The Volcano

Hello everyone! I’m glad that you were all patient with waiting a day for the new post. I thoroughly enjoyed my time spent with family down in Farmington. I’m a well-loved aunt.

And congrats to Izzy for figuring out where Rollin Hand is from. He’s a character off of the original TV series Mission: Impossible. He’s a master of disguise. Your prize is another drawing I did, only this time, it has characters from the Child From Loman. Congrats again!

Now, to the story. I didn’t get much revisions done, but I figure everyone has waited long enough. Off to save Bone!
***************
Martin volunteered to help bring up the rear, along with Quentin, Art, and Irvin. As soon as the younger Peck told them about the tunnel, Martin decided that it was high time that he start feeling the land, and not just the emotions around him. Finding a secluded spot as the Ghosts organized the evacuation, he hesitantly reached for a different magic inside him.

It was a particular feeling, one he wasn’t sure he could explain. While emotions he understood, could feel as a second heartbeat, the land was something entirely different. It was almost like a stream, continuous and flowing. That wasn’t to say that it felt even. Some parts of the land, the fort and town he thought, felt detached from the land, a spin off. The farm land felt nourished. The mountain untamed. Even the roads… Those felt worn.

Martin pushed the distractions away. He was searching for the tunnel. Peck said that it was likely to cave-in and Martin was determined to keep that from happening. He had managed to lock doors, win games, and even keep that stable from collapsing on his and Hillard’s heads with his powers. Surely he could keep a tunnel from caving in.

After minutes of concentration, he finally found what he was looking for. It was a pocket of dead space in the stream of land, a long one that lead to an even bigger space up north. Focusing again, he sent his mind along its length, trying to find areas where the land felt weak. There were a few and Martin tried to let his magic flow into the weak spots. It nearly drained him by the time he fixed the bigger problem areas. Some people may have dirt fall on their heads, but no one would find either the roof on their heads or the floor missing beneath them.

It took until evening for the majority of the people to go through the tunnel. There were about thirty men left, standing guard on the wall so the enemy would see them. They were going to wait until after dark so they could light torches for the enemy to watch while they slipped away.

As the townsmen began lighting the torches, Martin joined Art, Irvin, and Quentin at the tunnel entrance. It wasn’t much, just a hole in the ground. The fort’s old cooking stove was over it, concealing the entrance.

“Why did they put it here?” Art asked, jumping down into the hole and stooping down to look down the tunnel.

“I suspect that some paranoid commander put it there,” Martin said, watching as Art briefly disappeared into the tunnel. “It’s not uncommon for old forts to have secret tunnels.”

“You’re very knowledgeable about old forts,” Irvin said suspiciously.

“Of course he is,” Art said, popping up. “He grew up in one. Not to mention he studied Aeternan history.”

“Sirs,” saluted one of the townsmen, the rest of them trying to file into the small kitchen. “Torches are lit and we’re ready to go.”

“Right,” Art said, pulling himself out of the hole. “Single file, go down and through. We’ll blow this end when you’re far enough away.”

The townsmen nodded and started down the hole. Irvin walked over to the stove, checking what was cooking on it. Like Thomas, the bald man liked to make explosives.

“Are you sure this is going to do the trick?” Quentin asked, scrunching his face as he smelled the concoction.

“Of course I am,” Irvin snorted, sounding offended. “It’s an old and true recipe my grandmother gave me. Smear it on the thing you wish to destroy, get a long wick, light, and there you have instant explosion."

“Aren’t they going to hear it?” Martin asked, a bit unimpressed. Thomas had better explosions.

“Doubt it,” Art laughed, jumping down into the hole again. “I’ve seen that stuff at work before. Everything else would be fine. Is it done yet?”

“Yep,” Irvin said, grinning as he took the pot off the stove. “Let’s go.”

Once they were in the tunnel, Quentin used a lever to bring the stove back over the entrance. Irvin began to smear the pasty liquid on the walls as Art started laying out the wick. Martin had to pull Quentin away from the soon to be destroyed section of the tunnel.

