surprise, her shock hitting him. She may not have powers, but she could feel his. Forcing her out of his mind, he slowly had the key slide into the lock and turn. There was a quiet click and a soft thud of the lock dropping on the ground. Sighing, he let the powers go and opened his eyes. Turning around, he saw that Sara had gotten to her feet, her face pale as she realized what he had done and what it meant.

“You’re…” she breathed, her eyes wide.

“Shh!” Martin hissed, glancing back out of the door. The guard hadn’t noticed. “Not until we’re safe. I’ll answer then, but only then.”

Sara blinked then slowly nodded her head. “Best escape,” she agreed, her voice quivering. “Are we going to get horses?”

“They don’t have any,” Martin sighed. “At least, I couldn’t feel any.” Sara opened her mouth to ask but clamped it shut again. He had promised her answers, she knew she could wait. “We’ll need to sneak out,” he said. “Make sure they don’t see us. We’ll be long gone before they realize we’ve escaped.”

“Lead away,” she whispered, still staring at him with awe. Sighing, Martin quietly opened the shed door and peered out. The guard was still eating. Motioning his sister to follow, he had her hide to the side of the hut as he put the lock back into place. Using his powers, he had the key float back and latch itself back onto the man’s belt. Together they snuck away. It was slow going as they dashed from shadow to shadow. Several times Martin threw his arm out to stop Sara, a moment later a few men walking where they should have been. At these times, the princess would just stare at him, probably wondering how he knew.

Just like I can’t understand their weaker powers, he thought as he pushed her forward, they can’t understand my stronger ones. It was going to be a long conversation he had with her later. One he was not looking forward to.

They had made it to the edge of the camp and into the forest when Sara started to visibly relax. She kept shooting glances at him, as if she was unsure that he really was there. Not that he could blame her. He did have trouble believing it himself. She opened her mouth to speak when he brought a finger to his mouth. Frowning, she snapped her mouth shut. She really wanted those answers.

The light from the camp fires were nearly lost to the forest when a horn vibrated in the air. Martin paused just a moment.

“Great,” he muttered, picking up the pace and grabbing Sara’s arm. “I hoped they’d wait a while longer.”

“We’ll escape, right?” she asked, looked worried back toward the camp.

“We should,” he muttered, stepping over a fallen log. “Even if I have to…”

Click.

It was a soft sound. Martin froze and looked down. His foot was on a nearly invisible string.

“Sara,” he said, not daring to move while she was near. He knew a trap when he saw one. “I want you to go on before me, until I tell you to stop.”

“What is it?” she whispered, glancing around in fear.

“Once I lift my foot,” he explained, helping her over the log and away from the string, “I’ll spring a trap. I don’t know what kind of trap it is yet. So until I do, I want you to stay away.” Sara looked as if she wanted to argue, but he shook his head. “I need to concentrate. I can’t do that if you’re in danger.” Swallowing, the princess nodded and walked away.

Martin followed the string with his eyes, along the ground, up the nearest tree, and up to the branch above. Above his head were darts, covered in what looked like a light blue dust. “Great,” he muttered. “Nightmare Dust.” Why hadn’t they destroyed the formula? Looking around on the ground, he spotted a likely rock that would hold the string down. Kneeling down, he reached for it, careful not to move his foot. He brought it back and slowly put it down next to his foot. Once it was in place, he lifted his foot, watching the string. It stayed still. Breathing out a small sigh of relief, he started forward.

Twinge.

Martin leapt forward, trying to dodge the darts. He hissed in a breath as he felt something hit his leg. Falling on the ground, he turned over and saw a dart stuck in his calf.

“Great,” he muttered, pulling the dart out. It was the only one, but he knew what it meant. He was poisoned with Nightmare Dust.

“Martin?” Sara asked, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, looking worried. “Are you alright?”

“Probably not,” he grunted, getting to his feet. He didn’t know how long until the poison took him, he could already feel it in his blood, making his movements slow, but he would keep going until he was gone. “Let’s go.”

“But, Martin,” Sara said, looking back at the trap. “They’re going to catch up with us.”

“Likely.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Then,” he grumbled, “we’ll just have to escape again. Let’s keep moving!”

It wasn’t long before the poison started eating away at the edge of his vision. He stumbled through the undergrowth, his limbs too slow to actually react. He hadn’t made it more than a couple hundred feet before he tripped over a root and fell on the ground.

“Martin!” Sara exclaimed, dropping to his side as he tired to push himself up to his hands and knees. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Nightmare Dust,” he groaned, more than half his vision gone. He should have already been under. A small horrified gasp from his sister told him that she knew what he was talking about. “Sara. Go on. Find help. I can’t…”

“I’m not leaving!” she said stubbornly. She then gulped. “You’re my brother.” He could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“It won’t do either of us any good if we’re both caught,” he tried to snap, his strength draining out of him. He could almost feel the strikes on his back, the pain as his back was ripped open. He shivered. Not again. I don’t want to live that again!

