Whew! I just have to say, I’ve not been happy with work the last couple of days. I worked double shifts both Monday and Tuesday (six in the morning until after the dinner dishes were done, about eight thirty), then yesterday I worked yet another shift. I’m exhausted and my hands look terrible (that’s what I get being allergic to soap). Nice to finally get that rant out. Anyway, I thought since I didn’t post Monday, I’d post today. We’re getting closer to the end.
********
BANG!
Dixon spun around just in time to see the double doors of the throne room burst open. Their prince ran straight inside, heedless of what was ahead of him and if anyone was coming after him.
“Great,” he muttered, cutting down his enemy. “Going in again without us. MEN! To the prince! To the prince!”
The command was instantly obeyed as the men quickly cut down the enemy and began running for the throne room. Dixon spared only a short glance down at the dead thief who gave his life for their way.
BANG!
Dixon snapped his head up, surprised by this second bang and horrified at what he saw.
The double doors were closed again.
“That’s it then.”
Dixon was surprised by this new voice. Half turning, he saw enemy soldiers drop their weapons.
“We surrender,” the lead soldier said, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Why?” Dixon demanded to know. His men reached the throne room and tired to open the door.
“It was Terk’s orders,” the soldier explained, his voice tired, his expression drawn. “Once the prince entered the throne room, we were to surrender.” He nodded to the throne room. “Terk and the prince are trapped together in that room now. This war will be decided when one comes out.” He shook his head. “It’s about time. Let our leaders fight this out now.”
Dixon froze in horror.
Terk had planned a trap of his own.
“Get those doors opened!” he screamed, terror ripping him apart inside.
They couldn’t loose their prince! Not like this! Not now!
Tears came to Dixon’s eyes. They couldn’t loose Martin.
********
Martin stopped in his tracks as the door shut behind him, frozen as he tried to figure out what was happening. The room was black, but his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He had been to the throne room before, a relic of old times. It wasn’t use much anymore, since most of the government was ran through the House of People. It was essentially a long hall, with the thrones placed on the dais at the other end. But Martin didn’t focus there, glancing to the side. Normally, the throne room was filled with light, since the length of the hall was adorned with colored windows. Pillars divided the windows and provided a sense of stability. In the middle of the day, as bright as it was outside, this room was supposed to be a colorful display.
He slowly walked down the velvet carpet that ran down the room, carefully looking around. Why was there no light? There were no curtains over the windows. He briefly glanced upward. The high ceiling reminded him of the palace’s ballroom, complete with large chandeliers.
“So it’s true. You don’t have a reflection.”
Martin whipped around, ready for a fight. However, he saw nothing.
Mirror, he realized, carefully looking around again. Terk’s hiding behind a mirror. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t been able to spot the Mad General. The throne room had been built so no one could hide, even behind one of the window pillars.
“Afraid to face me, Terk?” Martin challenged. He reached for his magic, knowing the land would be able to tell where the General stood.
There was nothing.
Martin froze where he stood.
“Ah,” Terk’s oily voice chuckled. “You’ve realized you don’t have powers.”
“What did you do?” Martin asked softly. He wanted to scream. Terk had no right to take away his powers!
“When I realized my mages couldn’t find you,” Terk said, “I asked them to pour their magic into something else.” Martin focused on Terk’s voice. There was more than one way to find a person’s hiding place. “I knew you’d be coming after me. How could you not, after setting Nacre up as a trap to get me? So, I simply set up a trap of my own. This entire room is suppressed. No one can use magic here.”
“Including your magical transport,” Martin snorted. “We’re trapped in here together.”
“The only way to get out of here is if I command the magic to stop or I die,” Terk laughed. “And I don’t plan on dying today.”
“I’ve met very few people who plan on dying,” Martin sneered. “Plans don’t always work out.”
“I know,” Terk grumbled. “I’m a bit insulted that you didn’t even bring a sword to face me. I was expecting a fight.”
Martin smirked. There he was. “You shouldn’t say such things,” he said, spinning around. He threw a dagger towards one of the windows. The mirror carefully placed there shattered, revealing Terk behind it.
“Just ask your Tracker,” Martin growled. “He’d tell you that I’m not helpless.”
Terk frowned at the shattered mirror, then at the knife, then at him. “Alex,” he said, half smiling. “That’s why you have Alex in your name. You’re the Spy Alex.”
“I found it fitting,” Martin said, slowly taking an easy stance. Terk was a master swordsman. He had to be quick on his feet to keep from getting slashed into bits.
“So it is,” Terk agreed, walking towards him, the mirror pieces crunching loudly under his boots. “You are quite common looking.”
“Insulting me gets you nowhere,” Martin said, narrowing his eyes. There had to be a game being played here. “Now what?”
Terk paused, resting his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. “Now?” he asked, smirking. “Now we fight to end this silly war.” He whipped his sword out, aiming for Martin’s neck. He flipped back, coming to a crouch as he landed.
“Then Tracker wasn’t lying,” Terk considered, holding his sword out to the side. “A former street urchin.” The general shook his head. “But I had my men search Loman.”
“You had my face changed and my powers blocked,” Martin said, resisting the urge to stand up. “How did you expect to find a common face among many?”
“Point,” Terk conceded. “Well, then, should we stop talking and finish this?”
“I was wondering when you’d get to it,” Martin mocked. Without waiting for Terk to take a fighting stance, he darted forward, ripping out one of his knives to strike the general.
Clash!
Martin skirted back, not allowing shock to freeze his mind. Somehow, Terk was able to block his attack, sending the knife flying off.
“You’re fast,” Terk sneered, stalking towards him. “But you’re not the only one trained with a blade.”
Martin had to jump back again, quickly rethinking his plan of attack. He had hoped that he would be able to catch the Mad General off guard with his rushed attack, but it seemed it had turned on him.
He knows I grew up on the streets, Martin considered, dodging another whip of the singing blade. He knows I’m fast, so he’s trying to block me from getting too close to him. How can I use that against him?
There was only one way.
He had to get hurt.
It was tactic he rarely used, but very few people considered getting hurt to win. Martin had learned the hard way on the streets that sometimes it was the only choice to make to get what you wanted. He gritted his teeth. There was no time for doubt. He could not keep dodging the sword forever.
The opening came quickly, as Terk wove his blade to strike him in the arm. Martin rushed in, taking out another knife to stab in Terk’s heart.
Suddenly, the blade wasn’t aimed for his arm and slashed his stomach.
Martin gasped in pain, rolling onto the floor. Groaning, he held his arm to his stomach, trying to stop his blood from flowing out.
“Nice trick you had there,” Terk said, laughing. “I was wondering if you were going to use it.”
“Thanks,” Martin growled, grimacing against the pain. “Glad to be of service.”
“Oh,” Terk chuckled. “You have a sense of humor too. Well, you won’t for long. That blow isn’t going to kill you.”
“Figured that,” he snapped, struggling to sit back up. The wound wasn’t anything serious. Yes, it was across his stomach, but the cut was shallow. It hurt more than anything. Just another scar. “You just want to block my powers. Killing me would kill the land. So what do you plan to do with me now?”
“I’m just going to wait.”
Martin glanced up. Terk stood over him, sheaving his sword. “Wait?” he repeated.
“My blade was lanced with a new poison,” Terk explained, grinning.
“What?” Martin demanded to know. Suddenly pain raced through his body. Gasping, he curled into a ball, trying to fight off the pain. It was intense, like every beating he had ever endured. But the worst pain was that in his own soul. The pain of bitter disappointment, of hopelessness. Of losing friends. Fear, doubt, sadness, regret all pressed down on him.
“What did you do!” he screamed, tears blurring his vision.
“Let’s just call it,” Terk gloated, “my version of Nightmare Dust.”
Martin would have screamed, but new pain lanced through him, robbing him of his breath.
“This is better than the original,” Terk went on, squatting down to his level. “Instead of forcing you to relive your worst memories, it actually reminds your body of the pain and the emotions that came with it. You’ll feel as if you’re going through all of it again.” Terk paused to grin. “And the best part? I don’t even know if it’ll wear off.”
Martin gasped, closing his eyes tight. No, he thought, tears streaming down his face. No! I can’t live through all of that again!
“You’re helpless now,” Terk laughed. “I’ve ended the Santer line by simply trapping you in your own worst memories. And the best part,” he whispered, leaning in close to his ear, “is that your side came up with it.”
No! he thought rebelliously, gritting his teeth. I won’t be trapped like this!
“You think you’ve won,” he said, straining to speak. “But I’ll get over this.”
“Really?” Terk asked. “How?”
“Because that’s what I do.”
He then rammed his last knife in Terk’s heart.
Terk gasped in shock. He sat down hard, staring at blade sticking out of his chest. “How,” he breathed, slowly sinking to the floor. “How did you manage to move…. That poison should have paralyzed you!”
Martin managed to look up enough to stare Terk in the eye. “Because I’ve fought my entire life,” he growled. “I will never allow anything to hold me down.”
“Huh,” Terk muttered, managing a small smile. “Perhaps I did underestimate you. Goodbye, Martin. I’ll see you on the other side.”
General Terk then dropped to the ground, his life gone. Martin stared at his enemy, knowing that Terk would never again harm him or his nation.
********
Abigail had been rescued only to find a nightmare outside. For some reason, the Venter soldiers had surrendered, ending the terrible bloodshed. However, men on both sides lay dead or wounded throughout the palace. She knew the final battle was going to take place in her home, but she never expected to see such pain and suffering.
“Where’s my son?” she demanded to know of her rescuers.
“Last we heard,” one soldier reported, bowing to her. “He was headed for the throne room.”
“The throne room?” she repeated, frowning. “Why there?” She shook her head, waving the soldier off. “Never mind. Lead me there. Now.”
She tried not to be too much horrified at the sight of after battle, but it was hard. She had never seen anything like this. Jon was the one to take care of the battles. She handled things at home.
How can they stand this? she wondered as they reached the throne room. Dixon was supervising a group of men who held a makeshift battering ram.
“What is going on here?” she asked, shocked. “What is this all for?”
Ghost Dixon slowly turned to face her, his face drawn.
“Terk planned a trap for Martin,” he explained, “They’re both inside the throne room. Trapped together.”
Abigail felt as if her world froze. “Trapped?” she breathed, her head whirling with terrible thoughts. What had Terk planned for her son? “Why can’t you get in?” She wanted to scream but somehow managed to keep her voice level.
“It’s a magical barrier,” Dixon said. “We’re trying the best that we can.”
Someone snorted.
Turning, Abigail finally noticed an enemy officer sitting on the ground. He had been tied up, but he made no effort to escape. “I told you,” the man said. “Terk wanted to confront the prince on his own. No one is getting in until the matter is settled between them.”
It was almost too much for her. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to work!
“Well?” she snapped at Dixon. “Why isn’t that door open yet?” He quickly bowed and went to order the men to ram the door in. Abigail couldn’t bare the thought that her son was in danger. Alone.
He shouldn’t be alone.
“On the count of three,” Dixon ordered, the men preparing to run for the door. “One! Two!”
The door opened by itself.
“There,” the enemy officer said, sounding relieved. “The war is finally over.”
Abigail didn’t bother asking what the man meant. She ran into the throne room, heedless of what danger she might encounter. Her son was in there. Behind her, the Ghosts and soldiers quickly ran after her.
She skid to a stop when she saw two still forms in the middle of the throne room, blood pooling around them. One was dressed in a Venter General uniform. The other in the dark blue of the Ghosts.
“Martin!” she screamed. She ran to her son’s side, dropping to her knees and gently rolling him over. He groaned as she moved him. She started crying in relief. Her son was alive.
“Ouch,” he said, holding onto his stomach. It was then that she noticed the blood he was trying to stop.
“Get a Healer!” she ordered, glancing up just enough to watch someone run on her command. “Quickly!” Nearly half the soldiers ran.
Dixon knelt down next to the Mad General, checking his pulse. He snorted in satisfaction. “Our prince finished the job,” he said grimly. “Terk’s dead.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I followed after him.”
Abigail stared down at Martin, holding his head. His eyes opened briefly, tears blurring them. “He had a new poison,” he sobbed softly. “A new Nightmare Dust.” He shivered, closing his eyes tight. “It hurts so much!”
“A new Nightmare Dust?” Dixon repeated, his expression turning into anger. “Why… If Terk weren’t already dead, I’d kill him!”
Martin shook his head. “It’s different,” he said. “I can feel that. I’m going under… I don’t know if I’ll wake up… He said he didn’t know if it’ll wear off.”
Abigail couldn’t suppress her gasp. “No,” she said firmly, crying. “You’re going to make it. You’re going to fight this. You always do. You’re going to be fine!”
Martin managed a small smile, his eyes still closed. “We’ll see…”
“Martin?” she asked when he didn’t go on. “Martin! Answer me!”
He didn’t, his breathing slow and even as if he had just gone to sleep. She wanted to shake his shoulders, slap his face, but she couldn’t bring herself too.
“No,” she breathed, new tears coming. She bent over, cradling his head in her lap. “NO!”
********
“Why won’t you give me details?”
Sona didn’t even bother to give Ann an answer as she worked to help a family move back above ground. Some of the volunteers asked to send their families underground to protect them from Terk’s soldiers. Martin couldn’t tell them no, and now several families needed to be back above.
“Thank you,” said Tara, a baby in her arms. The woman’s children were already playing in the streets, laughing in the sunlight.
“I’m only doing what I can to help,” Sona said, climbing out of the tunnel herself. Ann was quick to follow. The nosy reporter had rarely left her side since she found out that she was Martin’s lady.
“I know,” Tara laughed, patting her arm. “You and Martin make a great couple, I think. You can’t think of anything but serving others. You’ll make a wonderful queen.”
Sona gulped, unable to stop her blush. “He hasn’t purposed yet,” she admitted.
“Yet,” Tara chuckled.
“How did you manage to snatch our prince?” Ann asked, her notepad already out and her pencil ready. “We both know that he isn’t a man who goes chasing after a pretty face.”
“Good thing for that,” Tara huffed, glaring at the reporter. The woman had taken an instant disliking for the reporter. “Martin’s a decent fellow.”
“Exactly my point!” Ann proclaimed, grinning. “How, Sona? How did you nab him?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Sona snorted.
“I have a story to write,” Ann huffed. “I’m going to get it. One way or another.”
“Threatening me isn’t going to work,” Sona pointed out. “Or don’t you remember last time?”
“That was last time,” Ann brushed off. “This is new. And I wasn’t threatening. I was simply stating fact! I’m going to get my story, even if it means following you around and bugging you enough to get it!”
Sona rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you try that with Martin?” she asked. “Didn’t you almost end up being killed? And you didn’t even get the story.”
Tara laughed at the shock on Ann’s face. The reporter took a minute to recover, muttering dark things under her breath. Sona merely shook her head. Dealing with Ann was the least of her worries. She had kept busy by helping people out of the tunnels to keep her mind off the battle that was taking place.
How was Martin doing?
She quickly shook that thought out of her head. No, she needed to be busy, she had to keep her mind on doing what she can.
“SONA!”
Sona jumped. She spun around to see who called her name before she realized that the voice came from inside her head.
“Spirit?” she asked softly, uncertain why she asked.
“Get to the palace! Now! Martin’s been hurt and we don’t know what to do!”
The world collapsed around her. “Martin,” she breathed, glancing to the palace. Its tall spires were seen over the housetops. “Martin!” She ran, heedless of the confusion she caused in her actions. Something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.
Even as fast as she ran, it still took her a while to get to the palace. The gate at the palace had been blown in, men in Aeternan uniforms holding a loose formation to keep people from entering. However, they recognized her and let her pass through without challenging her. She didn’t pause to catch her breath, her side hurting, her head spinning. She couldn’t stop. She had to see Martin!
The scene of battle was lost to her as she ran through the palace. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she was going in the right direction. The Spirit was leading her to where she needed to go.
She finally came to a stop, breathing heavily as she finally recognized where she was.
It was the palace infirmary.
Abigail sat on a bench, her face streaked with tears and her expression drawn. She glanced up when she heard her.
Sona didn’t need to ask what had happened. She fell to her knees, tears already pouring down her face.
“He’s not dead,” Abigail said, rising and coming to her side. “But we don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
Sona heard the words, but she couldn’t think. She curled into a ball, unable to stop her cries.
********
Abigail had knelt down and put her arms around the crying researcher when the healer came out of the room. She glanced up to see him shaking his head.
“We’ve managed to heal the wound,” he said, his face pale. “But he hasn’t woken up.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Abigail asked.
“I don’t know the first thing about Nightmare Dust,” the healer admitted bitterly. “I’ve sent for Healer Smith, but it’ll take time for him to get here. All I can do now is make sure the prince is comfortable.”
“I want to see him.”
The healer shrugged. “It won’t do you much good,” he said. “He’s not responding to anything.”
“I will see him,” Abigail insisted, standing up. She glanced down at the crying young woman, who hadn’t seemed to hear a word they had been saying. She understood that pain. It was debilitating. “And get her a sleeping draught.”
The healer glanced at Sona, snorting. “Why?” he asked, glaring a bit. “She’s probably a title chaser, here to make it seem as if she…”
Slap!
The healer stepped back, shocked at getting slapped by his queen. “She’s no title chaser!” she snapped, pointing at Sona. “She’s the woman Martin loves! I gave him my blessing to marry her! Now, you will give her a sleeping draught! Do you understand?”
The healer rushed to get the draught. Abigail waited by Sona’s side until he returned with the cup. She took it from him and knelt down next to the girl.
“Sona,” she said gently, holding the drink out to her. “Here, drink this.” Sona didn’t bother asking what it was and downed it. She handed the cup back, her sobbing finally quieting. Abigail helped her stand up and to sit back down on a bench. Soon, Sona fell asleep, laying down on the bench.
“Watch over her,” Abigail ordered the healer. “I’ll be back once I’ve seen my son.”
Without waiting for his reply, Abigail walking into the room her son was in. It was a very clean and white. A couple Healer assistants were finishing cleaning the equipment used on her son.
Her son.
Martin lay motionless on a bed, his hands resting on his stomach. His uniform had been taken off and folded neatly on the foot of the bed. The sheets were pulled up to his waist, bandages covering most of his torso. But the horrid scars of his childhood were revealed, uncovered. Abigail knew that Martin would be horrified if anyone saw his scars.
“Oh, Martin,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “Get better soon.” She looked upward, trying to stop from crying again. “Seven Founders. Let my boy get better soon.”
***********
Coronel Jake Bechler couldn’t believe his luck. He was assigned to work with General Sanders for the last six months and he was finally getting some action.
It’s about time, he thought, leading a very specialized team. True, they were no Ghosts, but they still had their skills. Besides, the Ghosts had all been called away for something else and this matter had to be taken care of now.
General Sanders had gotten a message from Commander Suit, whoever he was, and the orders were very brief.
The Venter unit in their area had something big. They were to get it. Fast.
Bechler was a bit surprised by how few Venter soldiers were hiding out around an old hunters cabin. He and his team of fifty men easily overtook the twenty men camped around the cabin.
What in the world would require twenty men to guard it? he wondered, watching as his men rounded up the last of the prisoners. None of them seemed willing to talk.
“What were you guarding?” Bechler asked again, five men sitting before him. They stared at their feet, refusing to answer.
He sighed. He wasn’t an interrogator. He was a simple soldier.
“Fine,” he dismissed, walking out of the tent. “I’ll find out for myself.” He wasn’t one much for talk anyway. Action was what he thrived on. That’s why he joined the army.
He approached the cabin. A few of his men were busy working on it. It was easy to see that the Venter soldiers had taken extra measures to make sure no one entered the cabin. One man nearly got killed trying to open the door.
“How is it going?” he asked, careful not to approach too closely.
“We’ve got most of the traps disarmed,” a sergeant said, standing up and brushing his pants off. He glanced up to the darkening sky. “And not a moment too soon. I wouldn’t want to work on this in the night.”