Irvin tossed the pot toward the entrance and joined them. Art held up the wick. “Your pleasure?” he asked, holding it out for Irvin. The bald man grinned.

“Of course.” He lit the wick and dropped it. They watched as the flame approached the goop on the walls…

Whoosh!

Martin covered his eyes with his arm as the wall of dust hit them. When it cleared enough to see, he was surprised to see that the tunnel had collapsed with such a quiet sound.

“There,” Irvin said, beaming. “Maybe next time you won’t second guess my old granny’s recipes.”

“You need to meet Thomas,” Martin said, leading the way down the tunnel. “I’m sure the both of you will have a blast.”

“Literally!” Art laughed, slapping his thigh. “What’s happened to our Tommy boy anyway?”

“He’s the Duke of Dawson now,” Martin said offhandedly.

Art stopped, staring. “The Duke of Dawson? When did that happen? Did old Duke Louis go insane and name some unknown runaway as his heir?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Thomas has always been a Dawson. But his older brother was killed and his sister disowned. And after the queen found out about Louis’s drinking habits, she named Thomas as the duke.”

“Dang,” Art said, rubbing his head and looking amazed. “What’s next? You’re the prince?”

Martin didn’t feel obliged to answer that.

They reached the large cavern about an hour after they had left the fort. Martin gazed amazed at the cave. The cave wasn’t like any he had seen before. There were no smooth walls or pillars of minerals. The flickering light of torches revealed black jagged rocks that defined the cave opening, walls, and ceiling. The floor was reddish in color but still had the same sort of jagged look. The townspeople were carefully laying out thick blankets on the ground before settling down.

“Impressive?” Quentin asked proudly, grinning as he looked around the cavern. “Isn’t it?”

“What formed this cave?” Martin asked.

“A volcano.”

Martin paused and turned to the youth, frowning. “A volcano?”

Quentin nodded enthusiastically. “You may not know this, but the reason why we have such great farm land is because of all the volcano activity that happened thousand of years ago. That entire mountain is actually a volcano. At least, that’s what the professors say when they come to survey our lands.”

“Is the volcano still active?” he asked, a bit worried. These people were living in a dangerous place just so they could farm.

“Maybe,” Quentin said, shrugging. “I dunno. Those same professors say that it’s not active and we’re safe.”

Martin didn’t know what to think of that. Tentatively, he felt the magic of the land, searching for what Quentin described. He was shocked to find a hot liquid mass beneath their feet, slow and lethargic. But it was deep within the land. Martin nearly breathed out a sigh of relief. The professors were right. These people were in no immediate danger.

“Ghost Eighty-one!”

Martin groaned. “Excuse me,” he told Quentin and went in search of Dixon. The large Ghost had taken command after Hillard’s accident. He found him and the other Ghosts standing near the cave opening.

“Now that we’re all here,” Dixon said, rolling his eyes as Martin approached. “Down to business. We need to keep watch. I’d rather not trust the townsmen, so all of us will have to take turns during the night. I don’t want to be caught unaware again.”

“What will we do if the Venterans find us?” Clary asked, glancing out to the night.

“We’re just going to have to hope they don’t,” Dixon sighed. “I’m hoping they don’t.”

“Then we shouldn’t let people out of the cave,” Martin said.

“Why?”

Martin shrugged. He knew the emotions of these people. While what he said was true, that most of them would rather die fighting, there was a small number that rather surrender. “Because then there won’t be any tracks for them to find us here.”

“Point,” Art said, grinning. “You were always a smart fellow.”

“Then the smart fellow has first watch,” Dixon snorted. “Ask some townsmen to help if you want. I don’t care. Just don’t let anyone in or out of this cave.”
***************
Martin was jostled out of his sleep. He immediately reached for his arm knives when his eyesight focused on Art’s concerned face.