“You need to go,” he said through his gritted teeth. “Save yourself…” He looked up with what vision he had when he felt water splash on his face. It had started raining. It had rained the last time he was poisoned. The land knew he was in pain. He turned to give Sara an order to leave, but she wasn’t looking at him, but into the forest, away from the enemy camp. Suddenly she stood.

“Over here!” she yelled, waving her arms wildly. “We’re over here!”

Someone carrying a torch burst through the undergrowth. Even with his failing vision, he knew a Ghost uniform when he saw one. What are they doing here? he wondered, collapsing to his side. But it didn’t matter why they were there. They were safe.

“I’ve found them!” the Ghost called behind him. Soon they were surrounded by Ghosts. Sara had been dragged away by a few of them, her protests unheard as they took her away. Martin’s vision was almost gone when someone knelt next to him, turning him over so he faced the sky. But another’s face obscured what vision he had.

“Martin” Fred asked, worried. “Are you alright?”

Martin chuckled weakly, knowing he only had a few moments left before the poison took him. “I doubt it…. Nightmare Dust…” The last thing he saw was Fred’s horrified face.
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Fred ordered the majority of his Ghosts to attack the enemy camp, trying to ignore Martin’s sudden screams. He had received word of a phantom Venter unit wandering around the Raven Pass and he with his Ghost had come to investigate. It was while he was at the army outpost that he learned that Princess Sara was due to arrive any day. Fearful for the princess, he and his Ghost had set out to find the phantom unit or the princess before either crossed paths. He had been expecting the princess and the unit, but not her guide. Not Martin.

He hadn’t expected Nightmare Dust either.

Martin’s screams rented the air, the pain in his screams cutting everyone to hear. Fred was glad that it was raining heavily now, hiding his tears as he and a few select Ghosts carried the Alex away. These Ghosts were usually thought as heartless, but by the time they reached their temporary base, a farm house, they were grim in the face. Fred had explained to them about what Nightmare Dust did and that the Alex was reliving his own person nightmare. They were very solemn as they put Martin into one of the house’s guest room, the one actually meant for Fred to stay in. A healer was quick to arrive and Fred gave the man strict instructions on how to treat their fallen spy, explaining how there was no cure and what had to be done to Martin to keep him from hurting others or himself. Even the healer looked grim about it.

With a tired sigh, Fred went looking for Notment. The queen’s former advisor had come to the area after his mother-in-law had died and had just attended the funeral a couple days ago. When he had heard that the princess would soon be arriving, he offered to stay close and travel with her once she was ready to leave. He had eventually found the man walking out of another guest room, his face pale.

“Well?” Fred asked, glancing at the door Notment closed. “How is her highness?”

“She’s full of royal indignation,” Notment commented with a weak chuckle. “She insists that she sees Martin.”

“He just saved her life,” Fred pointed out. “But I cannot allow it. He’s been poisoned with Nightmare Dust. He deserves to suffer in private.”

“Try telling her that,” Notment grumbled. He bowed briefly. “If you’ll excuse me. I’d like to get something to drink before I retire.” The thin man shuffled away, rubbing the side of his head. Fred shook his head. There had been a time when Notment was one of the most brilliant men of their time. Now he just looked worn.

I still have work to do, he thought with a sigh. Even though he was mostly on the move these days, he still had a lot of paperwork to attend to, his large stack found in a tent outside in the pouring rain. Knowing that he didn’t have anything better to do, he braved the storm, wondering where it had come from. It had come suddenly and without warning. While it wasn’t unheard of such storms here at Raven Pass, it was a little depressing.

“Sir,” said one of his Ghosts, walking up and saluting. “I’ve come to report that we’ve captured most of the Venter unit. They aren’t willing to talk yet.”

“Then let’s keep them in this rain until they do,” Fred grumbled, wiping the water off his face. “Anything else?”

“You should get some rest,” the Ghost said, smiling slightly. “You look exhausted.”

You don’t know the half of it. “I’ve got a few things to finish first,” Fred said, waving the man off. “I promise to rest later. You’re dismissed.” The Ghost rolled his eyes but walked away. His Ghosts knew there really was no point in arguing when it came to his sleeping habits. He did have a lot to do before resting.

Coming to his work tent, Fred rushed in and quickly tied the tent door closed, stopping the rain from coming in. The rain pattered on the tent roof as he came to his temporary desk, a large crate that used to be filled with supplies. Slowly sinking onto his chair, he quietly cursed his stiff knee. There had been a time when he would have shrugged off an injury, but his aging body now came with aches and pains. He lit the candle and began thumbing through the letters delivered that day, dividing them up in piles of important, less important, deal with later, and complete discard. He didn’t bother opening any of them until he came across a very familiar handwriting style.

