“I’m the Crown Prince”

Letting out a slow deep breath. The time has come for this post. I believe I’ve told you that I’ve had Martin’s story in my head for the last ten years. Meaning, if you’ve met me in the last ten years, Martin has been there, lurking in my thoughts and developing. My first attempt at writing down his story was when I was fifteen, when I sat down in my camp chair at Mormon Bend camp ground in the Sawtooth mountains, next to a river, and started writing in an old notebook my sister gave me (the cover, by the way, was Star Wars, and said “May the Force be with you”). I would be horrified to show that story now.

But ten years of lurking has changed Martin’s story. A lot. The original story was the backbone of the one you read today, though I did have to chuck out a lot of unnecessary bones to find that backbone. Then I started adding other bones, muscles, heart, brain, guts, organs, and personality to create this final version.

The reason why I’ve been going on about the development of Martin’s life is because this next scene, through all the changes, editing, and redoes, has remained. Oh, yes, I still had to add things, make the writing better, but the sequence of events, the players, the things said, they all remain basically the same.

The time has come to give you this original scene. I won’t tell you to enjoy it; you probably won’t like it. To the story and the scene that will change everything.
***********
The next day Martin rode back down Raven Pass. His Rowan had returned the night before when he had called. He was glad his horse was elven and would come when he called. He would have left then but the healer had forbidden it, saying that he needed at least another night’s rest after his poisoning. Not wanting to cause a scene, he obeyed and waited for the next morning.

When he did leave, Sara hugged him again and said nothing as he rode away. Martin found himself constantly looking back until she was out of view. She had promised him that she would have the court ready for him when he finally did return.

And then there was Fred’s farewell. It had been the night before, when Sara had finally left his room. It was then that he learned the reason why the Ghosts were at this pass.

“You might want to warn the queen about the Venterans in the area,” Fred suggested. “I don’t want her to be caught off guard.”

Martin figured that the news of Venterans in the area would be a dim light once he revealed himself to her.

The ride back to the Grelend estates was much like it was a few days before. The sun was shining again, farmers out working in the endless fields. Even the town hadn’t changed much, though the circus was gone and that did seem to make the town more boring. Not that he expected anything exciting, but he wished to see something a bit abnormal, if only to distract him from what he was going to be doing.

When he arrived to the mansion that evening, he found both Thomas and Luke waiting for him in the stables.

“Glad you’re back,” Luke said, holding Rowan’s reigns as he dismounted. “Things have been a bit boring without you.”

“Not for the lack of trying on his part,” Thomas added, grinning. Martin tried to grin back as he pulled his bag off of the saddle. His friends caught his mood.

“Is something wrong?” Luke asked, leading Rowan to his stall. “Did the princess try to flirt with you?”

“If only it were that simple,” Martin sighed. “Several things did happen though. Keep an eye out for Venterans.”

“Why?”

“Because Sara and I happened across about a hundred of them coming over Raven Pass,” he explained. “We got away fine and some Ghosts caught them, but Fred warned me that there might be more.”

“Great,” Thomas grumbled. “Security is already tight. Once the queen hears this news she’s going to be frantic.”

“Oh,” Martin said lamely, taking Rowan’s saddle off. “I’m sure she’ll have something else to occupy her mind.”

His friends paused, giving each other confused looks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke asked, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

Martin sighed, placing the saddle on the stall wall and leaning against it. “Fred made me promise to tell the queen the truth when I came back.”

They blinked. “Reveal yourself?” Thomas asked, digging his finger in his ear. “Did I hear right?”

“How would Fred know?” Luke asked.

“Commander Gillian told him in a letter,” Martin explained. “He told me that I couldn’t hide this any longer. I promised I’d say…” He cringed; he was not looking forward to this. “Would you mind taking care of Rowan for me? I’ve... I’ve got to get this over with before I loose my nerves.”

Walking out before they could stop him, he left them in their stupor. The mansion was just like it had always been. Servants running around getting their chores done, listed men walking to class, in class, or talking with others, guards making random patrols. Martin felt disconnected from them.