“What is it?” he asked, carefully sitting up. Once his watch was over, he had traded sleeping places with Clary, the Ghost assigned after him. There must have been a rock in the small of his back because he woke up feeling sore.

“They’ve found us.”

Martin froze. “Found us? How?” He scrambled to his feet.

“We’re not sure yet,” Art said, moving quickly toward the entrance where the other Ghosts were gathered with the mayor. “But they’re coming.”

“I told you!” Peck hissed, shivering. “This was a bad plan. We should have never listened to you Ghosts. We should have surrendered when we had a chance!”

Martin climbed up into the cave opening, a crack in the earth, really. In the soft morning light, he looked down at the large unit forming ranks on the rocks they had been holding all night and begin marching for the cave. The fort had a large hole in the west wall. They knew the townspeople had escaped. He sat down on the edge of the opening, thinking fast. What could they have done differently? They couldn’t fight that force in the fort and their cavern wasn’t any better.

“Surrender?” Irvin asked, sounding horrified. “To them? They’d kill the men and rape the women! Those men are trained in the art of harassment. They wouldn’t leave you alone if you surrendered.”

Aeterna, what am I supposed to do?

“Then you’ve just postponed the inevitable,” Peck snapped. There were tears in his voice. “We’re doomed.”

Aeterna, please. I need help!

“Are there any side tunnels?” Clary asked desperately.

What can I do?

“None,” Peck sobbed. “The tunnel to the fort was man built. There are none others.”

There was no answer from the Spirit. Martin rubbed his eyes, feeling the dirt and grime from the last day on his face. It had said he was the one to help them. He was the control to power. He was the one who had to decide how to use it.

“Maybe this volcano should blow,” he heard Art remark quietly, trying and failing to use humor to defuse the tension. “That way, it’ll be over quickly and it’ll take out that unit out there too.”

“Volcano?” Martin whispered, remembering his conversation with Quentin. It was still active…. He felt that yesterday. Taking a deep breath, he searched again for that pocket of hot liquid. There was something there, however, that he hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just a pocket, there were veins of the same liquid spreading out from the pocket. One of them was close to the surface… near the approaching unit.

“Stevens!” Dixon snapped. “This is no time to give into despair! Now come down here and help us make a plan!”

Martin didn’t listen. He slapped his hands on the rocky ground, quivering as he thought about what he was going to do.

Oh, hiethery. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“It’s alright,” the Spirit finally answered. “We trust you.”

Martin wished the Spirit hadn’t told him that.

“Martin!” Dixon snapped again, marching up toward him. “I gave you an order!”

Martin flung one hand out to stop the large man, the power painfully leaving his fingers. Everyone gasped in surprise as the Ghost stopped in his tracks, feet away from him. He could feel the shock of those who watched.

I can’t think about them, he thought, focusing on that vein of lava.

“Leave me alone,” he whispered, closing his eyes tight. “I need to concentrate.” He pushed everything out of his mind, his thoughts only on that vein. He could feel that hot liquid inside him, struggling to get out of his control.

No! He held onto the power tightly, not letting anything out. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. The unit below had just left the town’s edge. Now was the best time. He forced the lava up.

The earth groaned under the pressure, shaking the earth and causing rocks to fall. Several people screamed. Martin cut those out as he kept pushing on the lava. Their only chance was to keep those soldiers from coming any closer.

Steam started hissing out from the cracks. Then dust burst into the air, the large plume obscuring the unit from sight. Martin could feel the pressure building in the ground, pressure he forced. It was going to…

BOOM!

Martin was flung back. He wasn’t sure who caught him, but several pairs of hands helped him to his feet. Glancing up to the cave opening, he saw both Dixon and Art gaze down the mountain in amazement. Martin knew what they were staring at. There was a flow of lava running between the harass unit and them. The lava was barely passing the town as it flowed down the mountain.

Art turned back, shocked. “How did you do that?” he asked.