“So it’s safe to go in?” Bechler asked, needing confirmation.
“As far as we can tell.”
“Then let’s open it up,” he ordered. Whatever the Venterans wanted to hide, he wanted to know what it was.
The sergeant nodded and opened the door, flinching as if he expected some surprise. He grinned foolishly when nothing happened.
Rolling his eyes, Bechler walked into the cabin. Inside was a simple room with three bunk beds, with five men laying on them. Four of the men sat up as the door opened, their eyes sunk in, their faces unshaved, the clothes they wore were tattered, and shackles chained them to the beds.
“Aeternan?” one asked, the hope in his voice tearing at a part of Bechler’s soul. He had been a prisoner of war once. He knew the pain these men were living.
“Don’t worry,” Bechler said, holding his hands up. “We’re friends. We’re here to set you free.”
The men started weeping, profusely thanking him. Bechler felt his throat clog. Yes, he knew how it felt. He quickly ordered his men inside, to release the prisoners and get them outside. He quietly asked for each man’s name as he was released.
It was soon apparent that these men were no ordinary prisoners. These were dangerous Aeternans. One was a master assassin. Another a double agent. Two of them were weapon designers.
The fifth man, however, still lay on his bunk, either too worn from his captivity or unconscious. Bechler knelt by the bunk, shaking the man’s shoulder gently.
“Sir,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”
The man shook and turned around. His face was also covered in hair, his clothes too worn to be new, but his deep blue eyes were alive. This man wasn’t broken down. Bechler could admire that in a man. Those penetrating eyes glanced over his uniform.
“You’re Aeternan,” the man breathed, his voice deep, resonating.
“Yes,” Bechler answered, smiling. “Coronel Jake Bechler at your service. Who are you?”
The man sat up, tears filling his deep blue eyes.
“I’m Jonathan Santer.”
*********
General Sanders could hardly believe his eyes. But it couldn’t be anyone else. It was even more apparent after the king was given a full meal and was able to wash up. Now the king sat contently in a private tent, finishing off what seemed to be his third plate of food. Sanders shook his head. When King Jonathan wanted, he could really put away the food.
“I still say that she isn’t going to let you keep the beard,” Sanders said. The king absently rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t kept all of the beard he grew in captivity, but he had trimmed it. It actually looked good on the king; though Sanders would never admit that to the queen.
“I’ll wear her down,” Jonathan said, taking another bite. “I’ve grown used to it and so will she.”
Sanders shook his head again. He knew both the king and queen. Not very well, perhaps, but enough to know that the queen was a stubborn woman. He wondered just how long she was going to allow her husband to keep the beard.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually alive,” he said for the fifth time.
“I find it hard believe too,” Jonathan sighed, gazing down at his now empty plate. “After the battle at Fort Bree, I was taken captive. As far as I understand, I was unconscious for nearly a year. And when I did wake up, they kept me on the move, never letting me stay any place more than five weeks at a time. Terk never made any attempt to torture me, or even talk to me. It was almost as if they were afraid to let anyone know I was still alive.”
“Terk is annoying like that,” Sanders said seriously. “Your family is going to be ecstatic when they find out that you’re alive.”
King Jonathan grinned, the smile reaching his eyes. “I know! I can’t wait to see them! Sara is fifteen, now, right? She’s probably grown into a beauty. And my Abby.” The king sighed happily. “I bet she’s even more beautiful now.”
“And you get to meet your son.”
The king frowned. “Son? What son? Unless Abigail was expecting when I was captured, which is very unlikely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sanders shook. “Didn’t they tell you anything?” he asked, his guts forming knots. He didn’t want to be the one to tell the king this! “Anything about how the war was going? Anything like that?”
“No,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “I haven’t heard anything. I have about four and a half years to catch up on now.”
Sanders gulped. He couldn’t hide this from his king. He deserved to know the truth.
“Well…” he said, wondering where he should start. “It seems… Henry’s alive.”
Jon froze. “What?” he asked softly.
“He isn’t Henry now,” Sanders had to explain. “Apparently, Terk had kidnapped your son and magically changed his face. Oh, and blocked his powers. That’s why no one could sense him.
“He’s a Ghost hero,” the general went on, remembering the newspaper he had brought with him, on request of the king. He held the paper up, showing a picture of the prince with the full article about where he had grown up. “The people love him. I met him once, about five months ago. Very nice young man. Smart too. Your wife and daughter have taken him in with welcoming arms. Here! Read it for yourself!”
He handed the king the newspaper, feeling very nervous. Jonathan showed no expression as he gazed down at the altered face of his son.
“Martin Henry Alex Santer,” he said softly, searching the face of the son he never knew.
“Leave me,” he said quietly. “Bring more about him… but leave me.”
“Of course,” Sanders said, bowing low and then leaving the tent. He glanced back briefly before he left, just long enough to see tears come to the king’s eyes as he lightly touched the picture. Sanders felt a lump in his throat.
The king did need to be alone for this.
**********
Jonathan waited until after he had gotten all the newspapers about Martin before he allowed himself a smile. His boy had done it. According to all the papers, he was well liked and already a favorite of both the Court and the people. Just as Jon knew he would. Martin was just that kind of person.
After reading another article about his son, Jon took another glance at his plate, wishing he had ordered more food. The plan he and Suit had come up with was simple enough, though it did cause him a lot of discomfort to pull it off.
By sheer luck, Suit had managed to locate one of Terk’s special prison units, ones meant for the most dangerous and treacherous prisoners. Two weeks before, Suit disguised as a Venter soldier had delivered him up to this prison unit, with orders to not ask who he was, but warned the soldiers that he was dangerous.
For two weeks, Jon lived as the other prisoners, starved, unwashed, and occasionally beaten. Only the thought of being reunited with his family kept him from revealing who he really was to the soldiers.
But the charade was finished. No more acting like a beaten prisoner, no more Ghost General, no more lies.
He was King Jonathan and it was time to go home.
***********
Oh, what a mess I’ve made. I’m not getting any nicer to my characters, even this close to the end. Two more posts!
Enjoy the journey!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Battle for Nacre
We’re getting closer! To the battle for Nacre!
************
Bang!
“Well,” Martin said, glancing up at the tunnel ceiling as it finished shaking. “It seems that Thomas’s new toy just destroyed another of Terk’s weapon catches.”
“Aren’t you worried that he’s going to take Aeternan weapons?” Willy asked. Martin glanced at the thief, wondering just how much weight he had lost. They had been making rounds to all the stations underground. Although Martin would have liked to be above ground, fighting with everyone else, he knew his place was now here, encouraging the men and giving them hope.
“I’m not worried about that,” he said as he kept walking. Thomas’s station was the last one for the day and Martin really wanted to get to the command center. Steve had been tracking Terk’s movements. He was due back soon and then they could begin planning their final attack on Terk.
“Why aren’t you worried?” Willy asked, catching up with him. Martin was vaguely reminded of another tunnel in which he and Willy walked side by side, working together against a common foe. War certainly brought unlikely allies together.
“Because most of the weapons are down here,” Martin explained. “As Terk was attacking, everyone who came underground were told to take as many weapons with them as they could. I doubt there’s enough weapons above ground for Terk to replace the ones Thomas just destroyed.”
Willy stared at him, a bit amazed. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”
“Not really,” Martin said, shrugging. “I just came up with the original plan.”
“Luring Terk into a trap with you as bait?” Willy shrewdly guessed.
“Yes,” he admitted. “But the rest of the Ghosts helped with the rest of it.”
Willy shook his head. “When are you going to take credit?”
Martin paused. “Excuse me?” he asked, frowning at the thief.
“You’re always trying to pass the credit on someone else,” Willy pointed out. “Oh, there are some things you boast about, but you hardly ever do it. You need to take more credit for what you’ve done. Perhaps then the nobles will stop questioning you.”
Martin thought about it, grudgingly admitting to himself that Willy had a point. While the nobles he had rescued the day before had settled into their new surroundings, there were still some mutterings, mostly from Nick. While Martin was sure he would never stop Nick from complaining, he wondered if he just acted a bit more arrogant, they would finally stop questioning what he was doing.
When they arrived at the command center, Steve was already there, chatting away with Sara. Martin was a bit surprised by how good of friends the two were. They couldn’t have meet more than a handful of times, and only for short periods of time at that. While he couldn’t confirm what he observed with his powers, he was certain that Steve and Sara were attracted to each other.
I would have never put them together, he thought, smiling a bit. While it might take a while, he wouldn’t be surprised in the future if the two grew to be more than friends.
“I’d never thought I’d see my nephew fall for a girl,” Willy grumbled under his breath, also spotting the two from across the room. “And a princess at that too!”
“It’s too soon to say anything,” Martin pointed out.
“I still don’t have to like it.”
Martin chuckled and crossed the room. Sara was the first to spot him, blushing as she realized that he had caught her talking with Steve.
“I’ve got to go,” she said as he approached. “I want to talk with Sona. Bye!” She rushed into the hall of offices, where Sona had barred herself to keep people from staring at her.
“Ah, uncle,” Steve groaned, turning to notice them. “Do you always have to ruin my chances with a girl?” He blushed a bit when he remembered who else was there. “No offense or anything, Martin. I mean… She is your sister…”
“Steve,” Martin said, trying hard not to smile. “Don’t say anything. You’ll make it worse.”
Steve closed his mouth, nodding his head.
“Did you get the information we need?”
“I’d be a poor excuse of a spy apprentice if I didn’t.”
“Good. Let’s gather the Ghosts.”
********
“So that’s it then?” Dixon asked. He and the other Ghosts were in his office, standing around his desk and studying the map that Steve had drawn out for them of the palace and grounds. It marked where the soldiers were camped, where people were held prisoners, and where Terk and his commanding officers stayed. Dixon glanced over at the prince. Martin sat at behind the desk, his eyes focused on the map.
“It appears so,” Martin answered, his expression blank.
“Then we’re going to attack tomorrow?” Art asked, sitting down on the edge of the desk.
“Steve did say that the mages have exhausted their magic trying to find you,” Clary added. “Putting that Inhibitor on you was a good way of tricking them to waste their magic. They spent so much trying to find nothing that they shouldn’t be able to fight.”
“That was the other idea of using the Inhibitor,” Martin confessed. Dixon wasn’t surprised by the prince’s lack of emotion. It may unnerve others for a commanding officer to show no emotion, but Dixon knew better. Martin was just so good at controlling what he wanted people to see. And the people needed to see a man in control, someone ready to make decisions without the heat of the moment to cloud their judgment.
If there ever was someone to make decisions, it’s Martin, Dixon thought proudly. The prince never thought in just logic or just by emotions. He used both aspects of his character to think, to act. It was what made him a great commander, a compassionate commander.
“Tomorrow it is,” Irvin agreed. “The war will end tomorrow.”
“One way or another,” Martin said softly. “The war will end.”
*********
Martin had trouble sleeping that night. He tried every trick he knew whenever he couldn’t sleep. He had pulled out a large book on the history of plants and read that for an hour, but that didn’t help. He would have worked on paperwork, but, surprisingly this close to battle, he didn’t have any. He walked around his office a few times, but that only increased his wakefulness.
Maybe I can’t fall asleep because I don’t have Tobby, he thought, smiling a bit. It was a ridiculous idea, but it did get him to smile.
Life was going to be different after today.
Without knowing what else to do, he just laid down, resting his eyes. He eventually fell asleep but he woke up too soon at the quiet knock at his door.
“Martin?” Sona asked, opening the door wide enough to poke her head through. “It’s time to get up.”
“Already?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “It can’t be that soon, can it?”
“I’m afraid it is,” she said, walking into the office. She carried a tray of food and put it down on his desk. “Everyone’s getting ready. You should too.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be ready for this,” he grumbled, sitting up.
Sona chuckled and kissed him on the forehead. “Just remember, after all this is over, you can finally ask me that question.”
“I’d still like to ask it now.”
“No,” she said firmly. Kissing him again, she left the office, leaving him alone to prepare.
Martin couldn’t take more than a few bites, then put on his uniform. It wasn’t an exact Ghost uniform, but it was similar. It was dark blue with silver trimming. It seemed a bit odd to Martin now that the Ghosts always sported the Santer family colors.
Then again, he thought, buttoning his coat on, I shouldn’t be so surprised. Ghosts vow to protect Aeterna and it’s rulers. It only made sense that they wear the Santer colors.
He tugged on his sleeves, making sure his scars were covered. His uniform had no medals, no crests embroidered on his chest. The only difference his uniform had from the Ghosts was the red sash he wore around his waist. He glanced at the mirror in his office, thinking to judge how he looked.
Of course there was no reflection.
“Why can’t I still see myself?” Martin asked, half expecting an answer.
But there was no answer.
He wasn’t connected to the land.
Feeling nervous and a bit down, he left his office, mentally preparing himself. The other Ghosts and Sona stood waiting out in the hall, talking quietly. They hushed as he approached.
“How do I look?” he asked, holding his hands out to the side a bit. “I can’t tell.”
The others chuckled.
“Still no reflection, huh?” Art teased. Sona shook her head at the Ghost and came to his side. She smoothed his hair a bit and straightened his collar.
“There,” she said, tugging down on his coat one last time. “You’re ready to go.”
“Everyone’s assembled,” Dixon said, nodding his head back to where everyone had gathered. “Shall we go?”
Martin nodded, his mouth suddenly going dry. They walked together into the main storage room. It had been emptied of supplies and people now filled it. Martin was glad that he wasn’t connected to them now, though he knew what they were feeling. The faces were anxious, some fearful, others grim with determination. Some of these faces were going to be missing by the end of the day.
Martin quickly shook that thought out of his head. They had all agreed to be here. They were all ready to do what they must to protect their homes and families.
They were no less dedicated than he was.
A makeshift stage had been built. No one was on it. Martin wondered if the Ghosts decided that no one would be on it to make him more nervous. He hated being the center of attention. He didn’t know how much more center of attention he could get than being the only one on a raised stage before an army ready for battle.
“I hate giving speeches,” he muttered under his breath as he approached the stage.
“Funny thing for you to say,” Sona teased him softly. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good luck.”
He nodded and mounted the stage. The room was hushed, a few scuffles of tired feet trying to find relief, rustle of cloth as people moved to get a better view of him, a couple coughs. Martin took a deep breath, trying hard not to think of all the eyes on him. He was their prince, their future king.
They really deserved better than him.
“Today is the day,” Martin started off, his stomach rolling. He was glad that he didn’t have much to eat that morning. “Today is the day we fight to end a war.”
Cheers agreed with him. Martin held his hands up, the army’s cheers dying down.
“It’s been a long war,” he told them, forcing himself to look these men in the eyes. “We’ve all suffered much because of it.” He could see tears and nods among them. “We’ve lost property.” His face. “We’ve lost family.” His father. “We’ve lost friends.” Luke.
Martin felt his throat clog. “There’s so much all of us have lost,” he said, forcing the words out. “Not just you. Not just me. But all of Aeterna has lost much.” There was no sound now, no one moved. “We are all here today because we have something to fight for, something to protect, something to take back.
“And today we take our nation back,” he declared. “Terk has no right to be on Aeternan soil any longer. Today! Aeterna will be ours again!”
Cheers shook the room, vibrating the wooden stage he stood on.
“Prepare yourselves!” Martin shouted over the noise. “We’re taking Aeterna back!”
**********
“You gave that speech without even being linked to the land,” Art said, shaking his head. “I guess that blows my theory.”
Martin had nearly collapsed in relief as he stepped off the stage and the army divided into ranks. Everyone had a section of Nacre to take back. His and the Ghosts were the palace. It only made sense that they took the palace back. However, Martin needed a few minutes to himself to recover from his speech. He sat back in his office, taking small sips of water. Sona stood over him to make sure of it.
“And what’s theory is that?” he asked, his stomach not rolling so much.
“That the Connection gave you the power to talk!”
The other Ghosts chuckled. “One does not become a great leader by having power,” Dixon pointed out smugly. “Its character that gives a man the ability to lead.”
“Besides,” a new voice said. “Didn’t I always say that Martin would be a great leader one day?”
Art, Martin, and Sona froze. Stiffly, Art turned to face the door, his face paling.
There was no mistaking who stood in the door. A prideful old man, Commander Doug Suit always had a dangerous presence around him. He could have been Art’s twin, except for being nearly thirty years older, already greying short hair, and mustache.
“Da,” Art said, his voice cracking. Martin couldn’t blame Art. The last time the two had been in the same room, harsh words had damaged their relationship. Though Art said very little about his dad other than he was a scary person, Art never voiced how he feared he had disappointed his father.
“Son,” Suit said. His eyes quickly swept the room. He bowed slightly towards Martin. “Your Highness.”
“Commander,” Martin said, standing up. “It’s good that you could join us.”
“And miss out on the adventure of a lifetime?” Suit asked, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t miss it. Besides,” he said, glancing at his nervous son. “I want to be by my son’s side as he becomes a hero.”
Art gulped, tears coming to his eyes. “Thanks, da,” he said softly.
“We should go,” Martin suggested. “We’ll meet up again when we reach the palace.” He and the Ghosts then filed out of the room, leaving the Spy Master with his son. Sona was the last to leave, closing the door softly behind them.
“You asked Suit to be here?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his.
He shrugged. “Actually, Suit asked to come.” He glanced at the room. “I always knew that Suit wanted to make amends with Art, but he never knew when the time was right. I guess he thought now was the time.”
“There’s no better time,” Irvin pointed out. “We don’t know if we’re going to survive this.” That dampened the mood quickly.
Martin sighed. “We’ll hope for the best.”
“Speaking of the best,” Clary said. “Shouldn’t you unInhibit yourself now?”
Martin nodded. Silently, Sona took the Inhibitor out of her pouch, quickly clicking it off, and handed it to him. He dropped to his knees as the pain took him again, screaming filling his ears. He gritted his teeth, knowing this pain wouldn’t last much longer.
“Finally!” he heard. “What took you so long?”
“Don’t complain,” Martin muttered, getting back to his feet. “I could have waited until after the war.” The others weren’t even bothered that he was talking to a voice in his head.
The Spirit snorted. “You wouldn’t dare. Terk hurt us too, you know. We demand justice. The only way we can do that is through you. You’re not doing this alone.”
No, he wasn’t alone. Martin straightened his shoulders.
It was time to go.
**********
There were no tunnels that led right into the palace.
Not that that mattered much.
Martin stood before the gates of the palace, staring up the iron wrought gate. He was a bit surprised to find the gates closed. But then again, he should be. Terk would know that this was a trap. He would have done everything he could to protect himself from that trap.
Behind him, his portion of the army was coming out of the tunnels, making a racket doing it. There wasn’t much point to hiding though. Terk would know they were coming anyway. He couldn’t keep Nacre for that much longer.
“So,” Art said, standing beside him. “What’s the plan to get in there?”
“I assume he’s going to use his powers,” Suit suggested, coming up from behind. “Sometimes brute strength has its merits.”
Art shook his head, smiling a bit. “Never thought I’d hear you say something like that, da.”
“He has a point,” Martin said, his senses already focused on the metal gate. “We’re here to root Terk out of Aeterna. We’ll need to be forceful to do it.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Step back everyone! I’ll take care of this!”
The army around him hung back, even the Ghosts. Sona wasn’t with them. Martin had asked her to remain in the tunnels with the other women and nobles. Surprisingly she agreed. When he asked why, she simply stated that she wasn’t cut out for battle. The one for her home valley had been enough for her.
Now it was time for him to take back his own home.
“Alright, Aeterna,” he said softly. “Let’s do this.”
“Finally!” the Spirit practically screamed in his ear. “Let’s unleash our powers!”
Martin put his hand on the gate, his Connection comfortingly on. He needed all the control he could get today. Taking a deep breath, he commanded the gate to open.
BANG!
The gates burst away from him, swinging inward. Behind the gates, Venter soldiers were unprepared for the gate to suddenly open. Most of them were probably expecting a battering ram.