I should be happy, he thought to himself, coming to the queen’s office. He was going to be reunited with his mother…

Then why do I feel like I’m facing my execution?

He knew there was a man and his wife inside, their interview with the queen. To be polite, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. As he knew it would be, the couple sat across the desk from the queen, looking up in surprise as he walked in. Abigail herself was a bit surprised, either from his knocking or that he arrived a day early, he couldn’t say.

“Welcome back,” Abigail said, quickly regaining her composure. Martin wondered how long that was going to last. Her attention was returned to the couple. “I’m sorry for cutting this short, but I would like to talk to him about his errand.”

“It’s no bother,” the wife said, smiling. “Another time, perhaps?”

The queen returned her smile. “Of course. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” The couple slipped past Martin, walking at a quick pace. The wife was chastising her husband for his lack of manners, but Martin didn’t really notice. He wished they had taken longer in their farewells.

“You look like you’ve just rode in,” the queen said, eyeing his dust covered clothes. “I trust that Sara is safely on her way.”

“She is,” he reported, wondering how he was going to tell her the truth. Best to get it over with before he lost his nerve. He took a deep breath. “There is something, however, that I need to tell you.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs. He sat down, trying not to fidget, but the queen noticed. “What is it?” she asked, sounding a little concerned. “Something wrong with Sara?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s fine. It’s…” He stopped. This was harder than he thought it was going to be. He had played out this conversation a million times as he rode back from Raven Pass, but he still found it hard to find the words he decided to bring up first. “I… I lied about where I found the Connection.”

Abigail frowned, her concern switching to suspicion. This was not a topic she had been expecting from him at this time. “Then,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing. He could tell that she was thinking he had deliberately kept information about the prince from her. Truthful enough. “Where did you find it?”

“I… didn’t.”

The queen froze, her eyes wide. Martin took a deep breath. It was out. No turning back. He had to explain.

“I’ve had that glove as long as I can remember,” he confessed quickly, staring at his knees, too ashamed about his deception to actually face the queen. “Even on the streets of Loman… I didn’t know what it was until you found it in the bag.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how it got in there. I could have sworn that it wasn’t in there when I gave it to Suit.”

“Martin…” she said, the sound of her getting out of her chair distinct. “Are… are you saying…”

He took one last deep breath before lifting his head and staring into her shocked face. “I’m your son.”

Abigail collapsed back into her chair, her hand covering her mouth. Martin could feel her raging emotions. Shock, surprise, wonder… For a moment there was doubt, but it was quickly replaced with trust. She knew he wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“Say something,” he begged, her silence nearly breaking him.

She shook her head, her mouth open though no words came out. “How can I?” she breathed, staring at him with new understanding. “I don’t know where…”

“You’re in danger! RUN!”

Martin leapt to his feet, immediately opening himself up to the entire mansion. Something was wrong. Very wrong. In that instant, he knew what it was.

“Venterans,” he breathed, knowing that soldiers were coming for them.

“What?” Abigail asked, her emotions too raw to understand what he was saying. “I… don’t…”

“There was a Venter unit over the Raven Pass,” Martin explained quickly, glancing around the room for an exit other than the door. Who’s idea was it to have the queen’s office where there weren’t any windows? “I don’t know how they got here.”

Shouting outside the door made them both jump. Screams immediately followed. Abigail stood up. Her emotions now worried. “How did you know?”

“I can feel them,” he snapped. “They’re coming!” He froze. One was reaching for the door… “No!” he cried, flinging his arm towards the door. The sensation of power raced through his arm and out his fingers. The door locked and held as someone tried to crash through.

“Nice trick,” Abigail said, eyes wide as she felt the magic hold the door.

“I can’t hold it forever,” he grunted, already feeling the magic pull on him. “Tell me there is another way out of here.”

“The cabinet uncovers a secret passage,” she said, finally regaining her senses. She moved out from around her desk. “Can you hold it…?”

BANG!

Martin was thrown back, hitting the queen’s desk, and slumped to the ground. His outstretched hand caught something on her desk, a letter opener, and sliced open. He hissed as he held his hand, the blood seeping through his fingers. Looking up he saw General Terk standing in the doorway, satisfied with what he saw in the room.