Martin shrugged. He felt exhausted. He had overdone it. His vision was already going black on the edges. “You’d be surprised by what I can do.” He finally gave in to his exhaustion and blacked out.
**********
When Martin woke up again, he was staring at canvas of a tent. He groaned. That wasn’t what he last remembered seeing. Then he remembered what he had done before blacking out and he wanted to groan again. What a mess he had created.

“Alright,” he said, closing his eyes again. “Who has me now?”

“Why should anyone have you?” Art’s voice asked, sounding amused. “I don’t think many would take responsibility for you.”

“Let’s see,” Martin said, starting to relax. If Art was teasing him, then he shouldn’t be in too much danger. “In the last year, every time I’ve been knocked out and came to again, I’ve always been in the hands of the enemy.”

“That’s not a good track record,” Clary chuckled.

“Can’t be helped,” Martin sighed. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and sat up. He was on a cot in a tent with other cots. The other Ghosts were sitting on the ground, playing a card game. “So, what happened after I did black out?”

Dixon picked up a card and considered it. “You bought enough time for Chief to arrive with reinforcements. They took care of the Venter unit and everyone moved back into town.” He laid the card down and briefly glanced up. “We’re waiting for news about Hillard.”

Martin felt his stomach drop. In all the excitement he had forgotten about the Ghost coronal. He assumed that not much time had passed since he blew that vein of lava. His uniform was still covered in dust, but someone had been thoughtful enough to clean his face.

“You don’t have to wait any longer.” Everyone turned to see Fred enter their tent. The general looked worn from his hard ride, covered in dirt still. Fred locked eyes with Martin. “So, you’re awake finally.”

Martin shivered. Fred’s tone was tired. Something was seriously wrong if he greeted him like that.

“How bad is the damage?” Martin asked, worried.

“Not as bad as it could have been,” Fred sighed. He shifted on his legs; Martin knew the general would be in great pain since his knee did not like long rides. “The new lava flow missed the town and the majority of the fields, but I now have a mad mayor nipping at my heels and some Venter soldiers that need mending before I can do a prisoner exchange.” Martin flinched. Oh, yes, Fred was not happy.

“But I came here to tell you news about Hillard.” The general sighed again, finally sitting down on one of the cots, rubbing his knee. “The healer couldn’t save his leg.”

“What?” Art breathed, half rising off the ground. “They amputated his leg?”

“I’m afraid so,” Fred answered. “He’ll be waking in a few minutes. I’d like all of you to be there when he does.” He stood back up and herded them to the fort. Martin finally had a chance to look at his handiwork. He flinched as he saw the still cooling lava forming a ridge between the fort and west rocks.

I did that. He shivered. He knew he was powerful… but enough to do that? At that moment, he didn’t want to know what else he could do.

Fred took them to the building where they had been staying. There were several healers running around, moving between rooms. Martin knew instantly that they had converted the old fort into a temporary hospital. The general took them to the most isolated one, set apart from the regular quarters.

A healer walked out of a room, shaking her head. Fred approached the woman. “How is he?” he asked quietly.

“He’s stubborn,” she snorted. “He just woke up and wants to see all of you. I would like you to keep it a short visit, if you don’t mind. He needs his rest.”

“Don’t worry about me!” the coronal bellowed through the open door. “I was ready to retire anyway! This just gives glory to it!”

Fred nodded and then turned to them. “Come on,” he said, looking resigned. “Let’s get this over with.” The team exchanged glances again before following. The coronal sat up in a bed, a sheet covering his legs. Leg, Martin amended. The healers had cut above the knee and the depression where the leg should have been was painfully obvious.

“Oh, don’t look sorry!” Hillard ordered, throwing his hands up as if to brush aside the fact that he was now without a leg. “I told you. I needed to retire.”

“Just not in such a painful way,” Dixon sighed. He glanced around the room and spotted chairs. He dragged the chairs over and set them out to sit on.