They weren’t expecting the prince to simply order the gate open.
“Charge!” Martin yelled, running forward. He had no sword, no visible weapon as he ran at the enemy. He had given up on trying to be something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a sword master, spearman, or even an archer. He was a fist and knife master, his weapons were his speed and body. He was more dangerous without a weapon in his hands. No one stood a chance against him.
The clash with the gate guards was brutally short. Within minutes, the gate was in their possession. Martin couldn’t remember much of it, just action and reaction, flowing from one enemy to another. Rarely a face of a fellow Aeternan entered the scene and the prince rushed to help. Then it was back to the enemy, tearing them down literally with his bare hands.
“RETREAT!”
The enemy soldiers were quick to follow the order, running away. Martin and his men stayed by the gate. They had won it but now they had to keep it.
“That went well,” Dixon said with heavy breath of battle, walking up to him. Martin stood in the center of the open gate, finally taking in the entire scene and staring at the horror around him. Men from both sides lay on the ground, blood beginning to soak the soil. There were moans, groans, and cries from the injured. It wasn’t his first battle, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. But it still hurt and horrified him.
And there were familiar faces.
Devin and Trey lay among the dead.
“It hurts you,” Dixon said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t it?”
“I feel no life in them,” Martin whispered, trying hard not to shiver. “I know the others are feeling pain…” He closed his eyes tight. He wanted so badly to block the emotions of those around him, but he couldn’t. He had led them to this. They agreed to come. They all knew what they were willing to do. He had to stop thinking that he was the only one who should get hurt. These men were just as dedicated as he was.
It still hurt.
“Let’s go,” Martin finally said, forcing himself to walk away from the dead. “We can’t let Terk get away.”
“Men!” he heard Dixon behind him. “Time to move out! Jared! Your team stay here and hold the gate!”
No one is coming, Martin thought, gazing up at the palace. The army that had been camped out on the grounds were gone, disappeared inside the moment they had spotted the enemy approach. Terk knew the palace would be a better battleground than outside. At least inside, only so many men could fit in the corridors.
“Watch out, Terk,” he muttered darkly, marching forward. “I’m coming.”
*********
“Hey, Martin?” Willy asked, finishing off a Venter soldier with a blow to the head with his cane. “Do you even know where Terk is?”
The prince stood up from his crouch, the man he was fighting unconscious on the floor. Willy was always amazed when the prince fought. It was almost like watching a circus act, perfectly timed and executed. Only he was far more deadly.
“Aeterna says that he’s in the throne room,” he answered, glancing around the hall. Around them, men were fighting. The Ghosts fought along side regular soldiers, jumping in to help a fallen comrade. Willy didn’t know many of them, few he could pick out from sight, but the names were lost. But that didn’t matter in this fight. They fought with heart and determination. The Venter soldiers were sluggish and slow, the results of their long march and the constant harassment the Aeternans had given them once they arrived.
Terk was quickly loosing the battle and he wasn’t anywhere near the fighting.
“Why the throne room?” Willy grunted as he knocked another man down. He always liked the cane as a weapon. No one expected him to bash in people’s skulls with a ruby.
“I don’t know,” Martin admitted, twisting away in time to avoid an arrow aimed to maim him. “But that’s where I’ve got to go.”
“Then count me in,” Willy barked. “Lead on!”
Martin darted forward, dodging attacks and attacking at the same time. Willy was a bit slower in following. He lacked the grace of a fighter, but he was deadly with his cane. There was a reason he earned the nickname the Horrid.
They broke through the mass of the fighting. The Venter soldiers on the outside of the knot weren’t anxious to engage in battle and quickly fled as he and the prince penetrated their side.
“Cowards!” Willy yelled, shaking his cane at them. “Come back and fight us like men!”
“I wouldn’t call them cowards,” Martin suggested, frowning as he watched the soldiers flee. “There must be something… Look out!”
Willy suddenly found himself on the ground, the prince laying next to him. Glancing back to where they had been standing, there was now a huge chunk missing from the floor.
I didn’t hear anything, he realized, staring though not really knowing what was happening.
“Great,” Martin muttered, sitting up. “They’ve booby trapped the way to Terk.”
“Booby trapped?” Willy repeated.
“Why else would you think they’d run?” Martin grunted, sitting up. “I’m guessing they had a bomb right there. The only reason we’re not blown up right now is because Aeterna warned me.”
“It should be a bit faster with those warnings,” Willy grumbled. “We can’t afford to loose you.”
“Martin! Willy!”
They turned to find the Ghosts and soldiers had finished taking care of the enemy. Dixon was the first there, helping the prince to his feet.
“What happened?” he asked.
“This hall is booby trapped,” Martin explained, nodding to the hole in the floor. “We’re going to have to go another way to the throne room.”
“But that could take a long time,” Art complained. “I’d rather have this war done and over with today.”
“I don’t see much choice in the matter,” the prince began to point out.
“Why don’t you use your powers to just get rid of all the traps?” Willy suggested, struggling to his feet.
“Because that would take a lot of concentration,” Martin sighed. “And the Spirit isn’t much into concentrating right now. I’ve allowed it to use a lot of power in just a few hours and it doesn’t want to stop. I’m more likely to blow up the hall than ‘get rid’ of the traps.”
“Then the easiest thing to do,” Willy concluded, “is for someone to walk in and disarm all the traps.”
“I doubt they’ll let me go through there,” Martin began to point out. Of course the prince would only think of putting himself in danger. Willy shook his head. While Martin was very good at many things, delegating tasks wasn’t one of them.
“You’re not the only one here with training to disarm traps,” Willy snorted.
Martin actually seemed shocked.
“You’ll go in?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
Willy actually laughed. Was this how the prince felt when people doubted his skills? It was bit like asking how could a person walk on a road and not fear getting run over.
“Danger is nothing to a thief,” he declared. “We thrive on it! Now, don’t follow too closely now. I’d rather our prince doesn’t get hurt.”
Without giving them time to argue, he carefully walked down the hall, keeping his eyes on the move, searching for the slightest thing out of place. A reflection of light that shouldn’t be there, a stone slightly out of place, dirt where there should be none. He had been a thief for so long, picking out these details were second nature to him.
The traps were easy to disengage, once he knew where they were. They were simple traps, wires, pressure, even a drop trap. The others followed behind him, at a safe careful distance. Even Prince Martin, though Willy suspected that it was because his Ghosts kept him back.
They were nearing the end of the hall when Willy came across a trap he knew was meant to not be disarmed. It was all the traps combined in one huge knot. He could see trap wires, stones replaced by fake stone that would crumble the moment someone stepped on it, and several artfully placed spears ready to come down on anyone who came that way.
“I don’t think Terk wants you coming through here,” Willy called out behind him.
“Then we should go this way,” Art laughed. “Anything to annoy the Mad General.”
Martin frowned, seeing the traps. He tried to take a step forward, but Clary was quick to grab his arm. The prince rolled his eyes and stopped.
“We can’t go through here,” he concluded bitterly. “We’ll have to back track.”
“Charge!”
The soldiers whipped around, suddenly engaged with the enemy again. Willy watched with horror as his allies fought. He was a thief, not a soldier. Prince Martin quickly joined his men, fighting along side them.
It’s all his fault! Willy thought, gridding his teeth together. If he hadn’t made that deal with us, I’d be safe at the Stand now!
Ah, said a quiet part of his mind, one he always tried to block out. The one that always told him to do good deeds. But if you hadn’t made the deal with the prince, Steve would still be a noble bastard, not a spymaster’s apprentice.
Willy flinched at the thought. It was true. Without Martin, his nephew wouldn’t be happy right now.
“Curse the man,” he grumbled, spinning around to look at the trap.
He never wanted to live forever anyway.
*******
BANG!
Martin spun around, numb by the sight that greeted him.
Willy had walked into the trap and set it all off. The thief lay in the middle of the trap, a half dozen spears piercing his body.
“Willy!” Martin screamed. He jumped over a fallen enemy and rushed to the thief’s side. The trap was set up to only go off once and the thief had taken it all.
“Ouch,” Willy said, his eyes going in and out of focus.
“Willy,” Martin said again, dropping to his knees. “What have you done!”
“Done?” Willy chuckled, coughing a bit. “I’m a thief, you silly prince. I’ve just stolen myself from your justice.”
“You didn’t need to do this,” he said, shivering. Another person who was willing to die for him! True, Willy was a thief, generally not a good person, but he was Aeternan. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with the war. He was brought into it by him. Martin wanted to curse himself. Another person was going to die because of him!
“Course I didn’t need to do this,” Willy said weakly, the life draining out of him. “I had to.”
“Why?” Martin demanded to know, refusing to cry. He and Willy had been on opposite sides for a long time. They weren’t even friends!
“I told you before,” Willy said, staring at him. “I love Aeterna. I’ll do anything for my nation. Even steal my own life.” Martin remembered that day, nearly two years before when the Stand had been taken over.
Willy’s just as much as an Aeternan as I am, Martin thought, finally realizing what the thief was saying. Tears finally came. They both loved their nation. They weren’t different at all.
“Make sure Steve stays out of trouble,” Willy asked.
“I can’t promise that,” Martin said, smiling a bit. “He’s my apprentice.”
Willy chuckled. “I guess that’s true. Just don’t get him killed.” He gulped. “And… tell him I’m proud of him.”
“I will.”
“Good,” Willy said with a sigh, closing his eyes. “Now, get going, prince. I’d much rather die in peace.”
Martin nodded, standing up. He wasn’t about to take away the thief’s last request. Looking down the now cleared hall, Martin could see the double doors that led into the throne room.
Terk was close.
“We’re coming, Terk!” the Spirit screamed in his ears. “Prepare yourself!”
Martin ran for the door. The others didn’t notice. They were too busy fighting the enemy. They could take care of them.
This fight was between Martin and Terk.
The double doors burst open before he reached them, the power of the land flowing through him. Martin kept running, not knowing what to expect or what he was going to do. But there was one thing he did know.
It was all coming to the end.
**********
This is a good time to leave off, don’t you think? Enjoy the journey!
************
Bang!
“Well,” Martin said, glancing up at the tunnel ceiling as it finished shaking. “It seems that Thomas’s new toy just destroyed another of Terk’s weapon catches.”
“Aren’t you worried that he’s going to take Aeternan weapons?” Willy asked. Martin glanced at the thief, wondering just how much weight he had lost. They had been making rounds to all the stations underground. Although Martin would have liked to be above ground, fighting with everyone else, he knew his place was now here, encouraging the men and giving them hope.
“I’m not worried about that,” he said as he kept walking. Thomas’s station was the last one for the day and Martin really wanted to get to the command center. Steve had been tracking Terk’s movements. He was due back soon and then they could begin planning their final attack on Terk.
“Why aren’t you worried?” Willy asked, catching up with him. Martin was vaguely reminded of another tunnel in which he and Willy walked side by side, working together against a common foe. War certainly brought unlikely allies together.
“Because most of the weapons are down here,” Martin explained. “As Terk was attacking, everyone who came underground were told to take as many weapons with them as they could. I doubt there’s enough weapons above ground for Terk to replace the ones Thomas just destroyed.”
Willy stared at him, a bit amazed. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”
“Not really,” Martin said, shrugging. “I just came up with the original plan.”
“Luring Terk into a trap with you as bait?” Willy shrewdly guessed.
“Yes,” he admitted. “But the rest of the Ghosts helped with the rest of it.”
Willy shook his head. “When are you going to take credit?”
Martin paused. “Excuse me?” he asked, frowning at the thief.
“You’re always trying to pass the credit on someone else,” Willy pointed out. “Oh, there are some things you boast about, but you hardly ever do it. You need to take more credit for what you’ve done. Perhaps then the nobles will stop questioning you.”
Martin thought about it, grudgingly admitting to himself that Willy had a point. While the nobles he had rescued the day before had settled into their new surroundings, there were still some mutterings, mostly from Nick. While Martin was sure he would never stop Nick from complaining, he wondered if he just acted a bit more arrogant, they would finally stop questioning what he was doing.
When they arrived at the command center, Steve was already there, chatting away with Sara. Martin was a bit surprised by how good of friends the two were. They couldn’t have meet more than a handful of times, and only for short periods of time at that. While he couldn’t confirm what he observed with his powers, he was certain that Steve and Sara were attracted to each other.
I would have never put them together, he thought, smiling a bit. While it might take a while, he wouldn’t be surprised in the future if the two grew to be more than friends.
“I’d never thought I’d see my nephew fall for a girl,” Willy grumbled under his breath, also spotting the two from across the room. “And a princess at that too!”
“It’s too soon to say anything,” Martin pointed out.
“I still don’t have to like it.”
Martin chuckled and crossed the room. Sara was the first to spot him, blushing as she realized that he had caught her talking with Steve.
“I’ve got to go,” she said as he approached. “I want to talk with Sona. Bye!” She rushed into the hall of offices, where Sona had barred herself to keep people from staring at her.
“Ah, uncle,” Steve groaned, turning to notice them. “Do you always have to ruin my chances with a girl?” He blushed a bit when he remembered who else was there. “No offense or anything, Martin. I mean… She is your sister…”
“Steve,” Martin said, trying hard not to smile. “Don’t say anything. You’ll make it worse.”
Steve closed his mouth, nodding his head.
“Did you get the information we need?”
“I’d be a poor excuse of a spy apprentice if I didn’t.”
“Good. Let’s gather the Ghosts.”
********
“So that’s it then?” Dixon asked. He and the other Ghosts were in his office, standing around his desk and studying the map that Steve had drawn out for them of the palace and grounds. It marked where the soldiers were camped, where people were held prisoners, and where Terk and his commanding officers stayed. Dixon glanced over at the prince. Martin sat at behind the desk, his eyes focused on the map.
“It appears so,” Martin answered, his expression blank.
“Then we’re going to attack tomorrow?” Art asked, sitting down on the edge of the desk.
“Steve did say that the mages have exhausted their magic trying to find you,” Clary added. “Putting that Inhibitor on you was a good way of tricking them to waste their magic. They spent so much trying to find nothing that they shouldn’t be able to fight.”
“That was the other idea of using the Inhibitor,” Martin confessed. Dixon wasn’t surprised by the prince’s lack of emotion. It may unnerve others for a commanding officer to show no emotion, but Dixon knew better. Martin was just so good at controlling what he wanted people to see. And the people needed to see a man in control, someone ready to make decisions without the heat of the moment to cloud their judgment.
If there ever was someone to make decisions, it’s Martin, Dixon thought proudly. The prince never thought in just logic or just by emotions. He used both aspects of his character to think, to act. It was what made him a great commander, a compassionate commander.
“Tomorrow it is,” Irvin agreed. “The war will end tomorrow.”
“One way or another,” Martin said softly. “The war will end.”
*********
Martin had trouble sleeping that night. He tried every trick he knew whenever he couldn’t sleep. He had pulled out a large book on the history of plants and read that for an hour, but that didn’t help. He would have worked on paperwork, but, surprisingly this close to battle, he didn’t have any. He walked around his office a few times, but that only increased his wakefulness.
Maybe I can’t fall asleep because I don’t have Tobby, he thought, smiling a bit. It was a ridiculous idea, but it did get him to smile.
Life was going to be different after today.
Without knowing what else to do, he just laid down, resting his eyes. He eventually fell asleep but he woke up too soon at the quiet knock at his door.
“Martin?” Sona asked, opening the door wide enough to poke her head through. “It’s time to get up.”
“Already?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “It can’t be that soon, can it?”
“I’m afraid it is,” she said, walking into the office. She carried a tray of food and put it down on his desk. “Everyone’s getting ready. You should too.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be ready for this,” he grumbled, sitting up.
Sona chuckled and kissed him on the forehead. “Just remember, after all this is over, you can finally ask me that question.”
“I’d still like to ask it now.”
“No,” she said firmly. Kissing him again, she left the office, leaving him alone to prepare.
Martin couldn’t take more than a few bites, then put on his uniform. It wasn’t an exact Ghost uniform, but it was similar. It was dark blue with silver trimming. It seemed a bit odd to Martin now that the Ghosts always sported the Santer family colors.
Then again, he thought, buttoning his coat on, I shouldn’t be so surprised. Ghosts vow to protect Aeterna and it’s rulers. It only made sense that they wear the Santer colors.
He tugged on his sleeves, making sure his scars were covered. His uniform had no medals, no crests embroidered on his chest. The only difference his uniform had from the Ghosts was the red sash he wore around his waist. He glanced at the mirror in his office, thinking to judge how he looked.
Of course there was no reflection.
“Why can’t I still see myself?” Martin asked, half expecting an answer.
But there was no answer.
He wasn’t connected to the land.
Feeling nervous and a bit down, he left his office, mentally preparing himself. The other Ghosts and Sona stood waiting out in the hall, talking quietly. They hushed as he approached.
“How do I look?” he asked, holding his hands out to the side a bit. “I can’t tell.”
The others chuckled.
“Still no reflection, huh?” Art teased. Sona shook her head at the Ghost and came to his side. She smoothed his hair a bit and straightened his collar.
“There,” she said, tugging down on his coat one last time. “You’re ready to go.”
“Everyone’s assembled,” Dixon said, nodding his head back to where everyone had gathered. “Shall we go?”
Martin nodded, his mouth suddenly going dry. They walked together into the main storage room. It had been emptied of supplies and people now filled it. Martin was glad that he wasn’t connected to them now, though he knew what they were feeling. The faces were anxious, some fearful, others grim with determination. Some of these faces were going to be missing by the end of the day.
Martin quickly shook that thought out of his head. They had all agreed to be here. They were all ready to do what they must to protect their homes and families.
They were no less dedicated than he was.
A makeshift stage had been built. No one was on it. Martin wondered if the Ghosts decided that no one would be on it to make him more nervous. He hated being the center of attention. He didn’t know how much more center of attention he could get than being the only one on a raised stage before an army ready for battle.
“I hate giving speeches,” he muttered under his breath as he approached the stage.
“Funny thing for you to say,” Sona teased him softly. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good luck.”
He nodded and mounted the stage. The room was hushed, a few scuffles of tired feet trying to find relief, rustle of cloth as people moved to get a better view of him, a couple coughs. Martin took a deep breath, trying hard not to think of all the eyes on him. He was their prince, their future king.
They really deserved better than him.
“Today is the day,” Martin started off, his stomach rolling. He was glad that he didn’t have much to eat that morning. “Today is the day we fight to end a war.”
Cheers agreed with him. Martin held his hands up, the army’s cheers dying down.
“It’s been a long war,” he told them, forcing himself to look these men in the eyes. “We’ve all suffered much because of it.” He could see tears and nods among them. “We’ve lost property.” His face. “We’ve lost family.” His father. “We’ve lost friends.” Luke.
Martin felt his throat clog. “There’s so much all of us have lost,” he said, forcing the words out. “Not just you. Not just me. But all of Aeterna has lost much.” There was no sound now, no one moved. “We are all here today because we have something to fight for, something to protect, something to take back.
“And today we take our nation back,” he declared. “Terk has no right to be on Aeternan soil any longer. Today! Aeterna will be ours again!”
Cheers shook the room, vibrating the wooden stage he stood on.
“Prepare yourselves!” Martin shouted over the noise. “We’re taking Aeterna back!”
**********
“You gave that speech without even being linked to the land,” Art said, shaking his head. “I guess that blows my theory.”
Martin had nearly collapsed in relief as he stepped off the stage and the army divided into ranks. Everyone had a section of Nacre to take back. His and the Ghosts were the palace. It only made sense that they took the palace back. However, Martin needed a few minutes to himself to recover from his speech. He sat back in his office, taking small sips of water. Sona stood over him to make sure of it.
“And what’s theory is that?” he asked, his stomach not rolling so much.
“That the Connection gave you the power to talk!”
The other Ghosts chuckled. “One does not become a great leader by having power,” Dixon pointed out smugly. “Its character that gives a man the ability to lead.”