General Terk was just as he remembered. Tall, black hair greased back, dark eyes that weren’t quite sane, a commanding presence, dressed in his military best, a chiseled face with a long straight nose, and his expression of superiority.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly to the queen. “I trust your day has been well?”

Martin turned his head to see that Abigail had managed to get back to her feet, her dress and hair a bit roughed from the explosion that opened the door. She held her head high, refusing to look at him on the floor. He knew that she refused to give Terk any clues about what she had just learned. Even checking to make sure he was alright. “It was,” she replied frostily. “Then you showed up.”

“Forgive me for my unexpected arrival,” Terk chuckled, gesturing to the hall outside. “But I thought it might be better for you to be surprised.”

“Surprised is hardly the word,” she said through gritted teeth. “Angry is more like it.”

“Perhaps,” Terk agreed, finally looking down at him. Martin stared back, feeling himself start shaking with anger. This man was the one responsible for his face changed, why he had lived on the streets, why he now had to understand powers. “I remember you,” Terk said, frowning. “You were that spy at Fort Pinewood…”

“Actually,” said a voice behind Terk. The person who spoke entered the room, stepping over scraps of wood. Martin recognized the man, a former servant who was revealed to be a spy from the girl they caught. “He’s a Ghost. Name is Martin.”

“Ghost?” Terk mussed, thoughtfully looking down at him along his long nose. “Suit understaffed these days? Doesn’t surprise me. You must tell me how you managed to escape. You have no idea how frustrating it was when we couldn’t find you.”

“He’s also on the list,” the spy added, grinning. Terk raised an eyebrow.

“Truly? Well, then we must get him to the others.” Snapping his fingers, two other guards dressed in Aeternan uniforms barged into the room. Terk pointed at him. “Put him with the others,” he ordered. “And be extra careful. Ghosts can be tricky.”

Martin couldn’t protest as they walked over to him, roughly grabbed his arms, and yanked him up. They half dragged him away. Martin looked back briefly at the queen, seeing her face pale before he out of the office.

He didn’t fight as they took him away. His training kicked in as he thought over the situation. It was useless to try to fight the two men who had him. While they wore Aeternan uniforms, he knew they weren’t Aeternans. He also didn’t know what else was happening throughout the mansion. He could tell there was panic, worry, fear. But…

Where are our normal guards?

They took him to the ballroom and threw him inside. Martin stumbled as he regained his balance, glaring at the door as it slammed shut. Turning around, he looked around the ballroom. The room hadn’t been used much since Grelend agreed to house the men. Security had to be kept and that meant no parties, much to the neighbors’ disappointment. It was a large room, with a raised stage at one end. There was a balcony above the grand staircase where the band usually played. Now it housed archers with their arrows pointed at those below, ready to fire.

It seemed that Terk was determined to get everyone into the room. Servants, listed men, even a few townsmen were stuffed inside. Martin hoped that there weren’t going to be many more people thrown in. It was crowded as it was.

Checking his hand, he saw that he managed to slow the bleeding but it hadn’t stopped yet. Pressing his other hand on the wound, he snaked through the crowd, searching for his friends. It would only make sense that they would have been caught as well. He found them standing near the stage. His tent mates were also with them. Sona had her back to him when Thomas noticed him and pointed him out. She spun around and gasped when she saw his bloodied hands.

“What happened?” she asked, quickly taking his hand and checking his wound. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“We ran into some Ghosts who agreed to take the princess the rest of the way,” Martin said, flinching as she pulled on the wound. “I was in the queen’s office when they captured us.”

“They’ve captured the queen?” Jordan asked, paling.

“This needs washed,” Sona muttered.

“We don’t have water,” Luke pointed out.

“Then we’ll need to at least bind it,” she snapped. Squatting down, she took the hem of her dress and ripped a strip off. Jordan turned away, his face suddenly turning red while Var watched excitedly. However, the strip she ripped off wasn’t much and when she stood back up, the new hem barely showed her ankles, much to the glassmith’s disappointment. She wrapped the cloth around his hand, tying it tightly.