“Bah,” Hillard snorted. “The Healers are keeping the pain away. Besides,” he looked at them with his stern eyes. “We have some decisions to make.” The other Ghosts sat down, looking grim. This was a topic none of them wanted to deal with.

“Such as who will lead you,” Fred said, still standing. Martin knew it pained the general to not sit down. Fred probably thought that they needed someone to look up to. “Hillard can no longer be a Ghost.”

“Figured that,” Irvin said bitterly. “Who’s your choice, Hillard? Who’s to lead this team?”

“The decision,” Hillard said slowly, briefly glaring at the general, “has been taken out of my hands. Probably better that way. I couldn’t choose between the four of you anyway.”

“But sir,” Dixon said, sitting up in his chair and fidgeting. “It’s always been tradition…”

“Tradition is not law,” Fred pointed out. “Besides, there is a reason for it. Martin, you’re now promoted to captain and will be leading this team.”

Martin jumped in his chair, staring shocked at the general. “Me?” he asked, shaking. “Why?”

“Yes,” Hillard agreed, eyeing the general suspiciously. “Why? You’ve been very secretive about your spy. I think we deserve some answers.”

“No kidding,” Art added in an eager voice, jabbing his thumb in Martin’s direction. “We know it was him who made the volcano go off. We want to know how.” Martin didn’t answer. How could he answer?

“Martin,” Chief said quietly. He looked up to meet the general’s stern but concerned expression. “They need to know the truth. They deserve it. And you are to lead them, they have a right to know.”

“The truth,” he sighed, looking down. “I’ve had a hard time accepting it myself.”

“Accepting what?” Clary asked, confused.

They’re going to learn it sooner or later, Martin reasoned. However, that did not make it any easier to say it aloud. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to look at everyone. The Ghosts leaned forward, curious about his answer. Chief looked on with a supporting nod.

“I learned my last name,” he admitted, clasping his hands so they wouldn’t shake.

The Ghosts frowned. “I thought your surname was Stevens,” Irvin said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“And what’s that got to do with your powers?” Hillard asked, frowning.

“That’s great!” Art cut in with excitement. He was practically jumping in his seat. “I knew you were going to figure it out sooner or later; you never did let that mystery die. So… What is it?”

Martin glanced at Fred again, looking for reassurance. The general nodded gravely. These men were supposed to know from the start. The only reason why they didn’t was because Fred saw his fear. Now his guardian wouldn’t let him use that excuse any longer.

“It’s…” He took a deep breath. Why wasn’t this getting any easier? “It’s Santer.”

Everything went still. Martin shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the Ghosts stared at him. He knew they were shocked, that they were weary of his answer. He wished they would say something, just to break the unnatural silence.

“San… Santer?” Irvin finally stuttered. “As in…”

“The missing crown prince?” Martin asked, half smiling. “Yes.”

“Hiethery,” Dixon breathed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes wide. The others exchanged surprised looks, too speechless to express their shock.

“I assume you’ve heard the rumors about our missing prince,” Fred said, walking over to stand by Martin and placing a hand on his shoulder. “The discovery of his Connection, proving that he was alive, that his face was magically altered, that his powers were blocked.” He paused, looking down at him. “All true.”

“If it makes any of you feel better,” Martin offered, “I didn’t believe it at first either.” He sighed deeply, bowing his head. “But that’s why I’ve been able to… do things. It’s why I don’t jump when someone comes into a room. It’s why I can often know what the people are thinking. And it’s why I was able to make the volcano go off.” He shivered. “I wasn’t expecting that one.”

“I don’t think any of us were,” Chief pointed out.

“But…” Hillard said, blinking very fast, waving his hands as he tried to give voice to his thoughts. “I thought… I thought that Santers only knew what the people generally felt…”

“Now we’ve gotten to what the rumors haven’t been saying,” Fred said. “It’s called the Renewal Spell. King Bert was actually supposed to bear the burden of receiving it, but those powers terrified him. He chose, instead, to pass the Renewal Spell to his grandchild.”