“Besides,” a new voice said. “Didn’t I always say that Martin would be a great leader one day?”
Art, Martin, and Sona froze. Stiffly, Art turned to face the door, his face paling.
There was no mistaking who stood in the door. A prideful old man, Commander Doug Suit always had a dangerous presence around him. He could have been Art’s twin, except for being nearly thirty years older, already greying short hair, and mustache.
“Da,” Art said, his voice cracking. Martin couldn’t blame Art. The last time the two had been in the same room, harsh words had damaged their relationship. Though Art said very little about his dad other than he was a scary person, Art never voiced how he feared he had disappointed his father.
“Son,” Suit said. His eyes quickly swept the room. He bowed slightly towards Martin. “Your Highness.”
“Commander,” Martin said, standing up. “It’s good that you could join us.”
“And miss out on the adventure of a lifetime?” Suit asked, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t miss it. Besides,” he said, glancing at his nervous son. “I want to be by my son’s side as he becomes a hero.”
Art gulped, tears coming to his eyes. “Thanks, da,” he said softly.
“We should go,” Martin suggested. “We’ll meet up again when we reach the palace.” He and the Ghosts then filed out of the room, leaving the Spy Master with his son. Sona was the last to leave, closing the door softly behind them.
“You asked Suit to be here?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his.
He shrugged. “Actually, Suit asked to come.” He glanced at the room. “I always knew that Suit wanted to make amends with Art, but he never knew when the time was right. I guess he thought now was the time.”
“There’s no better time,” Irvin pointed out. “We don’t know if we’re going to survive this.” That dampened the mood quickly.
Martin sighed. “We’ll hope for the best.”
“Speaking of the best,” Clary said. “Shouldn’t you unInhibit yourself now?”
Martin nodded. Silently, Sona took the Inhibitor out of her pouch, quickly clicking it off, and handed it to him. He dropped to his knees as the pain took him again, screaming filling his ears. He gritted his teeth, knowing this pain wouldn’t last much longer.
“Finally!” he heard. “What took you so long?”
“Don’t complain,” Martin muttered, getting back to his feet. “I could have waited until after the war.” The others weren’t even bothered that he was talking to a voice in his head.
The Spirit snorted. “You wouldn’t dare. Terk hurt us too, you know. We demand justice. The only way we can do that is through you. You’re not doing this alone.”
No, he wasn’t alone. Martin straightened his shoulders.
It was time to go.
**********
There were no tunnels that led right into the palace.
Not that that mattered much.
Martin stood before the gates of the palace, staring up the iron wrought gate. He was a bit surprised to find the gates closed. But then again, he should be. Terk would know that this was a trap. He would have done everything he could to protect himself from that trap.
Behind him, his portion of the army was coming out of the tunnels, making a racket doing it. There wasn’t much point to hiding though. Terk would know they were coming anyway. He couldn’t keep Nacre for that much longer.
“So,” Art said, standing beside him. “What’s the plan to get in there?”
“I assume he’s going to use his powers,” Suit suggested, coming up from behind. “Sometimes brute strength has its merits.”
Art shook his head, smiling a bit. “Never thought I’d hear you say something like that, da.”
“He has a point,” Martin said, his senses already focused on the metal gate. “We’re here to root Terk out of Aeterna. We’ll need to be forceful to do it.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Step back everyone! I’ll take care of this!”
The army around him hung back, even the Ghosts. Sona wasn’t with them. Martin had asked her to remain in the tunnels with the other women and nobles. Surprisingly she agreed. When he asked why, she simply stated that she wasn’t cut out for battle. The one for her home valley had been enough for her.
Now it was time for him to take back his own home.
“Alright, Aeterna,” he said softly. “Let’s do this.”
“Finally!” the Spirit practically screamed in his ear. “Let’s unleash our powers!”
Martin put his hand on the gate, his Connection comfortingly on. He needed all the control he could get today. Taking a deep breath, he commanded the gate to open.
BANG!
The gates burst away from him, swinging inward. Behind the gates, Venter soldiers were unprepared for the gate to suddenly open. Most of them were probably expecting a battering ram.
They weren’t expecting the prince to simply order the gate open.
“Charge!” Martin yelled, running forward. He had no sword, no visible weapon as he ran at the enemy. He had given up on trying to be something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a sword master, spearman, or even an archer. He was a fist and knife master, his weapons were his speed and body. He was more dangerous without a weapon in his hands. No one stood a chance against him.
The clash with the gate guards was brutally short. Within minutes, the gate was in their possession. Martin couldn’t remember much of it, just action and reaction, flowing from one enemy to another. Rarely a face of a fellow Aeternan entered the scene and the prince rushed to help. Then it was back to the enemy, tearing them down literally with his bare hands.
“RETREAT!”
The enemy soldiers were quick to follow the order, running away. Martin and his men stayed by the gate. They had won it but now they had to keep it.
“That went well,” Dixon said with heavy breath of battle, walking up to him. Martin stood in the center of the open gate, finally taking in the entire scene and staring at the horror around him. Men from both sides lay on the ground, blood beginning to soak the soil. There were moans, groans, and cries from the injured. It wasn’t his first battle, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. But it still hurt and horrified him.
And there were familiar faces.
Devin and Trey lay among the dead.
“It hurts you,” Dixon said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t it?”
“I feel no life in them,” Martin whispered, trying hard not to shiver. “I know the others are feeling pain…” He closed his eyes tight. He wanted so badly to block the emotions of those around him, but he couldn’t. He had led them to this. They agreed to come. They all knew what they were willing to do. He had to stop thinking that he was the only one who should get hurt. These men were just as dedicated as he was.
It still hurt.
“Let’s go,” Martin finally said, forcing himself to walk away from the dead. “We can’t let Terk get away.”
“Men!” he heard Dixon behind him. “Time to move out! Jared! Your team stay here and hold the gate!”
No one is coming, Martin thought, gazing up at the palace. The army that had been camped out on the grounds were gone, disappeared inside the moment they had spotted the enemy approach. Terk knew the palace would be a better battleground than outside. At least inside, only so many men could fit in the corridors.
“Watch out, Terk,” he muttered darkly, marching forward. “I’m coming.”
*********
“Hey, Martin?” Willy asked, finishing off a Venter soldier with a blow to the head with his cane. “Do you even know where Terk is?”
The prince stood up from his crouch, the man he was fighting unconscious on the floor. Willy was always amazed when the prince fought. It was almost like watching a circus act, perfectly timed and executed. Only he was far more deadly.
“Aeterna says that he’s in the throne room,” he answered, glancing around the hall. Around them, men were fighting. The Ghosts fought along side regular soldiers, jumping in to help a fallen comrade. Willy didn’t know many of them, few he could pick out from sight, but the names were lost. But that didn’t matter in this fight. They fought with heart and determination. The Venter soldiers were sluggish and slow, the results of their long march and the constant harassment the Aeternans had given them once they arrived.
Terk was quickly loosing the battle and he wasn’t anywhere near the fighting.
“Why the throne room?” Willy grunted as he knocked another man down. He always liked the cane as a weapon. No one expected him to bash in people’s skulls with a ruby.
“I don’t know,” Martin admitted, twisting away in time to avoid an arrow aimed to maim him. “But that’s where I’ve got to go.”
“Then count me in,” Willy barked. “Lead on!”
Martin darted forward, dodging attacks and attacking at the same time. Willy was a bit slower in following. He lacked the grace of a fighter, but he was deadly with his cane. There was a reason he earned the nickname the Horrid.
They broke through the mass of the fighting. The Venter soldiers on the outside of the knot weren’t anxious to engage in battle and quickly fled as he and the prince penetrated their side.
“Cowards!” Willy yelled, shaking his cane at them. “Come back and fight us like men!”
“I wouldn’t call them cowards,” Martin suggested, frowning as he watched the soldiers flee. “There must be something… Look out!”
Willy suddenly found himself on the ground, the prince laying next to him. Glancing back to where they had been standing, there was now a huge chunk missing from the floor.
I didn’t hear anything, he realized, staring though not really knowing what was happening.
“Great,” Martin muttered, sitting up. “They’ve booby trapped the way to Terk.”
“Booby trapped?” Willy repeated.
“Why else would you think they’d run?” Martin grunted, sitting up. “I’m guessing they had a bomb right there. The only reason we’re not blown up right now is because Aeterna warned me.”
“It should be a bit faster with those warnings,” Willy grumbled. “We can’t afford to loose you.”
“Martin! Willy!”
They turned to find the Ghosts and soldiers had finished taking care of the enemy. Dixon was the first there, helping the prince to his feet.
“What happened?” he asked.
“This hall is booby trapped,” Martin explained, nodding to the hole in the floor. “We’re going to have to go another way to the throne room.”
“But that could take a long time,” Art complained. “I’d rather have this war done and over with today.”
“I don’t see much choice in the matter,” the prince began to point out.
“Why don’t you use your powers to just get rid of all the traps?” Willy suggested, struggling to his feet.
“Because that would take a lot of concentration,” Martin sighed. “And the Spirit isn’t much into concentrating right now. I’ve allowed it to use a lot of power in just a few hours and it doesn’t want to stop. I’m more likely to blow up the hall than ‘get rid’ of the traps.”
“Then the easiest thing to do,” Willy concluded, “is for someone to walk in and disarm all the traps.”
“I doubt they’ll let me go through there,” Martin began to point out. Of course the prince would only think of putting himself in danger. Willy shook his head. While Martin was very good at many things, delegating tasks wasn’t one of them.
“You’re not the only one here with training to disarm traps,” Willy snorted.
Martin actually seemed shocked.
“You’ll go in?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
Willy actually laughed. Was this how the prince felt when people doubted his skills? It was bit like asking how could a person walk on a road and not fear getting run over.
“Danger is nothing to a thief,” he declared. “We thrive on it! Now, don’t follow too closely now. I’d rather our prince doesn’t get hurt.”
Without giving them time to argue, he carefully walked down the hall, keeping his eyes on the move, searching for the slightest thing out of place. A reflection of light that shouldn’t be there, a stone slightly out of place, dirt where there should be none. He had been a thief for so long, picking out these details were second nature to him.
The traps were easy to disengage, once he knew where they were. They were simple traps, wires, pressure, even a drop trap. The others followed behind him, at a safe careful distance. Even Prince Martin, though Willy suspected that it was because his Ghosts kept him back.
They were nearing the end of the hall when Willy came across a trap he knew was meant to not be disarmed. It was all the traps combined in one huge knot. He could see trap wires, stones replaced by fake stone that would crumble the moment someone stepped on it, and several artfully placed spears ready to come down on anyone who came that way.
“I don’t think Terk wants you coming through here,” Willy called out behind him.
“Then we should go this way,” Art laughed. “Anything to annoy the Mad General.”
Martin frowned, seeing the traps. He tried to take a step forward, but Clary was quick to grab his arm. The prince rolled his eyes and stopped.
“We can’t go through here,” he concluded bitterly. “We’ll have to back track.”
“Charge!”
The soldiers whipped around, suddenly engaged with the enemy again. Willy watched with horror as his allies fought. He was a thief, not a soldier. Prince Martin quickly joined his men, fighting along side them.
It’s all his fault! Willy thought, gridding his teeth together. If he hadn’t made that deal with us, I’d be safe at the Stand now!
Ah, said a quiet part of his mind, one he always tried to block out. The one that always told him to do good deeds. But if you hadn’t made the deal with the prince, Steve would still be a noble bastard, not a spymaster’s apprentice.
Willy flinched at the thought. It was true. Without Martin, his nephew wouldn’t be happy right now.
“Curse the man,” he grumbled, spinning around to look at the trap.
He never wanted to live forever anyway.
*******
BANG!
Martin spun around, numb by the sight that greeted him.
Willy had walked into the trap and set it all off. The thief lay in the middle of the trap, a half dozen spears piercing his body.
“Willy!” Martin screamed. He jumped over a fallen enemy and rushed to the thief’s side. The trap was set up to only go off once and the thief had taken it all.
“Ouch,” Willy said, his eyes going in and out of focus.
“Willy,” Martin said again, dropping to his knees. “What have you done!”
“Done?” Willy chuckled, coughing a bit. “I’m a thief, you silly prince. I’ve just stolen myself from your justice.”
“You didn’t need to do this,” he said, shivering. Another person who was willing to die for him! True, Willy was a thief, generally not a good person, but he was Aeternan. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with the war. He was brought into it by him. Martin wanted to curse himself. Another person was going to die because of him!
“Course I didn’t need to do this,” Willy said weakly, the life draining out of him. “I had to.”
“Why?” Martin demanded to know, refusing to cry. He and Willy had been on opposite sides for a long time. They weren’t even friends!
“I told you before,” Willy said, staring at him. “I love Aeterna. I’ll do anything for my nation. Even steal my own life.” Martin remembered that day, nearly two years before when the Stand had been taken over.
Willy’s just as much as an Aeternan as I am, Martin thought, finally realizing what the thief was saying. Tears finally came. They both loved their nation. They weren’t different at all.
“Make sure Steve stays out of trouble,” Willy asked.
“I can’t promise that,” Martin said, smiling a bit. “He’s my apprentice.”
Willy chuckled. “I guess that’s true. Just don’t get him killed.” He gulped. “And… tell him I’m proud of him.”
“I will.”
“Good,” Willy said with a sigh, closing his eyes. “Now, get going, prince. I’d much rather die in peace.”
Martin nodded, standing up. He wasn’t about to take away the thief’s last request. Looking down the now cleared hall, Martin could see the double doors that led into the throne room.
Terk was close.
“We’re coming, Terk!” the Spirit screamed in his ears. “Prepare yourself!”
Martin ran for the door. The others didn’t notice. They were too busy fighting the enemy. They could take care of them.
This fight was between Martin and Terk.
The double doors burst open before he reached them, the power of the land flowing through him. Martin kept running, not knowing what to expect or what he was going to do. But there was one thing he did know.
It was all coming to the end.
**********
This is a good time to leave off, don’t you think? Enjoy the journey!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Terk’s Worst Enemy
Everyone ready for more story? I know it’s a day early, but I’m attending a funeral tomorrow for my Aunt Mary. There won’t be time tomorrow for this. Therefore, I present it now (before we get all teary-eyed tomorrow). To the story!
**********
Serene couldn’t breathe, her arms huddled close to her chest. The others were in the same state of shock that she was in. Prince Martin, dressed as a farmer, stood over the killed spy. The spy he had killed.
I just watched a man be killed, Serene thought, horrified.
Killed by the Crown Prince.
“You killed him!”
Serene jumped and turned to Lord Nick. The nobleman had taken a step forward, his face pale and his expression horrified. “You killed him!” he yelled again.
“Tracker has murdered countless of innocent lives,” Prince Martin snorted, bending down and taking the knife out of the spy. “I did the world a favor by getting rid of him. And don’t act so shocked. We’re at war.” He wiped the blood off the blade with the dead man’s clothes before sheaving the knife in his boot. Reaching over, he grabbed the fallen wig and glasses before standing.
“Martin,” Sara said, her voice quivering. “You’re bleeding.”
Serene did a double take, as did the prince, to his upper arm. A shallow cut seeped his shirt with blood.
“So I am,” he muttered, lifting his arm so he could look at it more closely. “Well,” he sighed, letting his arm drop. “That’s just another scar. I’ll survive.” He then put the wig on, carefully tucking his short hair under it.
“We’ve cleared the building,” a soldier reported, bursting into the room. “We’re safe to leave.”
“Good,” Martin said in his underclass accent, putting the glasses on again. “I suggest we get a movin’. I’d rather not be meetin’ any more o’ Terk’s mad puppets.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “They know who you are, Martin,” she said. “Why the disguise?”
Her brother winked at her. “Because Terk’s puppets don’t know who I am. I’d rather keep it that way. Shall we go?”
As before, they were herded out of the building, kept in a tight group as the guards surrounded them. Serene kept her head down, her eyes on the ground. This was too much. She was raised as a noblewoman, a gentle soul with only politicking and balls to fill her days. She wasn’t used to being captured, rescued, or watching people die.
And Prince Martin seemed used to it.
She couldn’t suppress her shiver.
The rescuers took them to another abandoned building, though she couldn’t tell what it used to be before it was abandoned. There was nothing inside except for debris. The only thing she could tell was the strong smell of fish.
“We’ll wait here for a bit,” the prince announced as the rescuers took positions around the building.
“Why?” Sara asked. Serene glanced up to see the princess wrinkle her nose at the smell. Her brother had taken off the wig and glasses, running a hand through his short hair. At least she knew now why he kept his hair unfashionably short. It was probably easier to put wigs on with short hair.
“Because we’ve got to wait for the tunnel to open,” the prince explained. “I’d much rather not have Terk discover where I’ve hidden my army. So we have no codes to open the tunnels. It just opens at certain times.”
“Army?” Lady Rose asked, turning to him in surprise. “What army?”
“The one he’s been secretly building since he got here,” Sara snorted. “My fool of a brother decided to end this war and to do that by capturing Terk. And to do that,” the princess went on with heat in her voice, “he became the bait!”
“You’re still not angry about that, are you?” Martin asked, half smiling at his sister’s anger. “The plan is going great.” He paused. “Except for you getting captured, but we worked around that. And speaking of working…” He leveled all of them a steady gaze, one that had them standing straight with attention.
“I know Tracker said a lot of things about me,” he said sternly. “And I’m sorry that you heard it. I will need your word that you will never repeat what he said and what you learned about me.”
“Then it’s true?” Serene asked, surprising herself by speaking. “You were a street urchin?”
“And I’m the Spy Alex,” the prince confirmed. “I became the Alex before I was the prince. One of my first assignments was at the Stand. I called myself Ghost Eighty-One there to keep people from asking about me. After it was discovered who I was, they decided that I should become Ghost Eighty-One. All the news reports about the battles I’ve won in the last six months are true.”
“My brother,” Sara sighed, sounding both exasperated and proud. “An Aeternan Hero!”
The prince snorted. “But no one is going to know about my acts as the Spy Alex or my sorry childhood story.” He turned his powerful gaze on all of them. “Your word you won’t say anything.”
“And if we won’t give it?” Nick asked. Serene flinched. There was too much glee in the nobleman’s tone to be good. This was exactly what Nick had been looking for. The dirty secret that could tarnish the prince’s reputation, and thus ruin his chances to the throne.
“You’re already forgetting I’m the Alex,” Martin said coldly. “I could blackmail you better than you could me.”
Nick gaped, a sorry sound escaping his mouth that could only mean that the prince had a point.
“You have my word!” Lady Rose said quickly, flashing a smile that seemed uneasy. “I will keep your secret!”
The other nobles began voicing their words, as did Serene. She had no desire to share that information anyway. The world of spies was far beyond her. She much rather not get involved.
Finally even Nick gave his word.
“Good,” Martin snorted. “Now, you might as well get comfortable. We’re going to have to wait for a bit.” He walked away, approaching one of the rescuers and having a quiet conversation with them.
Serene looked around for someplace to sit. She eventually decided to clear a space by the wall and sat with her back against it. Around her, the other nobles did the same. She sighed as she rested her head against the rough brick, closing her eyes. It had been a long day. More than a day, really. It was yesterday when she was captured. Now she had been rescued but still uncertain what was happening.
She wasn’t certain when her trouble thoughts gave in to sleep, but she did wake up to the quiet, harsh whispers beside her.
“He’s a street urchin!” Nick hissed. “Are we really going to be letting a street urchin on the throne?”
Serene quietly groaned. They hadn’t been rescued for more than a few hours and Nick was already complaining. And plotting.
“It does seem like a stretch,” Lady Rose agreed hesitantly. “But the Connection…”
“I’m telling you,” Nick insisted. “The Connection proves he’s a Santer. But he’s no prince! You saw what he did tonight! He killed that man! And now we learn that he grew up on the streets! Of Loman no less! He’s no prince!”