“Commander Gillian,” he muttered, ripping the letter open and wondering what the prison commander of Evan’s Stand wanted with him. That’s right, he thought as he unfolded it. Martin warned me that he had written a letter. He had told the Alex that it might take months for the letter to find him and it seemed to have finally done so.

His breath caught as he read the first line, he stopped breathing by the second. By the time he was done, he was numb, shocked, and still. He glanced upward toward the farmhouse. Toward Martin.

“Oh, Martin,” he breathed, tears coming to his eyes. “Why didn’t I see?”
**********
Notment wandered back to his room, the last guest room in the farmhouse. The owners of the home were happy to allow the Ghost General and him to sleep in the house while the Ghosts set up tents outside. They were even more thrilled to hear when the princess would also be staying with them. They had wanted to give up their own rooms to help room some of the other Ghosts, but the general would not allow it.

With a tired sigh, he unlocked his room and stepped inside. Dealing with Princess Sara had always been hard, but there was something more intense in her this time. She really wanted to see Martin. Closing the door, he thought wistfully of his own bed back in Nacre.

WHAM!

Notment gasped out as he hit the wall, strong hands shoving him into the wall. A very angry face came within inches of his, the dark blue eyes flashing with anger.

“You knew!” the man hissed, tears streaming down his angry face. “You knew who Martin was!”

Notment swallowed hard, shivering. Now he had upset all of the Santers.

“Jonathan,” he started to say when he was slammed into the wall again, forcing the air from his lungs.

“No, Notment!” he cried, his grip loosening. “You knew Martin was my son.” Jonathan Santer began to cry, his hands now trying to hold himself up from his grief. Notment could only stare at his crying monarch, uncertain what to say.

Not many knew of the king’s secret identity, a character the king had developed in his childhood when being the only heir started to become a strain. Fred Chief was the name he came up with when he roamed the streets of Nacre, playing with other kids his age without having to worry about his place in politics. When he had grown up, he kept the persona, occasionally sneaking out on adventures he would rather the public not know of. It was Notment’s opinion that it was healthy for the king to have a chance to walk away from the responsibilities of the throne, if only for a bit. Not even the queen knew of Jon’s sometimes double life. In truth, it had saved his life.

At the battle of Fort Bree, when the war had started nearly three years ago, the king had been shot in the leg and counted among the wounded. When the Venter soldiers had asked for his name, Jonathan had known enough to not reveal his real name. Instead he told them he was Fred Chief and they let him go. He kept the charade up since, knowing that while the enemy thought he was dead Terk wouldn’t hunt him down. Notment, however, knew just how hard it was for the king to keep up his cover, especially with news of his family nowadays.

“My son,” Jonathan continued to cry, shaking his head. “You knew he was my son…”

Notment didn’t know what to say. This pain the king showed was real. “What could I have said?” he whispered. “How could I say that the street urchin was really the crown prince? Who would have believed me?”

“I was so blind,” the king sighed, finally shedding fewer tears. “All those years I spent watching over him. I knew he was special… I knew he was different… Why didn’t I see?”

“His powers were blocked,” Notment offered when the king slammed his fist into the wall beside his face.

“That’s not an excuse!” he roared. “I should have seen!” He glared at him, those deep blue eyes full of anger and sorrow. “And you should have told me. You should have told me when I brought him to Nacre.”

Notment shivered. He had already accepted this fate, once he realized that Martin wouldn’t forgive him. He knew the king and queen would be less forgiving than their son. “I accept my exile,” he whispered, closing his eyes to keep the tears. “I just ask that my wife remains.”

“Oh no,” Jonathan hissed. “I won’t be so kind as to exile you. From this moment on, you are no longer under the employment of the Aeternan government. You will spend the rest of your life banished from Nacre. Live here, become a farmer, I don’t care. But you will never set foot in the capital again.” Notment paled. The king knew he didn’t like to be outside the capital. He was a city creature, born and breed.

“I..” he stuttered, “I accept.”

“Good,” the king darkly, finally letting him go. “I don’t want to see your face ever again. Understood?”

Notment bowed his head. “I…understand.” The king snorted and walked out, slamming the door as he left. Notment sank to his knees, sobbing.
***********
Now, how many of you were expecting that twist? I knew who Fred really was the entire time; this is not something my characters randomly thrust at me when I was typing. It’s been a lot of fun writing Fred scenes knowing about the truth. I giggled a lot. I’m a little sad that his secret is out and that I don’t have that secret pleasure anymore. Oh, well, I have other secret pleasures to enjoy.

Things have been set into motion and things are going to start running now. Martin’s life will never be the same again. Enjoy the journey!