“Thanks,” he muttered, getting his hand back.

“So what are we going to do?” Calvin asked, eyeing the archers in the musicians nest. “I assume you sp…” He stopped, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “You have an escape plan?”

Martin shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t even know how this happened. I just got back less an hour ago.”

“I think I know,” Luke said. “Today Commander Bentley was called out to the outer army. Some disciplinary problems. While he was gone, our guards were replaced. Normal procedure that I could figure.” He hesitated. “But I didn’t recognize them. I didn’t think of it, though. They’re always replacing the guards. I couldn’t keep track of everyone.”

“They aren’t Aeternans,” Martin said darkly. “Fred warned me that there have been a few Venter units moving in this area. He suspected that they were trying to find us.”

“Well,” Var snorted. “They’ve found us. What are we going to do now?”

“We are too many to escape,” Martin mused. “If one of us could get out and warn Bentley what has happened…”

“You should go,” Luke immediately said, his face grim. “You have the best chance. I mean…” He paled, realizing something. “Did you manage to tell the queen…?”

Martin cringed. “She knows.”

Sona frowned, looking at both of them. “She knows what?”

Martin sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to tell her too.

“Knows what?” Sona insisted, now looking at him. The guilt must have been on his face because she suddenly gasped, her eyes wide. Her emotions hit him. She finally figured it out. Taking a step back, she shook her head. “You’re…” She shook, anger slowly taking her. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“Sona,” he tried say, the regret easily heard in his voice. He tried to take her hands, but she slapped his hands away.

“When, Martin?” she snapped, her eyes flashing.

“Today,” he said softly, his shoulders slumping. “I swear! I was going to tell you today after I talked with the queen.” The pretty researcher shook her head. Disbelief, anger, and pain flittered across her features as she took another step back. His tent mates watched the exchange, completely confused.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

“A long story,” he sighed. “Now is not the time to relate it…”

The grand doorway burst open and Terk swept into the room. Behind him the queen walked, her head held high. She wasn’t tied, but there were two large men in Aeternan uniforms who flanked her, guards so she wouldn’t escape. The crowd hushed into silence, a few sniffles heard throughout the room. They parted at Terk headed the small party to the raised stage. Once they were on the stage, a wood theater throne was brought up and the queen forced to sit. She glared at the two men who kept a hand on her shoulders. Satisfied, the Mad General turned to the audience.

“Welcome,” he said, grinning down at them. “I am assuming most of you know who I am and why I am here.” He snapped his fingers. One of the spies they had caught rushed up onto the stage, holding…

“This glove,” Terk said, holding aloft the Connection, “belongs to a man here. I want that man who does to step forward.”

“He may not know who he is,” Abigail snapped, her frame ridged.

“I don’t think so,” Terk said softly, though his voice carried over their heads. “My mages assure me that your son has been using his unblocked powers. Deliberately. He wouldn’t be using it if he didn’t know who he was.”

Abigail started to argue when Luke leaned in close to Martin’s ear.

“I have a poison on me,” he whispered. “If I could get close enough to Terk, I can bring him down.”

“Luke,” Martin hissed, barely paying attention to the argument on the stage. “That’d be suicide. He won’t let you get that close.”

Luke winked, giving him a wide grin. “I’ve got to provoke him to letting me close.” He strolled for the stage, a confident bounce in his step.

“Luke!” Martin tired to urge back, but his friend wasn’t listening. He went to grab the tall spy when Thomas and Sona were at his sides, pulling him back.

“It’s the best plan we have,” Thomas whispered in his ear. “We can’t let Terk get you.” Martin glared at the duke but stopped struggling. He still thought it was a bad idea but Luke did have the best chance at killing Terk.

“Hey, you!” the tall spy said, pointing up to Terk on the stage. The Mad General stopped arguing with the queen to frown down at him. “Yeah,” Luke said, slipping into an underclass accent, “I’m talkin’ ta you! Think you’re gonna git away with this? Threatenin’ our queen? Our prince? I’ve got some news for ya! We’re Aeternans and we ain’t takin’ your crap!”