Serene opened her eyes, ready to argue with Nick. Just because Prince Martin had grown up on the streets didn’t mean anything. He was a Santer. It was his rightful place to be the prince. However, before she could say anything, someone else did.
“I owe Aeterna everything.”
Startled, the three of them glanced up. Prince Martin sat in a window, staring out to Nacre’s darkened streets, though his eyes seemed distant. He didn’t wear the wig or glasses, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the terrible scars of his childhood.
“What?” Nick asked, either unbothered that the prince had heard him or pretending that it didn’t.
“I owe Aeterna everything,” Prince Martin repeated, his voice soft, respectful. “I was going to be killed on the streets. The teen gangs thought that I was rising above my place as an urchin. They had plans to kill me.” He sighed, glancing down at the scars on his arms. “But what Tracker said was right. An Aeternan found me. He brought me here before the teens could kill me.” He then glanced down at them.
“I dedicated myself to Aeterna,” he said. “Everything I am, everything I could be, is Aeterna’s. This nation saved my life, Nick. This nation took me in when no one else would. I was given opportunities here, ones I could never get on the streets of Loman. To a ten year old, Aeterna was the cure to my nightmare life.
“I would have been glad to continue serving Aeterna as a spy,” he went on. “But Aeterna demands more of me and I will answer to that demand. You think I shouldn’t be the prince because I grew up on the streets? I would argue different. I’ve already vowed my life to serve this nation. Being a Santer doesn’t change that. Isn’t that what you want in a prince?”
Nick stared up at the prince, his mouth moving with no sound coming out.
“I do,” Serene answered softly. Martin glanced at her. She felt herself blush. Despite the horrible things she had just witnessed and the terrible things she learned, he was still her prince. It was only now that she realized just how deeply Martin loved his nation.
“As do I.”
They turned as Sara approached. “My brother’s past doesn’t make him,” she said, smiling fondly at the prince. “It’s what he does that matters. And I know that he’s going to be the greatest king in our history because he just loves his nation so much.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Martin weakly chuckled. “I’m not a king yet. I’m still just a prince.”
“Details,” Sara brushed off.
“The tunnel’s open!”
Martin glanced towards the door where one soldier stood. “Well then,” he said, jumping off the window. “It’s time to disappear.”
*********
Sona was surprised when Ann Norman found her. She was busy helping some of the volunteers move supplies when the annoying reporter tapped her on the shoulder.
“What are you doing down here?” Sona blurted out.
Ann laughed. “Hello to you too!” She gazed around the room as only a reporter could, taking in details of who was where and doing what. “I’m here for a story. Why else would I be here?”
“How did you get down here?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. She didn’t like Ann at all. The reporter had no respect for a person’s privacy, nor did she know when to stop following for a story. At least Sona had learned there were limits to uncovering a person’s secrets.
“I followed one of the Ghosts down here,” Ann said with a smirk. “Irvin? I believe. I recognized him as one of our prince’s Ghosts and simply started following him. I’m glad I did. Our prince has been a busy boy, creating an army under Nacre this whole time? I bet he even planned on Terk following him here to Nacre.”
“That is the plan,” Sona sneered. “And it’s working, if you didn’t notice that.”
“I did notice,” Ann said, completely unconcerned with the tone Sona had taken to her. “Quite an ingenious plan. Lure Terk into a trap. Sabotage his army after a long march here.” She grinned. “It’s the end of the war and I’m in the middle of it!”
Sona sighed. It figured that Ann would only care about the story.
“Where’s the prince?” Ann suddenly asked. “I thought he’d be here directing the sabotage work.”
“He had to go get his sister,” Sona scoffed. “He should be back soon.” At least, she hoped so.
“Ah well,” Ann sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to return. I have so many questions about this. How did he manage to get an army into the city without any of us knowing?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Sona snorted. “They’ve been trickling into the city for well over a month now, ever since Martin returned.”
Ann blinked in surprise. “Really?” she asked excitedly. “They just trickled in?” She paused, realizing something. “You know the plan?”
Sona rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said, returning to her work, picking up a box and giving it to the person next in line. “I’ve been a part of it since Martin came.”
“Really?” Ann asked again, this time surprised. “Why?”
Sona glared at the reporter. “Don’t you know when to stop asking questions?”
“No,” Ann said bluntly. “Why would Martin want you in on his plans?”
Sona debated what to tell the reporter when a commotion came from the other side of the room. She knew immediately that it was Martin.
“Seems our prince is here,” Ann said, grinning. “Let’s go!” She hurried through the crowd, trying to get as close to the prince as possible. Sona didn’t have to hurry. Many of the people recognized her as one of the lead figures in this operation, even if they didn’t know what part she played. She didn’t mind that so much. She preferred that no one knew of the Inhibitor she kept safe.
Martin and the other rescuers were followed by the nobles they had rescued. Sara looked particularly relieved. Ann was jotting down names as they filed into the storage room.
“Wow,” she said with a grin. “He didn’t just rescue his sister. He rescued some of the most powerful future leaders. That’s got to bug Terk to no end.”
Sona rolled her eyes. “That’s the point,” she said.
Ann chose to ignore that remark. “Looks like Rose has some ideas,” she said instead, eyeing the young noblewoman with interest.
“What sort of ideas?” Sona asked. She didn’t know why she did. She had no reason to care about what Lady Rose did or think.
“I’m familiar with that girl,” Ann said, pointing to the noblewoman. “She’s caused scandals in a lot of circles. And I know that look in her eye. There’s a lot of people here and she’s just been rescued by one of the most powerful men in Aeterna. And if I’m judging her correctly, which I’ll bet money on, she’s going to give our prince a great big thank you kiss.”
Sona shook. “Kiss?” she repeated, trying hard not to stutter. “Kiss him?”
Ann shrugged. “That’s what she does. She loves an audience and she would love to be Prince Martin’s mysterious woman. With this many people to watch, she could get some solid rumors started.”
Sona wasn’t listening. She focused on the young noblewoman, noticing how she kept creeping closer and closer to the prince’s side, her lips curled in a smile. It was almost like watching a predator sneak up on its prey.
“Well,” she huffed. “She can’t have him.”
“Excuse me?” Ann asked, turning to her with a frown. Sona didn’t bother answering. She walked forward. Lady Rose wanted to be Martin’s mysterious woman, huh? Well, she had to fight the truth to get that!
“Martin!” Sona called, getting his attention.
He turned just as Lady Rose was behind him. The noblewoman was about to grab him when Sona called out. She looked a bit miffed for the delay.
“Sona?” he asked.
Before Rose could try again, Sona reached the prince. Without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she grabbed Martin by the hair and pulled him down to a kiss.
The room went silent.
When she broke the kiss, Sona knew her face was flaming. Even Martin was blushing. He obviously wasn’t expecting a short, though passionate, kiss. In front of everyone.
“What was that?” he asked softly so no one else could hear him.
“Just claiming you as mine,” she muttered, feeling very satisfied for saying it. Martin was hers. No title would ever change that!
Martin chuckled. “Well,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “If we’re going to play it that way…” He spun her into a dip and kissed her again. Sona returned the kiss with fervor, tangling her fingers in his hair.
He finally spun her back up, breaking the kiss. Before Sona could get her breath back, the room exploded in a very loud cheer. Art and Irvin were actually whooping, pumping their fists in the air. Sona covered her grin with a hand, knowing her face was bright red. Martin just chuckled, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist.
“Wait!” a voice pierced through the cheering. “How long have you two been courting!”
She and Martin turned enough to see Sara pointing at them, her jaw dropped and her eyes popping. Sona was satisfied to see the exact expression on Lady Rose’s face.
“Over a year now,” Martin admitted, grinning. “Though there were a few months when Sona hated my guts.”
“You didn’t tell me you were the prince,” Sona pointed out, trying hard not to laugh at Sara’s shock. “Of course I was mad.”
“I’m glad you’re not mad anymore,” Martin laughed, hugging her tight. Sona wanted to burst with happiness. It was nice to finally stop hiding the truth. They loved each other. That was all that really mattered.
She was about to make a remark when she felt something wet. Glancing at Martin’s arm, she finally noticed the cut.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, pulling away a bit to look him in the eye.
“Ah,” he said, glancing down at his arm. “Yeah. I haven’t had time to bandage it yet…”
“Well,” she snorted. “We should get that taken care of, now shouldn’t we?”
“But…” he said, glancing over the crowd. “We have some things to finish.”
“It’ll take a minute,” she promised. “Your office.”
“Alright,” Martin sighed, though he seemed happy. “Just let me get someone to help our guests comfortable. Steve!”
The young man burst from the crowd, looking a bit harried. No wonder, he had been helping his uncle move supplies. That was to say, he was moving supplies while his uncle watched. Steve froze when he spotted the company, his eyes wide. At first, Sona thought it was for the obvious reason. Martin hadn’t let go of her. But then she noticed that his eyes were locked on Sara’s.
Huh? She thought.
“Steve,” Martin said. “I need you to get these nobles comfortable.”
“Steve?” Sara asked. “You work for my brother?”
“You’re the princess?”
Martin blinked in surprise. He switched his gaze between the two. “You know each other.” It wasn’t a question.
“We’ve met in the palace,” Steve admitted, actually blushing. Sona had to suppress a snicker. So, it appeared that she and Martin weren’t the only ones to hide a relationship.
“Well, then,” Martin said, trying hard not to laugh. “I’ll leave it up to you to make sure she’s comfortable. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, Sona will not stop pestering me until my arm is bandaged.”
“You better believe it,” Sona snorted, allowing him to lead her away. “Someone’s got to push you around to take care of yourself.”
People made way for them, some snickering and romantic sighing following after them. Sona knew she was blushing, and she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but she was nearly bursting with joy. It didn’t matter anymore that she was a commoner and Martin was a prince. They were a couple that worked together, with each other, and cared deeply for one another. That was all that mattered.
When they got to his office, people were kind enough to give them some privacy and not wait at the door. Sona wondered just how that would last. No doubt someone would try listening in while she bandaged his arm.
Well, she thought, closing the door after they walked in, they won’t hear much. She wasn’t going to allow Martin to do any funny business.
“Shirt,” she ordered, searching one of the many traveling trunks for bandages. She leveled him a glare that told him not to argue. He took one look at her face and promptly began taking off his shirt. While he was at that, she found the bandages.
“I can’t believe you,” Martin chuckled, sitting down on the cot.
“Oh?” she asked, examining the wound. It was a clean cut, though his wandering around the tunnels had gotten some dirt in the wound. She walked over to the water basin, got a cloth wet, and returned to his side.
“That was quite a show,” Martin said, flinching a bit as she began to wash the cut. “I think Sara was going to burst when she saw it. She’s been trying to set me up with Serene for a month now. She didn’t even suspect that we could be courting.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Sona said as she began to wrap his arm. “Things change.”
“What changed your mind?”
It was an honest question. She had wanted to hide their relationship for so long. Why did she finally reveal the truth? She thought about it as she finished bandaging his arm. Her eyes wandered to his back. It was as horribly scarred as she remembered, though proper light made it worse. There wasn’t much of his back that was left unmarred. It horrified her to think that anyone would inflict that pain on anyone, much less a helpless ten year old. Hesitantly, she touched his back. Martin immediately shivered and began to shift away.
“No,” she said softly. “Don’t move.” She could tell it took him a lot of effort to stay still. She ran her fingers over the scars, tears coming to her eyes. Her Martin had endured so much pain.
“I changed my mind because of this,” she whispered, putting her entire hand on his back and began rubbing. He shivered even more.
“This?” he asked, closing his eyes. “My monstrous back?”
“No,” she said gently. “Because I knew that no one else would be able to get this close to you. You’ve been hurt for so long, you just never let people close. I had to fight my way towards you. You need me. You need me because I’m the only one who understands you. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know you’ve done everything you can to keep the past in the past.”
She continued to rub his back, feeling the harsh scars and how his muscles tightened. “And most importantly,” she went on. “I can’t bare the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t bare the thought of anyone else this close to you.”
Martin shivered again as she kept rubbing his back. “Is that all that it took to convince you?” he asked, finally opening his eyes and looking at her. “I should have shown you my back again sooner.”
Sona chuckled, resting her head down on his shoulder. They sat there in silence for a long time. Sona knew that neither of them minded the silence. What words mattered when they were in love?
“Sona,” Martin finally said after a while. “This war is going to end soon.”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath, taking her free hand in both of his. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Sona sat straight, looking him in the eye. “No!”
He blinked in surprise, hurt fluttering across his expression for a split second.
“No,” she repeated, less harshly. “I don’t want you to ask me that question now. Wait until the war is over.”
“Why until the war is over?” he asked, frowning.
“Because then you have a reason to survive to the end of the war.”
“I’d think I’d have more reason if I ask you know.”
“Humor me,” she said bluntly.
He smiled a bit then kissed her temple. “For you, my love, anything.”
********
Queen Abigail decided that she didn’t like being captured. True, it was only her second time, and her apartment was a much better confinement than the ballroom from last time, but she still didn’t like it. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she wasn’t allowed to leave her apartment; she was used to being able to go where she wanted, not trapped with nothing to do.
I guess I can understand my family now, she thought, thinking of her husband and children. They all enjoyed being outside the palace. Perhaps this was how they felt when they were trapped inside all day long.
Thankfully they weren’t trapped like she was.
Terk’s takeover had been quick and precise. Abigail wouldn’t be surprised if there were hardly any casualties.
Exactly as planned.
It was after dusk of the second day of Terk’s arrival that she finally had a visitor. She was in her favorite chair, reading a book, when the door burst open. Glancing up, she saw General Terk stomp into the room, his face enraged.
“Good evening, General,” she said, not letting her uneasiness show on her face. There was a reason why Terk was called the Mad General. She much rather not let him know just how much he actually scared her.
“Where is he?” Terk demanded to know, towering over her.
“He who?” she asked, glancing down at her book.
Terk made a strangled growl and knocked the book out of her hands.
“Now listen here,” he snapped, bending down over her, his hands planted on the arms of the chair. “I don’t have time for games. Where’s your brat?”
“I don’t know,” she said darkly, feeling strangely calm. This man was the reason why her family was torn apart. Instead of fear now at him, she could only feel hate. “Why don’t you have your mages try to find him? That’s what you did at the Stand, wasn’t it?”
“Your son somehow managed to mask his powers,” Terk growled. “And none of my patrols have been able to ferret him out. Now, I’ll ask again. Where is he?”
“And I told you,” she repeated. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he was going to do.”
Terk meet her eyes, searching for the truth. Abigail stared back into those black eyes, not bothering to hide her hate for him. He finally stood up, his eyes cold.
“I guess you don’t know,” he said softly, coldly. “Then I must resort to something else to pull him out into the open.” He turned on his heels and stalked out.
“Or you could wait a few days,” Abigail suggested.
Terk paused at the door. He half turned, his expression questioning. “Why?” he asked.
“You don’t think Martin would let you stay?” she asked, bending down to pick up her fallen book. “He wants you gone just as much as you want to have him gone. You’ve made your own worst enemy in Martin. You helped create what he is today.” She idly opened the book, slowly searching for her place again. “I wouldn’t want to be you when he finally comes after you.”
The door slammed shut.
Abigail smiled a bit. So, it seemed that the Mad General was scared of her son. She had suspected it, but now she had proof.
No, she wouldn’t want to be Terk when her son finally came after him.
**********
Again, I’d like to ask that you try to share this story with others. Last week, no one looked at my blog. I was very sad. But, hey, no one said getting published was going to be easy, right?
Thanks for everything! Enjoy the journey!
**********
Serene couldn’t breathe, her arms huddled close to her chest. The others were in the same state of shock that she was in. Prince Martin, dressed as a farmer, stood over the killed spy. The spy he had killed.
I just watched a man be killed, Serene thought, horrified.
Killed by the Crown Prince.
“You killed him!”
Serene jumped and turned to Lord Nick. The nobleman had taken a step forward, his face pale and his expression horrified. “You killed him!” he yelled again.
“Tracker has murdered countless of innocent lives,” Prince Martin snorted, bending down and taking the knife out of the spy. “I did the world a favor by getting rid of him. And don’t act so shocked. We’re at war.” He wiped the blood off the blade with the dead man’s clothes before sheaving the knife in his boot. Reaching over, he grabbed the fallen wig and glasses before standing.
“Martin,” Sara said, her voice quivering. “You’re bleeding.”
Serene did a double take, as did the prince, to his upper arm. A shallow cut seeped his shirt with blood.
“So I am,” he muttered, lifting his arm so he could look at it more closely. “Well,” he sighed, letting his arm drop. “That’s just another scar. I’ll survive.” He then put the wig on, carefully tucking his short hair under it.
“We’ve cleared the building,” a soldier reported, bursting into the room. “We’re safe to leave.”
“Good,” Martin said in his underclass accent, putting the glasses on again. “I suggest we get a movin’. I’d rather not be meetin’ any more o’ Terk’s mad puppets.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “They know who you are, Martin,” she said. “Why the disguise?”
Her brother winked at her. “Because Terk’s puppets don’t know who I am. I’d rather keep it that way. Shall we go?”
As before, they were herded out of the building, kept in a tight group as the guards surrounded them. Serene kept her head down, her eyes on the ground. This was too much. She was raised as a noblewoman, a gentle soul with only politicking and balls to fill her days. She wasn’t used to being captured, rescued, or watching people die.
And Prince Martin seemed used to it.
She couldn’t suppress her shiver.
The rescuers took them to another abandoned building, though she couldn’t tell what it used to be before it was abandoned. There was nothing inside except for debris. The only thing she could tell was the strong smell of fish.
“We’ll wait here for a bit,” the prince announced as the rescuers took positions around the building.
“Why?” Sara asked. Serene glanced up to see the princess wrinkle her nose at the smell. Her brother had taken off the wig and glasses, running a hand through his short hair. At least she knew now why he kept his hair unfashionably short. It was probably easier to put wigs on with short hair.
“Because we’ve got to wait for the tunnel to open,” the prince explained. “I’d much rather not have Terk discover where I’ve hidden my army. So we have no codes to open the tunnels. It just opens at certain times.”
“Army?” Lady Rose asked, turning to him in surprise. “What army?”
“The one he’s been secretly building since he got here,” Sara snorted. “My fool of a brother decided to end this war and to do that by capturing Terk. And to do that,” the princess went on with heat in her voice, “he became the bait!”
“You’re still not angry about that, are you?” Martin asked, half smiling at his sister’s anger. “The plan is going great.” He paused. “Except for you getting captured, but we worked around that. And speaking of working…” He leveled all of them a steady gaze, one that had them standing straight with attention.
“I know Tracker said a lot of things about me,” he said sternly. “And I’m sorry that you heard it. I will need your word that you will never repeat what he said and what you learned about me.”
“Then it’s true?” Serene asked, surprising herself by speaking. “You were a street urchin?”
“And I’m the Spy Alex,” the prince confirmed. “I became the Alex before I was the prince. One of my first assignments was at the Stand. I called myself Ghost Eighty-One there to keep people from asking about me. After it was discovered who I was, they decided that I should become Ghost Eighty-One. All the news reports about the battles I’ve won in the last six months are true.”
“My brother,” Sara sighed, sounding both exasperated and proud. “An Aeternan Hero!”
The prince snorted. “But no one is going to know about my acts as the Spy Alex or my sorry childhood story.” He turned his powerful gaze on all of them. “Your word you won’t say anything.”
“And if we won’t give it?” Nick asked. Serene flinched. There was too much glee in the nobleman’s tone to be good. This was exactly what Nick had been looking for. The dirty secret that could tarnish the prince’s reputation, and thus ruin his chances to the throne.
“You’re already forgetting I’m the Alex,” Martin said coldly. “I could blackmail you better than you could me.”
Nick gaped, a sorry sound escaping his mouth that could only mean that the prince had a point.