“Renewal Spell?” Clary asked.

“Basically,” Martin said, “it’s the original spell the Seven Founders cast on the first Santers. It has to be renewed every four hundred years or so.”

“That’s meaning to say,” Fred added to the confused looks the Ghosts still had, “that Martin was born with the same powers as the original Santers.”

This finally shook them out of their shock. Now they exchanged worried glances. There were stories about what the original Santers were able to do. Most Aeternans just brushed it off as exaggerations, tall tales. They were now faced with the truth. Martin was very powerful and very dangerous.

“It’s also the reason why Terk kidnapped me in the first place,” Martin added. “He didn’t think anyone should have that sort of power.” He didn’t voice that he started to believe the Mad General was right. He shivered, remembering the damage outside.

“And that’s why your friend was killed,” Hillard breathed. “He was trying to protect you.” He looked up at Fred. “And that’s why you wanted him here, not at Nacre. You told me you didn’t want him to waste away.” He stared at Martin again, his eyes searching. “Chief was right. Going to Nacre would have destroyed you.”

“Thanks,” Martin said dryly. The truth was the truth, but it did hurt to hear it said.

“So,” Art said softly, his face pale. “This entire time… Martin? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t know,” Martin sighed, trying to make them understand. “My lucky charm was just a glove. It wasn’t a Connection back then, just silly superstition.” He sighed deeply, slumping down in his chair. “But the powers were unlocked. By my order. Since then…” He shook his head. “I told you. I didn’t believe it at first.” He glanced away, ashamed. “I didn’t actually believe it until Luke died trying to save me. That’s also when the queen, Terk, and everyone else who knew me found out. I was actually supposed to go to Nacre a few weeks ago to begin my life as a prince.”

“But I didn’t want him to go to Nacre,” Fred announced, startling them with his powerful tone. “A prince who felt he didn’t deserve the title? It would have been political suicide before he even entered court!”

“That’s where we come in,” Dixon mumbled. “We’re to help him regain his confidence.”

“No,” Fred said, sounding amused. “Actually he’s here to create a reputation as a Ghost. It’s a lot better than telling the public that he was the Spy Alex before we found out the truth.” The general paused. “I also wanted all of you to help him learn to control his powers.”

Martin sat up, looking up at Fred, confused. “What?” he asked.

“You need to learn control, Martin,” Fred said sternly. “And you can’t learn that if you don’t practice.” He turned to the other Ghosts. “I was going to approach all of you to ask your permission for Martin to practice on and with you. I won’t force you to participate if you don’t want. However,” he glared at each of them, “keep in mind that I chose this team for a reason. I do not expect your answer now, just think on it.”

The Ghosts exchanged worried glances, which worried Martin. Ghosts were known for their bravery in the face of danger, known for how they would do what needed to get the job done. But these Ghosts knew they would be facing someone who was extremely powerful and needed to learn to control that power. Martin didn’t blame them for being worried.

“But now you know the truth,” Fred went on. “I know all of you have more questions, but it is getting late and Hillard, Martin, and I still have to discuss his promotion. We will talk again tomorrow about our plans. You four are dismissed.”

The four Ghosts rose and started to leave, saluting to Chief and Hillard, then hesitantly bowing to Martin. The prince flinched.

“You’re going to have to get used to it,” Art laughed, when he noticed. “My, oh, my. You’ve got a lot to get used to.”

“Thanks, Art,” Martin said dryly. “That makes me feel better.”

Art winked. “Anytime, Marty! I’ll hit you with questions tomorrow.” The door closed with the sound of Art laughing.

Martin dropped his head into his hands, groaning softly. Life used to be easy.
*************
So my revision that still needs done is before Martin blows the volcano. I feel like it needs to be more intense…. Anyway, it’s bedtime, I’m tired (in a good way). Next week’s post is the last of the Secret’s Captive. Enjoy the journey!