A cheer slowly roared through the crowd. Martin knew their emotions. Most of them were still scared, but Luke’s words sparked their fire. He stared those around him, stunned by their willingness to fight. No, he thought, you don’t want to fight for me… You don’t know me…

I’m the one who is supposed to fight for you.

“Oh?” Terk asked, glaring down at the tall spy. Luke leaned against the stage, grinning. “You think you can take me and my army?”

“Why not?” he asked, smirking. “Shouldn’t be too hard ta take ya. Considerin’ that ya don’t know how ta do a proper fightin’.” There were laughs and ooh’s over his comment. Luke looked very proud of himself.

“Very well,” Terk said, his tone low. He snapped his fingers. “Bring that man up here!”

Two guards appeared and grabbed Luke by the arms. The tall spy made a good show at protesting their “manhandlin’” as they brought up onto the stage. Terk had his back to the spy, his arms folded across his chest.

“Very brave of ya,” Luke taunted, yanking himself free of the two men. He casually rubbed his hands together, slipping the poison dart out from his sleeve. “Yur back turned on an enemy. Too afraid ta deal with a real man?”

Terk spun around, whipping his sword out, and rammed it into Luke’s stomach. The tall spy gasped in shock, slowly looking down at the blade. Terk pulled it from him and blood blossomed on his shirt. Luke collapsed on the ground. With a look of disgust, the Mad General kicked Luke off the stage. The spy landed with barely a cry face first.

“NO!” Martin screamed. He felt that blade in his own stomach! He ran for his friend, dropping to his knees beside him.

“Let that be a lesson to the rest of you!” Terk snapped, pointing his bloody sword down at Luke. “I will kill anyone who tries to oppose me!”

Martin wasn’t listening. He turned Luke over, reaching for the gut wound. “No,” he breathed, tears coming to his eyes. It was a wound that would kill Luke. “No… No!”

“Martin,” Luke coughed, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. He tried to smile up at him. “This isn’t your fault…” Martin shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have gone up,” he whispered through his clogged throat. “I should have stopped you.”

“No,” Luke chuckled, turning into a cough. “You shouldn’t. I accepted this… Not your fault… Remember me, will you? I expect a kid named after me…” He sighed, the life fleeing him. “Not your fault…” His eyes slid closed, his last sigh almost inaudible. Martin stared, horrified. He felt the life leave his friend’s body. Shaking, he looked at his hands, covered in his friend’s blood.

“No,” he whispered, too numb to even register what was happening around him. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…”

Above on the stage, Terk was shouting again. There were people crying, there were screams. Martin lowered his friend’s body, his frame now shaking. Not from sorrow. But from anger. Slowly standing up, he glared up at Terk. The Mad General was waving that bloody sword around, ranting about something.

Martin’s feet moved without him thinking about it. Before he could stop himself he was on the stage, the guards too busy fighting off the crowd. Terk turned around only when he got close, too late seeing his arm pulled back.

POW!

Terk was sprawled on the ground, holding a broken nose. Martin’s fist ached from impact, but he didn’t care. He had to act now! He drew his arm back for another blow.

Guards were suddenly on him, pinning him to the ground. Martin tried to fight back, but there were too many. They soon held him down, knees bent underneath him, twisting his arms behind his back. He struggled against their hold, but they kept him from moving any more than an inch.

“Brat!” Terk spat. The Venter general had gotten to his feet and was holding his nose, stemming the flow of blood. “I’ll make you pay for that!” He turned to the audience.

“I’ll give the prince one last chance to come out!” Terk yelled. “If you don’t come out, I will kill every man, woman, and child in this room!” Martin froze, the meaning of Terk’s words finally piercing through his anger. Looking out over the crowd, he saw women weeping, men holding their wives protectively. The fight Luke had instilled in them had vanished the moment he was killed. In his mind’s eye, Martin saw blood on all of them. Their blood. On his hands.

“No,” he breathed.

“I’ll count to three,” Terk was saying. “Then I’ll kill someone else. One!”