“You have my word!” Lady Rose said quickly, flashing a smile that seemed uneasy. “I will keep your secret!”
The other nobles began voicing their words, as did Serene. She had no desire to share that information anyway. The world of spies was far beyond her. She much rather not get involved.
Finally even Nick gave his word.
“Good,” Martin snorted. “Now, you might as well get comfortable. We’re going to have to wait for a bit.” He walked away, approaching one of the rescuers and having a quiet conversation with them.
Serene looked around for someplace to sit. She eventually decided to clear a space by the wall and sat with her back against it. Around her, the other nobles did the same. She sighed as she rested her head against the rough brick, closing her eyes. It had been a long day. More than a day, really. It was yesterday when she was captured. Now she had been rescued but still uncertain what was happening.
She wasn’t certain when her trouble thoughts gave in to sleep, but she did wake up to the quiet, harsh whispers beside her.
“He’s a street urchin!” Nick hissed. “Are we really going to be letting a street urchin on the throne?”
Serene quietly groaned. They hadn’t been rescued for more than a few hours and Nick was already complaining. And plotting.
“It does seem like a stretch,” Lady Rose agreed hesitantly. “But the Connection…”
“I’m telling you,” Nick insisted. “The Connection proves he’s a Santer. But he’s no prince! You saw what he did tonight! He killed that man! And now we learn that he grew up on the streets! Of Loman no less! He’s no prince!”
Serene opened her eyes, ready to argue with Nick. Just because Prince Martin had grown up on the streets didn’t mean anything. He was a Santer. It was his rightful place to be the prince. However, before she could say anything, someone else did.
“I owe Aeterna everything.”
Startled, the three of them glanced up. Prince Martin sat in a window, staring out to Nacre’s darkened streets, though his eyes seemed distant. He didn’t wear the wig or glasses, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the terrible scars of his childhood.
“What?” Nick asked, either unbothered that the prince had heard him or pretending that it didn’t.
“I owe Aeterna everything,” Prince Martin repeated, his voice soft, respectful. “I was going to be killed on the streets. The teen gangs thought that I was rising above my place as an urchin. They had plans to kill me.” He sighed, glancing down at the scars on his arms. “But what Tracker said was right. An Aeternan found me. He brought me here before the teens could kill me.” He then glanced down at them.
“I dedicated myself to Aeterna,” he said. “Everything I am, everything I could be, is Aeterna’s. This nation saved my life, Nick. This nation took me in when no one else would. I was given opportunities here, ones I could never get on the streets of Loman. To a ten year old, Aeterna was the cure to my nightmare life.
“I would have been glad to continue serving Aeterna as a spy,” he went on. “But Aeterna demands more of me and I will answer to that demand. You think I shouldn’t be the prince because I grew up on the streets? I would argue different. I’ve already vowed my life to serve this nation. Being a Santer doesn’t change that. Isn’t that what you want in a prince?”
Nick stared up at the prince, his mouth moving with no sound coming out.
“I do,” Serene answered softly. Martin glanced at her. She felt herself blush. Despite the horrible things she had just witnessed and the terrible things she learned, he was still her prince. It was only now that she realized just how deeply Martin loved his nation.
“As do I.”
They turned as Sara approached. “My brother’s past doesn’t make him,” she said, smiling fondly at the prince. “It’s what he does that matters. And I know that he’s going to be the greatest king in our history because he just loves his nation so much.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Martin weakly chuckled. “I’m not a king yet. I’m still just a prince.”
“Details,” Sara brushed off.
“The tunnel’s open!”
Martin glanced towards the door where one soldier stood. “Well then,” he said, jumping off the window. “It’s time to disappear.”
*********
Sona was surprised when Ann Norman found her. She was busy helping some of the volunteers move supplies when the annoying reporter tapped her on the shoulder.
“What are you doing down here?” Sona blurted out.
Ann laughed. “Hello to you too!” She gazed around the room as only a reporter could, taking in details of who was where and doing what. “I’m here for a story. Why else would I be here?”
“How did you get down here?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. She didn’t like Ann at all. The reporter had no respect for a person’s privacy, nor did she know when to stop following for a story. At least Sona had learned there were limits to uncovering a person’s secrets.
“I followed one of the Ghosts down here,” Ann said with a smirk. “Irvin? I believe. I recognized him as one of our prince’s Ghosts and simply started following him. I’m glad I did. Our prince has been a busy boy, creating an army under Nacre this whole time? I bet he even planned on Terk following him here to Nacre.”
“That is the plan,” Sona sneered. “And it’s working, if you didn’t notice that.”
“I did notice,” Ann said, completely unconcerned with the tone Sona had taken to her. “Quite an ingenious plan. Lure Terk into a trap. Sabotage his army after a long march here.” She grinned. “It’s the end of the war and I’m in the middle of it!”
Sona sighed. It figured that Ann would only care about the story.
“Where’s the prince?” Ann suddenly asked. “I thought he’d be here directing the sabotage work.”
“He had to go get his sister,” Sona scoffed. “He should be back soon.” At least, she hoped so.
“Ah well,” Ann sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for him to return. I have so many questions about this. How did he manage to get an army into the city without any of us knowing?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Sona snorted. “They’ve been trickling into the city for well over a month now, ever since Martin returned.”
Ann blinked in surprise. “Really?” she asked excitedly. “They just trickled in?” She paused, realizing something. “You know the plan?”
Sona rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said, returning to her work, picking up a box and giving it to the person next in line. “I’ve been a part of it since Martin came.”
“Really?” Ann asked again, this time surprised. “Why?”
Sona glared at the reporter. “Don’t you know when to stop asking questions?”
“No,” Ann said bluntly. “Why would Martin want you in on his plans?”
Sona debated what to tell the reporter when a commotion came from the other side of the room. She knew immediately that it was Martin.
“Seems our prince is here,” Ann said, grinning. “Let’s go!” She hurried through the crowd, trying to get as close to the prince as possible. Sona didn’t have to hurry. Many of the people recognized her as one of the lead figures in this operation, even if they didn’t know what part she played. She didn’t mind that so much. She preferred that no one knew of the Inhibitor she kept safe.
Martin and the other rescuers were followed by the nobles they had rescued. Sara looked particularly relieved. Ann was jotting down names as they filed into the storage room.
“Wow,” she said with a grin. “He didn’t just rescue his sister. He rescued some of the most powerful future leaders. That’s got to bug Terk to no end.”
Sona rolled her eyes. “That’s the point,” she said.
Ann chose to ignore that remark. “Looks like Rose has some ideas,” she said instead, eyeing the young noblewoman with interest.
“What sort of ideas?” Sona asked. She didn’t know why she did. She had no reason to care about what Lady Rose did or think.
“I’m familiar with that girl,” Ann said, pointing to the noblewoman. “She’s caused scandals in a lot of circles. And I know that look in her eye. There’s a lot of people here and she’s just been rescued by one of the most powerful men in Aeterna. And if I’m judging her correctly, which I’ll bet money on, she’s going to give our prince a great big thank you kiss.”
Sona shook. “Kiss?” she repeated, trying hard not to stutter. “Kiss him?”
Ann shrugged. “That’s what she does. She loves an audience and she would love to be Prince Martin’s mysterious woman. With this many people to watch, she could get some solid rumors started.”
Sona wasn’t listening. She focused on the young noblewoman, noticing how she kept creeping closer and closer to the prince’s side, her lips curled in a smile. It was almost like watching a predator sneak up on its prey.
“Well,” she huffed. “She can’t have him.”
“Excuse me?” Ann asked, turning to her with a frown. Sona didn’t bother answering. She walked forward. Lady Rose wanted to be Martin’s mysterious woman, huh? Well, she had to fight the truth to get that!
“Martin!” Sona called, getting his attention.
He turned just as Lady Rose was behind him. The noblewoman was about to grab him when Sona called out. She looked a bit miffed for the delay.
“Sona?” he asked.
Before Rose could try again, Sona reached the prince. Without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she grabbed Martin by the hair and pulled him down to a kiss.
The room went silent.
When she broke the kiss, Sona knew her face was flaming. Even Martin was blushing. He obviously wasn’t expecting a short, though passionate, kiss. In front of everyone.
“What was that?” he asked softly so no one else could hear him.
“Just claiming you as mine,” she muttered, feeling very satisfied for saying it. Martin was hers. No title would ever change that!
Martin chuckled. “Well,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “If we’re going to play it that way…” He spun her into a dip and kissed her again. Sona returned the kiss with fervor, tangling her fingers in his hair.
He finally spun her back up, breaking the kiss. Before Sona could get her breath back, the room exploded in a very loud cheer. Art and Irvin were actually whooping, pumping their fists in the air. Sona covered her grin with a hand, knowing her face was bright red. Martin just chuckled, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist.
“Wait!” a voice pierced through the cheering. “How long have you two been courting!”
She and Martin turned enough to see Sara pointing at them, her jaw dropped and her eyes popping. Sona was satisfied to see the exact expression on Lady Rose’s face.
“Over a year now,” Martin admitted, grinning. “Though there were a few months when Sona hated my guts.”
“You didn’t tell me you were the prince,” Sona pointed out, trying hard not to laugh at Sara’s shock. “Of course I was mad.”
“I’m glad you’re not mad anymore,” Martin laughed, hugging her tight. Sona wanted to burst with happiness. It was nice to finally stop hiding the truth. They loved each other. That was all that really mattered.
She was about to make a remark when she felt something wet. Glancing at Martin’s arm, she finally noticed the cut.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, pulling away a bit to look him in the eye.
“Ah,” he said, glancing down at his arm. “Yeah. I haven’t had time to bandage it yet…”
“Well,” she snorted. “We should get that taken care of, now shouldn’t we?”
“But…” he said, glancing over the crowd. “We have some things to finish.”
“It’ll take a minute,” she promised. “Your office.”
“Alright,” Martin sighed, though he seemed happy. “Just let me get someone to help our guests comfortable. Steve!”
The young man burst from the crowd, looking a bit harried. No wonder, he had been helping his uncle move supplies. That was to say, he was moving supplies while his uncle watched. Steve froze when he spotted the company, his eyes wide. At first, Sona thought it was for the obvious reason. Martin hadn’t let go of her. But then she noticed that his eyes were locked on Sara’s.
Huh? She thought.
“Steve,” Martin said. “I need you to get these nobles comfortable.”
“Steve?” Sara asked. “You work for my brother?”
“You’re the princess?”
Martin blinked in surprise. He switched his gaze between the two. “You know each other.” It wasn’t a question.
“We’ve met in the palace,” Steve admitted, actually blushing. Sona had to suppress a snicker. So, it appeared that she and Martin weren’t the only ones to hide a relationship.
“Well, then,” Martin said, trying hard not to laugh. “I’ll leave it up to you to make sure she’s comfortable. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, Sona will not stop pestering me until my arm is bandaged.”
“You better believe it,” Sona snorted, allowing him to lead her away. “Someone’s got to push you around to take care of yourself.”
People made way for them, some snickering and romantic sighing following after them. Sona knew she was blushing, and she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but she was nearly bursting with joy. It didn’t matter anymore that she was a commoner and Martin was a prince. They were a couple that worked together, with each other, and cared deeply for one another. That was all that mattered.
When they got to his office, people were kind enough to give them some privacy and not wait at the door. Sona wondered just how that would last. No doubt someone would try listening in while she bandaged his arm.
Well, she thought, closing the door after they walked in, they won’t hear much. She wasn’t going to allow Martin to do any funny business.
“Shirt,” she ordered, searching one of the many traveling trunks for bandages. She leveled him a glare that told him not to argue. He took one look at her face and promptly began taking off his shirt. While he was at that, she found the bandages.
“I can’t believe you,” Martin chuckled, sitting down on the cot.
“Oh?” she asked, examining the wound. It was a clean cut, though his wandering around the tunnels had gotten some dirt in the wound. She walked over to the water basin, got a cloth wet, and returned to his side.
“That was quite a show,” Martin said, flinching a bit as she began to wash the cut. “I think Sara was going to burst when she saw it. She’s been trying to set me up with Serene for a month now. She didn’t even suspect that we could be courting.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Sona said as she began to wrap his arm. “Things change.”
“What changed your mind?”
It was an honest question. She had wanted to hide their relationship for so long. Why did she finally reveal the truth? She thought about it as she finished bandaging his arm. Her eyes wandered to his back. It was as horribly scarred as she remembered, though proper light made it worse. There wasn’t much of his back that was left unmarred. It horrified her to think that anyone would inflict that pain on anyone, much less a helpless ten year old. Hesitantly, she touched his back. Martin immediately shivered and began to shift away.
“No,” she said softly. “Don’t move.” She could tell it took him a lot of effort to stay still. She ran her fingers over the scars, tears coming to her eyes. Her Martin had endured so much pain.
“I changed my mind because of this,” she whispered, putting her entire hand on his back and began rubbing. He shivered even more.
“This?” he asked, closing his eyes. “My monstrous back?”
“No,” she said gently. “Because I knew that no one else would be able to get this close to you. You’ve been hurt for so long, you just never let people close. I had to fight my way towards you. You need me. You need me because I’m the only one who understands you. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know you’ve done everything you can to keep the past in the past.”
She continued to rub his back, feeling the harsh scars and how his muscles tightened. “And most importantly,” she went on. “I can’t bare the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t bare the thought of anyone else this close to you.”
Martin shivered again as she kept rubbing his back. “Is that all that it took to convince you?” he asked, finally opening his eyes and looking at her. “I should have shown you my back again sooner.”
Sona chuckled, resting her head down on his shoulder. They sat there in silence for a long time. Sona knew that neither of them minded the silence. What words mattered when they were in love?
“Sona,” Martin finally said after a while. “This war is going to end soon.”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath, taking her free hand in both of his. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Sona sat straight, looking him in the eye. “No!”
He blinked in surprise, hurt fluttering across his expression for a split second.
“No,” she repeated, less harshly. “I don’t want you to ask me that question now. Wait until the war is over.”
“Why until the war is over?” he asked, frowning.
“Because then you have a reason to survive to the end of the war.”
“I’d think I’d have more reason if I ask you know.”
“Humor me,” she said bluntly.
He smiled a bit then kissed her temple. “For you, my love, anything.”
********
Queen Abigail decided that she didn’t like being captured. True, it was only her second time, and her apartment was a much better confinement than the ballroom from last time, but she still didn’t like it. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she wasn’t allowed to leave her apartment; she was used to being able to go where she wanted, not trapped with nothing to do.
I guess I can understand my family now, she thought, thinking of her husband and children. They all enjoyed being outside the palace. Perhaps this was how they felt when they were trapped inside all day long.
Thankfully they weren’t trapped like she was.
Terk’s takeover had been quick and precise. Abigail wouldn’t be surprised if there were hardly any casualties.
Exactly as planned.
It was after dusk of the second day of Terk’s arrival that she finally had a visitor. She was in her favorite chair, reading a book, when the door burst open. Glancing up, she saw General Terk stomp into the room, his face enraged.
“Good evening, General,” she said, not letting her uneasiness show on her face. There was a reason why Terk was called the Mad General. She much rather not let him know just how much he actually scared her.
“Where is he?” Terk demanded to know, towering over her.
“He who?” she asked, glancing down at her book.
Terk made a strangled growl and knocked the book out of her hands.
“Now listen here,” he snapped, bending down over her, his hands planted on the arms of the chair. “I don’t have time for games. Where’s your brat?”
“I don’t know,” she said darkly, feeling strangely calm. This man was the reason why her family was torn apart. Instead of fear now at him, she could only feel hate. “Why don’t you have your mages try to find him? That’s what you did at the Stand, wasn’t it?”
“Your son somehow managed to mask his powers,” Terk growled. “And none of my patrols have been able to ferret him out. Now, I’ll ask again. Where is he?”
“And I told you,” she repeated. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he was going to do.”
Terk meet her eyes, searching for the truth. Abigail stared back into those black eyes, not bothering to hide her hate for him. He finally stood up, his eyes cold.
“I guess you don’t know,” he said softly, coldly. “Then I must resort to something else to pull him out into the open.” He turned on his heels and stalked out.
“Or you could wait a few days,” Abigail suggested.
Terk paused at the door. He half turned, his expression questioning. “Why?” he asked.
“You don’t think Martin would let you stay?” she asked, bending down to pick up her fallen book. “He wants you gone just as much as you want to have him gone. You’ve made your own worst enemy in Martin. You helped create what he is today.” She idly opened the book, slowly searching for her place again. “I wouldn’t want to be you when he finally comes after you.”
The door slammed shut.
Abigail smiled a bit. So, it seemed that the Mad General was scared of her son. She had suspected it, but now she had proof.
No, she wouldn’t want to be Terk when her son finally came after him.
**********
Again, I’d like to ask that you try to share this story with others. Last week, no one looked at my blog. I was very sad. But, hey, no one said getting published was going to be easy, right?
Thanks for everything! Enjoy the journey!
Monday, January 7, 2013
The Beginning of War Ender
The title says it all. To the story!
***********
Sona had to run after Martin as they hurried away from the party. She didn’t need to ask if Martin was sure. The blank terror on his face was reason enough. After giving a short goodbye to her family without a proper explanation, they rushed as fast as they could. The War Ender had officially begun.
And the first order of business was to disappear.
Martin had managed to memorize the tunnel network and knew exactly where the closest entrance was. Sona was glad that he had. She had only managed to know the few around the palace, thinking that she was going to be there when Terk attacked. She wasn’t expecting to be with family when he arrived.
“Here,” Martin said, stopping in an alleyway by a tavern. Sona quickly covered her nose, the smell of rotting food strong in the alley.
“Why did they pick this place as an entrance?” she complained as the prince went to the very back and uncovered a water drain that lead underground.
“I think the hole was here before the tavern,” Martin said. Though he didn’t cover his nose, his face was scrunched against the smell. He held out a hand to her. “Ladies first.”
Sona took his hand and let him lower her down the drain. While a normal water drain wasn’t large enough for someone to go through, this one was. She had to drop the last couple of feet to reach the ground and she quickly moved out of the way. Martin jumped in after her. A rope hanging from the grate let him close it above them.
“Terk’s army is already taking over the western gate,” Martin explained, running towards the center of the city. “He’s meeting little resistance.”
“You did say that you wanted a peaceful takeover,” Sona pointed out, running beside him. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t worn a dress. Running was so much easier in pants.
“He’s smart to do it at night,” Martin said, quickly turning into another tunnel. “Most people are inside, some asleep. His army is going to be terrifying at night and so it’ll scare the people. He won’t be expecting resistance.”
“That’s the Mad General,” she grumbled. “He expects that he can walk all over people without them complaining.”
“A few more days,” Martin promised, his tone hard. “A few more days and he won’t think that any more.”
*********
They weren’t the first ones to the rendezvous point. Devin, Dean, Willy and Steve were already there at their base of command near the center of the city. They were all around Devin, who was sitting down and holding a wet cloth to his head.
“Devin,” Martin said as he slowed down to approach. “What happened?”
“Something stupid,” the retired soldier muttered, wincing as he patted the cloth on his temple.
“He ran into a pipe as we came here,” Dean explained apologetically. “We were near the west gate when Terk’s army arrived. We came here as fast as we could. He was ahead of me when he ran into the pipe.”
“You shouldn’t be so tall down here,” Willy snorted, scratching the side of his neck with his cane. “It’s your own fault.”
“Say that again…” Devin growled, trying to stand up. Sona was quick to ease the man back down on the stool.
Martin shook his head and glanced around their center of command. It reminded him a bit of a warehouse, though underground. The large room they were in was filled with the supplies they had been stocking for the last month. There were smaller rooms elsewhere, used mostly as a smugglers offices. However, those offices had been turned over to Martin and his Ghosts. They all had their own operations and needed the offices to direct the action from.
“You’ll just have a bump on your head,” Sona concluded, checking Devin’s head. “You’ll be able to fight tomorrow after a good nights rest.”
“Good,” Devin grumbled, pressing the wet cloth to his head again. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the action just because of a little bump.”
Martin half listened to the batter, his attention more on the fear that was quickly taking over the city. He hated to feel the people’s fear. It was nearly overpowering and demanding. Demanding that he do something.
The mages can already feel me, he thought, his chest tightening with the thought of what he had to do. They know I’m here. They know I can’t escape the city.
It was time.
“Sona,” he said softly, his back to all of them. “You have it, right?”
He could sense the others’ confusion.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Are you sure about this?”
“It has to be done.”
“What are you two talking about?” Dean asked, sounding worried.
“Sounds like they’re talking about something they didn’t want us to know about,” Devin said. “What’s going on?”
Martin took a deep breath and turned around. Sona had pulled the Inhibitor out of her bag. The others looked on in confusion.
“It’s a precaution I have to take to keep Terk from finding me,” Martin said, his throat constricting. “I’m going to have to separate myself from the land.”
“What does that mean?” Willy asked.
“He’s not going to have his magic,” Steve breathed. He pointed an accusing finger at the silver ball. “That’s an Inhibitor!”
The others turned in shock, staring in horror at the small round ball in Sona’s hands. Dean was the first to act, placing himself between Martin and Sona, his arms spread out as if to catch Sona before she could reach him.
“Martin,” he said, turning his head just enough to see him. “You can’t be serious about this. It’s because of that thing that no one knew you were alive!”
“And you can’t go without your powers,” Devin argued, struggling to his feet. “How are you supposed to survive this without them?”
“I survived sixteen years without my powers,” Martin said softly, holding his chin up. “I just need to survive a few more days. Sona?”
Sona tired to side step Dean, but the large baker wouldn’t let her.
“Please, Dean,” Martin said, hoping there was no fear in his voice. “It has to be done. Terk’s mages can sense my magic. The only way they can’t is if I just don’t have those powers. This has to be done.”
“There must be another way!”
“Believe me,” Sona said dryly, sadly, “I tried to reason with him. He’s going to Inhibit himself whether we like it or not.”
Everything was silent for a few moments before Dean finally lowered his arms, his posture slumping.
“Are you sure?” he asked, turning around to face him. “Perhaps….”
Martin shook his head. “If no one could find me before when I was Inhibited, then it’s going to work now. It has to be done.” He paused and tried to smile. “Besides, I’ve lived most of my life without my powers. I can handle a few days without them.”
Everyone watched in a sad silence as Sona approached him with the Inhibitor. Martin pulled out his Connection and put it on. The pretty researcher turned the Inhibitor on, having learned how from him. Martin took a deep breath, bracing himself for his magic to be suppressed for the third time. He couldn’t remember the other two times, having been a scared two year old the first time and unconscious the second.
Sona put the Inhibitor in his outstretched gloved hand.
Martin screamed.
It felt as if the entire world had suddenly vanished, leaving him in a vacuum that threatened to suck out his very life. His body screamed with pain as the pressure tried to crush him, to smoother the light of his life. He blacked out thinking he would die.
When he finally came to, he was on the floor, his head supported on Sona’s lap. Everyone was standing around him, all looking worried. Sona held his head, running her fingers through his hair.
“Martin?” she asked, seeing him open his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“It’s like getting poisoned,” he groaned as he reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Only ten times worse.”
“You’ve been poisoned too?” Dean asked incredibly. “What other tortures have you been through?”
“More than I care to admit,” Martin grumbled, slowly sitting up. Sona let him, though she eyed him uneasily. He sat on the floor for a few more minutes before trying to stand. All things considered, he was recovering faster than he expected.
“How do you feel?” Devin asked. He had taken the cloth away from his head, revealing a large bruise and bump on his head.
Martin shook his head. He was afraid to reach for his powers, but he had to know if the Inhibitor worked. His stomach sank as his heart jumped into his throat when he couldn’t sense anything.
“I almost feel blind,” he said, rubbing his face. “Like I’ve just gone into a dark room. I’m going to need a little bit to get used to this again.”
“Get used to what?” Willy asked.
Martin managed a half smile. “Being normal.”
************
Sona insisted that he get some sleep. He would have protested if she hadn’t pointed out that he had just suppressed his own powers. She had a point and Martin knew he should get some rest after having a part of his being suppressed.
The office that had been assigned to him also doubled as his room for the duration of Terk’s stay. He collapsed on the bed shortly after the suppression, too exhausted to argue with Sona about needing rest.
When he woke up again, he could still feel the lingering effects of the Inhibitor. He had gotten used to waking up to the commotions and feelings of Nacre, a constant rhythm he had found comforting. Now it was just himself inside his head.
It was not a feeling he liked.
However, it was part of the plan. They couldn’t afford Terk to find him before the time was right. He had to be hidden as long as possible. Groaning, he rolled out of the cot put in his office and quickly washed his face with the bowl of water someone had left in there for him.
Drying his face with a towel, he gazed down at the water, still unable to see his reflection.
“What a mess I make,” he muttered, almost smiling. At least one thing remained after his suppression. It seemed odd that now he was grateful that he couldn’t see his reflection. It meant that Aeterna still had some connection to him.
Feeling like he was ready to again face the world, he walked out of his office and into a surprise.
The hall where the offices were was filled with people hurrying, many of them soldiers and thieves. A few of them paused to bow to him, but most just kept on their own tasks, not noticing him.
How long was I asleep? He wondered, making his way to the storage area. It too was filled with action as people worked. He quickly spotted his Ghosts on the other side of the room.
“Ah!” Art said, smiling as he noticed his approach. “You’re finally awake!”
“Took you long enough,” Irvin teased.
“How long was I out?” Martin asked. It couldn’t have been that long. He wasn’t that tired.
“You’ve been out for almost twenty hours,” Dixon answered. “Sona figured that suppressing your magic drained you. That’s why you slept so long.”
“It worried the heck out of her though,” Clary pointed out. “We finally had to agree to take turns watching you until you woke up to get her to lay down for a nap herself.”
Martin sighed. That was Sona. She worried about him too much.
“How’s our plan going?” he asked, trying to distract himself from both the worry and emptiness he felt inside.
“Mostly according to plan,” Art said, seeming hesitant.
“What?” Martin quickly caught. “What hasn’t gone to plan?”
They turned to Irvin. Martin quickly thought about what Irvin had been in charge of for the plan. It didn’t take him long to know what had gone wrong. He felt his face pale with the realization.
“Terk has Sara.”
*********
“You can’t honestly think you can rescue your sister, can you?” Devin demanded to know as Martin got ready to leave. “You said yourself that you have to go into hiding until the right time. Rescuing your sister isn’t exactly going into hiding!”
“You’ve seen me disguise myself,” Martin snorted, putting on the red wig. “No one is going to catch me.”
“I don’t know where you got this confidence, young man,” Devin growled, shaking a finger at him. “But the only ones I know who can pull of a disguise good enough to fool Terk are spies. And only the good ones at that!”
“Then it’s a good thing that I’m a good spy.”
Devin sputtered, no intelligible words passing through his mouth. He went on for a few moments before he finally managed to spit it out.
“Spy?” he blurted out.
“There’s a reason Sona was asked to work on my records,” Martin said, putting the glasses on. “No one was supposed to know that I was a spy.” He paused. “Though, now that I think about it, I’m still a spy. I haven’t passed down my spying title yet.”
“Spying title?” Devin gasped. “What spying title?!”
“He’s the Alex.”
Martin and Devin turned to see Sona standing in the open door. She had gotten a change of clothes from somewhere, now wearing a shirt and trousers like she always did when underground.
“The Alex?” Devin repeated, his voice strained and higher pitched than before. “The Spy Alex?”
“I’m a man of many talents,” Martin sighed, rolling his sleeves up to complete the disguise.
Devin stared at him. Martin could tell from the man’s body language that he was shocked at everything he learned and surprised by how quickly Martin had managed to change into a different person.
“That’s why you never argue when people call you a dangerous man,” Devin said, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “You really are. Ghost, prince, spy. What can’t you do?”
“I can’t use a sling,” Martin sighed dramatically. “Just can’t do it.”
“He also can’t sing,” Sona teased. “He may have a wonderful speaking voice, but he can’t carry a tune to save his life.”
“Can’t cook either.”
“That’s because you will eat anything,” Sona pointed out.
Devin shook his head. “This is almost too much,” he muttered.
“Almost?” Sona asked, frowning. “Why almost?”
The retired soldier smiled weakly. “If I didn’t like our prince so much, it would be too much.” He then straightened, quickly trying to put his troubles into another part of his mind. Martin had seen many soldiers use this trick when battle approached. “Right, Martin,” he said. “What’s the plan to rescue your little sister?”
************
Sara couldn’t believe her rotten luck. First she had to attend Lord Nick’s party. Martin had to decline to attend because he had a different appointment to make. That meant she had to attend Lord Nick’s party alone. Second, she had to put up with Nick’s constant argues about why Martin shouldn’t be the prince. Third, she had to deal with his flirting when she had no interest in him. And then the fourth rotten luck of the night.
She was captured by the enemy.
The princess sat on a couch, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands as she glared at the guards who made sure no one left the room. The others guests had found other places to sit, a few noblewomen sniffing from crying most of the night after they had been captured.
Really, Sara thought, you’d think that they’d do something with us after capturing us. But for some unknown reason, once the Venter soldiers had taken over Nick’s mansion, they decided to keep the nobles in the room they had caught them in. That meant the fifth bit of rotten luck. She had spent the night and most of the day locked in the same room as the other nobles.
They have no etiquette about getting captured, she thought. Most of the noblewoman cried as the men tried to demand their way out. Sara had done neither. It was pointless to cry and even more pointless to demand her release. The best thing to do was to wait, watch, and plan for an escape.
Or at least, wait for Martin to come rescue her.
Sara was sure of this one fact. Her brother didn’t want her in danger. He didn’t want anyone close to him to get hurt from getting between him and Terk.
Hurry up, Martin, she thought, rolling her eyes as another woman burst into tears again. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with these people.
**********
Nick didn’t know how the princess could remain so calm. He had tried to shove his title down these measly Venter soldiers’ throats to get them to release him and the others, but they were unfazed by his title. If anything, they seemed more determined to keep him under their guard.
“What do you think they have planned for us?” Lady Rose asked as she and some of the other nobles huddled in a far corner. Her voice was low as if she didn’t want the guards to hear what she was saying.
“Probably ransom,” Sara said in a dull tone, sitting not far from where they had circled. Nick was surprised by how bored she sounded. “Maybe keep us as hostages to keep our parents from trying to retaliate.”
“And you’re calm about this?” Serene asked, her teeth clenched in fear.
Sara shrugged, a habit Nick was sure she had picked up from her brother.
“No use worrying about it,” she said. “I’m going to spend my energies worrying about other things.”
“Like what?”
“Probably for something like me.”
They turned to find that the guards had opened the door. There was a man dressed in black, his face and build common. But for some reason, Nick felt a chill in the air.
“Tracker,” Sara said, nodding to the man.
“Your Highness,” Tracker said, not surprised that the princess knew who he was. Nick couldn’t breath, too horrified to do it. Tracker? Venter’s top spy? A ruthless man who would kill without warning?
They were doomed.
“I’m surprised by how calm you are, princess,” Tracker said, standing at a relaxed soldier stance. “Are you expecting a rescue from your famous Ghost brother?”
“A rescue perhaps,” Sara admitted, her lips twitching in a smile. “From my brother…. Who knows?”
“Who knows indeed,” Tracker acknowledged, nodding his head in slight respect towards the princess. “Now everyone, on your feet. We’re moving out.”
“Out where?” Rose demanded to know, tears close to the surface.
Tracker turned his dark eyes on the noblewoman. She quailed under his hateful gaze.
“This isn’t the best place to capture a prince, or whoever he’s sending to rescue the princess,” Tracker said. “There’s a better place for that sort of battle. To your feet. Now.”
They were quick to obey. Even Princess Sara didn’t bother to linger. Without any more explanation, Tracker led them out of the mansion and through the streets of Nacre. The sun was setting, casting long shadows through the deserted streets. It wasn’t right, for the streets to be that empty. There had to be people somewhere.
Probably trapped in their houses, Nick thought, trying not to think about their fate. They were going to play bait for someone. He didn’t want to know what would happen once their work as bait was done.
He kept his head down as they were lead into an abandoned workhouse. He guessed that it used to be a cabinet maker’s shop, considering all the broken wood that littered the floor.
“Now,” Tracker said as he walked into the center of the room and put a lantern down on the floor. “Stand here and wait. We’ll be in the shadows watching.”
They shuffled to the lantern as Tracker disappeared into a back room, probably to watch for the rescuers and a time to attack.
“This is bad,” Serene whispered, sniffling as she tried to keep her tears back. “How are we going to get out of this?”
“We wait for the rescue,” Sara snorted. “I wouldn’t worry. Martin knows what he’s doing.”
“You have a lot of faith in your brother,” Nick sneered. He didn’t like the idea of getting rescued by a man he had been fighting against for the throne.
“You’ll see,” Sara said, not bothered by his remark. “We’ll get out of this.”
They waited in silence as the sun finally set, darkening the streets of Nacre. Nick didn’t know how long they were supposed to wait for a rescue when the shop door banged open.
“Wow!” a red head farmer said, stumbling into the room. He looked around the shop with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Talk about a dirty place!”
Several men filed in behind the farmer. These men looked dangerous, wielding clubs and spears.
“We’ll take care of the guards,” their leader said, a retired soldier from the sound of his voice. “Thanks for the tip, David.” He bowed towards them. “I’m sorry for our late arrival. It took us a while to find you.”
“No problem,” Sara said, smiling.
“I was wondering when you’d show up. Men! Attack!”
The Venter soldiers burst out and began fighting the rescuers. David quickly avoided the fight and joined them in the center of the room. “I think we should get out of here,” he said, looking at the fighting with fear.
“You’re not going anywhere, Alex.”
Nick spun around to find the Tracker not even five feet from them. The farmer seemed unsurprised by the dangerous spy’s sudden appearance.
“Saw through my disguise then,” the farmer said, loosing the underclass accent. Nick and the others turned in surprise. What was going on?
“You’re a clever man, Spy Alex,” Tracker said, smirking. “And difficult to find. However, I have been monitoring things in the city for a bit.” He paused and looked the red head over. “I can’t decide… Is that how you really look or is all effect?”
“Most of it is effect,” the Alex answered. “And I’m glad you spotted me. It would be a waste if I didn’t have one character in my bag of tricks that people would know it was me.”
“A spy does have a couple of those handy,” Tracker agreed. Nick had no idea what they were talking about, but he did stare in shock at the farmer. He was the Alex? Of course Nick had seen the red head around, but he never thought that he could be a spy!
Tracker then nodded to the Alex’s arms. They were covered in scars, typical of a man used to working around dangerous equipment like farming. “It was those scars that gave you away, you know.”
The Alex said nothing, the fighting around them coming close to an end as the rescuers beat the Venter soldiers.
“After our last fight, I knew there was something different about you,” Tracker went on to say. “You didn’t fight like any Aeternan I knew, nor any nation I could think of. Yours was a fighting style I had never seen. So I set out to find out where you actually learned to fight.
“I finally found the answer in our own army,” Tracker explained, completely unconcerned that his men had been overtaken and he the last Venteran in the room. “One of our training officers could never be beat in a fight and his style was much like yours, only with a Venter flare. I asked him where he learned to fight like that. And he told me.” The spy paused for dramatic effect.
“He was a street urchin from Loman.”
The Alex said nothing, though his hands clenched into fists. Tracker smirked at the spy’s reaction.
“Loman street urchins have to learn how to fight, and fast,” Tracker sneered. “But if they survive to their teens, the street gangs make them learn more stylized fighting and they loose all that wonderful fighting skills they had developed as kids. The training officer had been rescued off the streets before he was a teen and thus was allowed to keep his skills as a fighter.
“I assume the same happened to you. You caught some Aeternan’s eye when you were a kid on the streets and that Aeternan brought you here to Aeterna. You were allowed to keep your skills. They refined it, true, but they knew you could fight better than what any master could teach you.” He nodded again to the scarred arms. “Those mark you as a child from Loman, a street urchin who endured more beatings, more hunger, more cold nights than any child should endure.” The Tracker shook his head.
“I’m surprised they let you become the Alex.”
For a moment, the Alex didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed in hate. “I had to work hard for my title,” he finally answered softly. “I overcame a lot of obstacles to get to where I am.”
“So we’ve now reached the important bit of the evening,” Tracker yawned. “We’ll fight and see who wins. The winner gets to keep the nobles.”
“Done.” The finality in the way he said it was unnerving.
“Alex…” Sara said, her voice quivering. “Don’t…”
“Stay out of this,” the Alex said, gesturing them to move away while his eyes were locked on the Tracker. “This fight has to happen.”
Sara paled, but nodded and slowly backed away. Nick wasn’t slow to move out of the way, quickly finding safety with the rescuers. The lead man looked on with fear but did nothing to step in. This was a fight between two spymasters. No one could even possibly think of helping.
For a moment, neither spy moved, the stillness filling in the air around them. Then without warning, they both moved, knives suddenly in their hands as they tried to tear at each other. The Alex was quick to dodge Tracker’s first attack, slashing his knife down near the Venteran’s hip. Tracker twisted away, sending a hurtling knife towards the Aeternan spy’s neck. Impossibly, Alex bent back, flipping over in a handstand to get away in time.
The onlookers watched with amazement as the two men fought with precision, speed, and deadly grace. Nick didn’t know it was possible for anyone to move that fast with that much skill.
Suddenly, Tracker kicked out, hitting the Alex on the head. The Aeternan spy hit the ground with a roll, crouching away from them as he finally came to a rest. At first, Nick didn’t know what was happening until he noticed that the glasses and red wig had flown off.
He was in disguise, he thought, a bit numb. Why did that matter?
“That was a lucky hit,” the Alex said, his hunched back still towards them. “It’s been a while since someone’s done that.”
“I’m glad to have the honor,” Tracker sneered, knives still in both hands. “Now, how about getting up and we continue this fight.” Without waiting, the Tracker rushed at the Alex’s back.
The Alex whipped around just in time to block the spy’s attack, revealing his true face.
The face of Prince Martin Santer.
Everyone gasped. Tracker stared in horror at the man now fighting him.
“Surprised?” the prince asked, smirking. “You shouldn’t be.” He shoved the Tracker, causing the spy to loose his balance. Martin jumped to his feet, kicking out at the Tracker’s head. The spy barely managed to dodge it.
“Terk hired pirates to kidnap me,” Martin growled, attacking again. “Where else did you think they’d take me after double crossing Terk? Pouette, perhaps? Back here to Nacre?” Tracker had to roll out of the way as the prince slashed at the spy’s chest. “They took me to Loman.”
“No! This can’t be possible!” Tracker yelled, sweat covering his face. “You can’t be the Alex, Ghost Eighty-One, and the prince! You just can’t be!”
“Why not?” Martin sneered. “It makes horrible, perfect sense to you now, doesn’t it? How I’ve always been able to avoid capture, how I can escape every trap Terk has set for me. I was right there, all along. And none of you stopped to consider it.”
“You’re nothing more than a street urchin!” Tracker screamed, twisting away from one of the prince’s kicks. “That’s all you’ll ever be!”
“No,” the prince snapped. Suddenly, he ducked under Tracker’s punch and stepped up close to the spy. Tracker gasped in surprise. Martin stepped back, revealing the knife he had just thrust into the spy’s heart. Tracker gaped at the blade hilt in his chest, dropping to his knees. He struggled to breath as he looked up at the man towering over him.
“What are you?” Tracker breathed.
“I am Martin Santer,” the prince said. “And no one can take that from me again.”
“No…” Tracker coughed, dropping to the ground. “This can’t be… Just can’t…” He let out a final sigh, his eyes sightless with death.