“No,” Martin whispered. This couldn’t be happening.

“Two!”

“No.” It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

“THREE!”

“NO!” Martin yelled. “I’m the crown prince!”

Terk froze. Slowly turning around, the realization lit his eyes. “What?” he asked softly.

“I’m the prince!” Martin snapped, glaring up at the Mad General. “Me! Martin Santer! I’m the one you want! Leave these people alone!”

“Bring his right hand forward,” Terk ordered. Martin grunted as the guards twisted his hand forward. Terk knelt down and put the glove on his right hand. As always, it fit perfectly.

“It is you,” Terk breathed, grinning. “Only the Santer can wear their Connection…” Martin’s other hand tingled uncomfortably. Terk noticed his brief glance at his other hand.

“Remove that bandage,” the general ordered. The guards did so. Martin couldn’t see what was happening, but he knew it. The cut he got earlier was closing up, healing. Those who stood close enough gasped in surprise, whispers spreading out behind them.

Terk stood up, laughing. “He is the crown prince!” He laughed for a full minute before claming down. Still grinning, he looked down his long nose at him. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“I bet,” Martin snapped. “Too bad that I’ve always got away, now isn’t it?”

The laughter in Terk’s expression vanished, replaced by anger. “Not this time.” He spun his sword around and hit him on the side of the head with the hilt. Martin dropped to the ground, everything suddenly black.
*************
“NO!” Abigail screamed, watching as they dropped Martin. Her son had been knocked unconscious. She tried to rush to him, but her guards held her back, trying to force her back into the wooden throne. “Leave him alone!”

“I don’t think so,” Terk growled, half turning to her. He still held his nose, blood dripping onto his shirt. He snapped his fingers. Another man came to the stage, holding…

“The Inhibitor,” Abigail breathed. The last time she had seen one was nearly a year before, when she was told that Martin had recovered something of worth to the Santers from a Venter war camp. It was a small silver ball with no seams. They were going to block his powers again!

“Don’t touch him!” she yelled, trying to yank free of her captors. “He hasn’t done anything to deserve this!”

“I’d beg to differ,” Terk snapped. He turned to the other man. “Block him,” he ordered, jerking his head to where Martin lay unconscious. The man nodded and knelt down next to her son. He fiddled with the ball for a moment before touching it against Martin’s gloved hand. Martin jerked violently. Abigail felt tears on her face as she watched the ball glow as the magic followed out of her son into it. After a minute, the man pulled the ball away and Martin lay still once again.

“Get to work on that,” Terk said, kneeling down and ripping the glove off of Martin’s hand, then stood up. “I want a permanent block on him.”

“It may destroy his mind,” the man said, taking the glove.

“I don’t care,” Terk snapped. “I want it done!” The man bowed quickly and left the stage.

“No!” she yelled. “Leave him alone!” Terk ignored her cries, ordering instead one of his men to pick the prince up. The large man lifted Martin up and swung him up over his shoulder. Motioning them to follow, Terk led the way back through the crowd. Abigail weakly fought as they made her follow after, her eyes focused on Martin. He was limp over the man’s shoulder, his head bobbing. The crowd parted as they walked through them, disbelieving stares, tear streaked faces, heads shaking. No one tried to stop them.

When they reached the door, the guards stood waiting for them. Terk stood by and watched satisfied as Martin was carried out. When she came to the door, he held up a hand and stopped her.

“I don’t think we should bring the queen along,” Terk said, smirking. “We have no purpose for her anymore. Leave her.” The guards holding her shoved her into the crowd. Hands were quick to grab her out of her fall. Abigail pushed them away and rushed for the door.

“No!” she screamed, watching the doors close on Terk’s smiling face. It shut with a boom. She slammed into the door, banging her fists against the wood.

“Leave him alone!” she yelled, her initial strength giving out. She could only weakly pound on it now. Sobbing, she slid to the floor, banging her head against the door.

“No,” she sobbed. “Leave him alone.”

They had taken her son again and she couldn’t do anything.
***********
I’m sorry Luke. The only reason I created you was to kill you.