*********
Thus ends Tracker. Thank goodness right? The reason I created this character was because I was getting a bit bored with villains who had to tell the hero their plan. Why do villains have to gloat anyway? Seems a bit stupid to me. So I created a character who wouldn’t brag and just kill the hero. (Although I know Tracker did to a bit of bragging towards the end. But hey, he was trying to physic Martin out before a fight. So it doesn’t really count.)
Anyway, I came to a chilling realization last night as I was preparing for this post. We have maybe five (six if I stretch it) posts left. Five. Then the story is done. Finished. The End. BAH! I can’t believe we’re getting so close! What am I supposed to post after it!? I suppose I could get some writing done, but A Memory of Light is coming out tomorrow and I’m likely to suffer from a book high after it. Sigh. And then I keep getting distracted… What do you think I should write next?
Got to go. Eye doctor is waiting. Enjoy the journey!
***********
Sona had to run after Martin as they hurried away from the party. She didn’t need to ask if Martin was sure. The blank terror on his face was reason enough. After giving a short goodbye to her family without a proper explanation, they rushed as fast as they could. The War Ender had officially begun.
And the first order of business was to disappear.
Martin had managed to memorize the tunnel network and knew exactly where the closest entrance was. Sona was glad that he had. She had only managed to know the few around the palace, thinking that she was going to be there when Terk attacked. She wasn’t expecting to be with family when he arrived.
“Here,” Martin said, stopping in an alleyway by a tavern. Sona quickly covered her nose, the smell of rotting food strong in the alley.
“Why did they pick this place as an entrance?” she complained as the prince went to the very back and uncovered a water drain that lead underground.
“I think the hole was here before the tavern,” Martin said. Though he didn’t cover his nose, his face was scrunched against the smell. He held out a hand to her. “Ladies first.”
Sona took his hand and let him lower her down the drain. While a normal water drain wasn’t large enough for someone to go through, this one was. She had to drop the last couple of feet to reach the ground and she quickly moved out of the way. Martin jumped in after her. A rope hanging from the grate let him close it above them.
“Terk’s army is already taking over the western gate,” Martin explained, running towards the center of the city. “He’s meeting little resistance.”
“You did say that you wanted a peaceful takeover,” Sona pointed out, running beside him. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t worn a dress. Running was so much easier in pants.
“He’s smart to do it at night,” Martin said, quickly turning into another tunnel. “Most people are inside, some asleep. His army is going to be terrifying at night and so it’ll scare the people. He won’t be expecting resistance.”
“That’s the Mad General,” she grumbled. “He expects that he can walk all over people without them complaining.”
“A few more days,” Martin promised, his tone hard. “A few more days and he won’t think that any more.”
*********
They weren’t the first ones to the rendezvous point. Devin, Dean, Willy and Steve were already there at their base of command near the center of the city. They were all around Devin, who was sitting down and holding a wet cloth to his head.
“Devin,” Martin said as he slowed down to approach. “What happened?”
“Something stupid,” the retired soldier muttered, wincing as he patted the cloth on his temple.
“He ran into a pipe as we came here,” Dean explained apologetically. “We were near the west gate when Terk’s army arrived. We came here as fast as we could. He was ahead of me when he ran into the pipe.”
“You shouldn’t be so tall down here,” Willy snorted, scratching the side of his neck with his cane. “It’s your own fault.”
“Say that again…” Devin growled, trying to stand up. Sona was quick to ease the man back down on the stool.
Martin shook his head and glanced around their center of command. It reminded him a bit of a warehouse, though underground. The large room they were in was filled with the supplies they had been stocking for the last month. There were smaller rooms elsewhere, used mostly as a smugglers offices. However, those offices had been turned over to Martin and his Ghosts. They all had their own operations and needed the offices to direct the action from.
“You’ll just have a bump on your head,” Sona concluded, checking Devin’s head. “You’ll be able to fight tomorrow after a good nights rest.”
“Good,” Devin grumbled, pressing the wet cloth to his head again. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the action just because of a little bump.”
Martin half listened to the batter, his attention more on the fear that was quickly taking over the city. He hated to feel the people’s fear. It was nearly overpowering and demanding. Demanding that he do something.
The mages can already feel me, he thought, his chest tightening with the thought of what he had to do. They know I’m here. They know I can’t escape the city.
It was time.
“Sona,” he said softly, his back to all of them. “You have it, right?”
He could sense the others’ confusion.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Are you sure about this?”
“It has to be done.”
“What are you two talking about?” Dean asked, sounding worried.
“Sounds like they’re talking about something they didn’t want us to know about,” Devin said. “What’s going on?”
Martin took a deep breath and turned around. Sona had pulled the Inhibitor out of her bag. The others looked on in confusion.
“It’s a precaution I have to take to keep Terk from finding me,” Martin said, his throat constricting. “I’m going to have to separate myself from the land.”
“What does that mean?” Willy asked.
“He’s not going to have his magic,” Steve breathed. He pointed an accusing finger at the silver ball. “That’s an Inhibitor!”
The others turned in shock, staring in horror at the small round ball in Sona’s hands. Dean was the first to act, placing himself between Martin and Sona, his arms spread out as if to catch Sona before she could reach him.
“Martin,” he said, turning his head just enough to see him. “You can’t be serious about this. It’s because of that thing that no one knew you were alive!”
“And you can’t go without your powers,” Devin argued, struggling to his feet. “How are you supposed to survive this without them?”
“I survived sixteen years without my powers,” Martin said softly, holding his chin up. “I just need to survive a few more days. Sona?”
Sona tired to side step Dean, but the large baker wouldn’t let her.
“Please, Dean,” Martin said, hoping there was no fear in his voice. “It has to be done. Terk’s mages can sense my magic. The only way they can’t is if I just don’t have those powers. This has to be done.”
“There must be another way!”
“Believe me,” Sona said dryly, sadly, “I tried to reason with him. He’s going to Inhibit himself whether we like it or not.”
Everything was silent for a few moments before Dean finally lowered his arms, his posture slumping.
“Are you sure?” he asked, turning around to face him. “Perhaps….”
Martin shook his head. “If no one could find me before when I was Inhibited, then it’s going to work now. It has to be done.” He paused and tried to smile. “Besides, I’ve lived most of my life without my powers. I can handle a few days without them.”
Everyone watched in a sad silence as Sona approached him with the Inhibitor. Martin pulled out his Connection and put it on. The pretty researcher turned the Inhibitor on, having learned how from him. Martin took a deep breath, bracing himself for his magic to be suppressed for the third time. He couldn’t remember the other two times, having been a scared two year old the first time and unconscious the second.
Sona put the Inhibitor in his outstretched gloved hand.
Martin screamed.
It felt as if the entire world had suddenly vanished, leaving him in a vacuum that threatened to suck out his very life. His body screamed with pain as the pressure tried to crush him, to smoother the light of his life. He blacked out thinking he would die.
When he finally came to, he was on the floor, his head supported on Sona’s lap. Everyone was standing around him, all looking worried. Sona held his head, running her fingers through his hair.
“Martin?” she asked, seeing him open his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“It’s like getting poisoned,” he groaned as he reached up and rubbed his eyes. “Only ten times worse.”
“You’ve been poisoned too?” Dean asked incredibly. “What other tortures have you been through?”
“More than I care to admit,” Martin grumbled, slowly sitting up. Sona let him, though she eyed him uneasily. He sat on the floor for a few more minutes before trying to stand. All things considered, he was recovering faster than he expected.
“How do you feel?” Devin asked. He had taken the cloth away from his head, revealing a large bruise and bump on his head.
Martin shook his head. He was afraid to reach for his powers, but he had to know if the Inhibitor worked. His stomach sank as his heart jumped into his throat when he couldn’t sense anything.
“I almost feel blind,” he said, rubbing his face. “Like I’ve just gone into a dark room. I’m going to need a little bit to get used to this again.”
“Get used to what?” Willy asked.
Martin managed a half smile. “Being normal.”
************
Sona insisted that he get some sleep. He would have protested if she hadn’t pointed out that he had just suppressed his own powers. She had a point and Martin knew he should get some rest after having a part of his being suppressed.
The office that had been assigned to him also doubled as his room for the duration of Terk’s stay. He collapsed on the bed shortly after the suppression, too exhausted to argue with Sona about needing rest.
When he woke up again, he could still feel the lingering effects of the Inhibitor. He had gotten used to waking up to the commotions and feelings of Nacre, a constant rhythm he had found comforting. Now it was just himself inside his head.
It was not a feeling he liked.
However, it was part of the plan. They couldn’t afford Terk to find him before the time was right. He had to be hidden as long as possible. Groaning, he rolled out of the cot put in his office and quickly washed his face with the bowl of water someone had left in there for him.
Drying his face with a towel, he gazed down at the water, still unable to see his reflection.
“What a mess I make,” he muttered, almost smiling. At least one thing remained after his suppression. It seemed odd that now he was grateful that he couldn’t see his reflection. It meant that Aeterna still had some connection to him.
Feeling like he was ready to again face the world, he walked out of his office and into a surprise.
The hall where the offices were was filled with people hurrying, many of them soldiers and thieves. A few of them paused to bow to him, but most just kept on their own tasks, not noticing him.
How long was I asleep? He wondered, making his way to the storage area. It too was filled with action as people worked. He quickly spotted his Ghosts on the other side of the room.
“Ah!” Art said, smiling as he noticed his approach. “You’re finally awake!”
“Took you long enough,” Irvin teased.
“How long was I out?” Martin asked. It couldn’t have been that long. He wasn’t that tired.
“You’ve been out for almost twenty hours,” Dixon answered. “Sona figured that suppressing your magic drained you. That’s why you slept so long.”
“It worried the heck out of her though,” Clary pointed out. “We finally had to agree to take turns watching you until you woke up to get her to lay down for a nap herself.”
Martin sighed. That was Sona. She worried about him too much.
“How’s our plan going?” he asked, trying to distract himself from both the worry and emptiness he felt inside.
“Mostly according to plan,” Art said, seeming hesitant.
“What?” Martin quickly caught. “What hasn’t gone to plan?”
They turned to Irvin. Martin quickly thought about what Irvin had been in charge of for the plan. It didn’t take him long to know what had gone wrong. He felt his face pale with the realization.
“Terk has Sara.”
*********
“You can’t honestly think you can rescue your sister, can you?” Devin demanded to know as Martin got ready to leave. “You said yourself that you have to go into hiding until the right time. Rescuing your sister isn’t exactly going into hiding!”
“You’ve seen me disguise myself,” Martin snorted, putting on the red wig. “No one is going to catch me.”
“I don’t know where you got this confidence, young man,” Devin growled, shaking a finger at him. “But the only ones I know who can pull of a disguise good enough to fool Terk are spies. And only the good ones at that!”
“Then it’s a good thing that I’m a good spy.”
Devin sputtered, no intelligible words passing through his mouth. He went on for a few moments before he finally managed to spit it out.
“Spy?” he blurted out.
“There’s a reason Sona was asked to work on my records,” Martin said, putting the glasses on. “No one was supposed to know that I was a spy.” He paused. “Though, now that I think about it, I’m still a spy. I haven’t passed down my spying title yet.”
“Spying title?” Devin gasped. “What spying title?!”
“He’s the Alex.”
Martin and Devin turned to see Sona standing in the open door. She had gotten a change of clothes from somewhere, now wearing a shirt and trousers like she always did when underground.
“The Alex?” Devin repeated, his voice strained and higher pitched than before. “The Spy Alex?”
“I’m a man of many talents,” Martin sighed, rolling his sleeves up to complete the disguise.
Devin stared at him. Martin could tell from the man’s body language that he was shocked at everything he learned and surprised by how quickly Martin had managed to change into a different person.
“That’s why you never argue when people call you a dangerous man,” Devin said, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “You really are. Ghost, prince, spy. What can’t you do?”
“I can’t use a sling,” Martin sighed dramatically. “Just can’t do it.”
“He also can’t sing,” Sona teased. “He may have a wonderful speaking voice, but he can’t carry a tune to save his life.”
“Can’t cook either.”
“That’s because you will eat anything,” Sona pointed out.
Devin shook his head. “This is almost too much,” he muttered.
“Almost?” Sona asked, frowning. “Why almost?”
The retired soldier smiled weakly. “If I didn’t like our prince so much, it would be too much.” He then straightened, quickly trying to put his troubles into another part of his mind. Martin had seen many soldiers use this trick when battle approached. “Right, Martin,” he said. “What’s the plan to rescue your little sister?”
************
Sara couldn’t believe her rotten luck. First she had to attend Lord Nick’s party. Martin had to decline to attend because he had a different appointment to make. That meant she had to attend Lord Nick’s party alone. Second, she had to put up with Nick’s constant argues about why Martin shouldn’t be the prince. Third, she had to deal with his flirting when she had no interest in him. And then the fourth rotten luck of the night.
She was captured by the enemy.
The princess sat on a couch, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands as she glared at the guards who made sure no one left the room. The others guests had found other places to sit, a few noblewomen sniffing from crying most of the night after they had been captured.
Really, Sara thought, you’d think that they’d do something with us after capturing us. But for some unknown reason, once the Venter soldiers had taken over Nick’s mansion, they decided to keep the nobles in the room they had caught them in. That meant the fifth bit of rotten luck. She had spent the night and most of the day locked in the same room as the other nobles.
They have no etiquette about getting captured, she thought. Most of the noblewoman cried as the men tried to demand their way out. Sara had done neither. It was pointless to cry and even more pointless to demand her release. The best thing to do was to wait, watch, and plan for an escape.
Or at least, wait for Martin to come rescue her.
Sara was sure of this one fact. Her brother didn’t want her in danger. He didn’t want anyone close to him to get hurt from getting between him and Terk.
Hurry up, Martin, she thought, rolling her eyes as another woman burst into tears again. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with these people.
**********
Nick didn’t know how the princess could remain so calm. He had tried to shove his title down these measly Venter soldiers’ throats to get them to release him and the others, but they were unfazed by his title. If anything, they seemed more determined to keep him under their guard.
“What do you think they have planned for us?” Lady Rose asked as she and some of the other nobles huddled in a far corner. Her voice was low as if she didn’t want the guards to hear what she was saying.
“Probably ransom,” Sara said in a dull tone, sitting not far from where they had circled. Nick was surprised by how bored she sounded. “Maybe keep us as hostages to keep our parents from trying to retaliate.”
“And you’re calm about this?” Serene asked, her teeth clenched in fear.
Sara shrugged, a habit Nick was sure she had picked up from her brother.
“No use worrying about it,” she said. “I’m going to spend my energies worrying about other things.”
“Like what?”
“Probably for something like me.”
They turned to find that the guards had opened the door. There was a man dressed in black, his face and build common. But for some reason, Nick felt a chill in the air.
“Tracker,” Sara said, nodding to the man.
“Your Highness,” Tracker said, not surprised that the princess knew who he was. Nick couldn’t breath, too horrified to do it. Tracker? Venter’s top spy? A ruthless man who would kill without warning?
They were doomed.
“I’m surprised by how calm you are, princess,” Tracker said, standing at a relaxed soldier stance. “Are you expecting a rescue from your famous Ghost brother?”
“A rescue perhaps,” Sara admitted, her lips twitching in a smile. “From my brother…. Who knows?”
“Who knows indeed,” Tracker acknowledged, nodding his head in slight respect towards the princess. “Now everyone, on your feet. We’re moving out.”
“Out where?” Rose demanded to know, tears close to the surface.
Tracker turned his dark eyes on the noblewoman. She quailed under his hateful gaze.
“This isn’t the best place to capture a prince, or whoever he’s sending to rescue the princess,” Tracker said. “There’s a better place for that sort of battle. To your feet. Now.”
They were quick to obey. Even Princess Sara didn’t bother to linger. Without any more explanation, Tracker led them out of the mansion and through the streets of Nacre. The sun was setting, casting long shadows through the deserted streets. It wasn’t right, for the streets to be that empty. There had to be people somewhere.
Probably trapped in their houses, Nick thought, trying not to think about their fate. They were going to play bait for someone. He didn’t want to know what would happen once their work as bait was done.
He kept his head down as they were lead into an abandoned workhouse. He guessed that it used to be a cabinet maker’s shop, considering all the broken wood that littered the floor.
“Now,” Tracker said as he walked into the center of the room and put a lantern down on the floor. “Stand here and wait. We’ll be in the shadows watching.”
They shuffled to the lantern as Tracker disappeared into a back room, probably to watch for the rescuers and a time to attack.
“This is bad,” Serene whispered, sniffling as she tried to keep her tears back. “How are we going to get out of this?”
“We wait for the rescue,” Sara snorted. “I wouldn’t worry. Martin knows what he’s doing.”
“You have a lot of faith in your brother,” Nick sneered. He didn’t like the idea of getting rescued by a man he had been fighting against for the throne.
“You’ll see,” Sara said, not bothered by his remark. “We’ll get out of this.”
They waited in silence as the sun finally set, darkening the streets of Nacre. Nick didn’t know how long they were supposed to wait for a rescue when the shop door banged open.
“Wow!” a red head farmer said, stumbling into the room. He looked around the shop with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Talk about a dirty place!”
Several men filed in behind the farmer. These men looked dangerous, wielding clubs and spears.
“We’ll take care of the guards,” their leader said, a retired soldier from the sound of his voice. “Thanks for the tip, David.” He bowed towards them. “I’m sorry for our late arrival. It took us a while to find you.”
“No problem,” Sara said, smiling.
“I was wondering when you’d show up. Men! Attack!”
The Venter soldiers burst out and began fighting the rescuers. David quickly avoided the fight and joined them in the center of the room. “I think we should get out of here,” he said, looking at the fighting with fear.
“You’re not going anywhere, Alex.”
Nick spun around to find the Tracker not even five feet from them. The farmer seemed unsurprised by the dangerous spy’s sudden appearance.
“Saw through my disguise then,” the farmer said, loosing the underclass accent. Nick and the others turned in surprise. What was going on?
“You’re a clever man, Spy Alex,” Tracker said, smirking. “And difficult to find. However, I have been monitoring things in the city for a bit.” He paused and looked the red head over. “I can’t decide… Is that how you really look or is all effect?”
“Most of it is effect,” the Alex answered. “And I’m glad you spotted me. It would be a waste if I didn’t have one character in my bag of tricks that people would know it was me.”
“A spy does have a couple of those handy,” Tracker agreed. Nick had no idea what they were talking about, but he did stare in shock at the farmer. He was the Alex? Of course Nick had seen the red head around, but he never thought that he could be a spy!
Tracker then nodded to the Alex’s arms. They were covered in scars, typical of a man used to working around dangerous equipment like farming. “It was those scars that gave you away, you know.”
The Alex said nothing, the fighting around them coming close to an end as the rescuers beat the Venter soldiers.
“After our last fight, I knew there was something different about you,” Tracker went on to say. “You didn’t fight like any Aeternan I knew, nor any nation I could think of. Yours was a fighting style I had never seen. So I set out to find out where you actually learned to fight.
“I finally found the answer in our own army,” Tracker explained, completely unconcerned that his men had been overtaken and he the last Venteran in the room. “One of our training officers could never be beat in a fight and his style was much like yours, only with a Venter flare. I asked him where he learned to fight like that. And he told me.” The spy paused for dramatic effect.
“He was a street urchin from Loman.”
The Alex said nothing, though his hands clenched into fists. Tracker smirked at the spy’s reaction.
“Loman street urchins have to learn how to fight, and fast,” Tracker sneered. “But if they survive to their teens, the street gangs make them learn more stylized fighting and they loose all that wonderful fighting skills they had developed as kids. The training officer had been rescued off the streets before he was a teen and thus was allowed to keep his skills as a fighter.
“I assume the same happened to you. You caught some Aeternan’s eye when you were a kid on the streets and that Aeternan brought you here to Aeterna. You were allowed to keep your skills. They refined it, true, but they knew you could fight better than what any master could teach you.” He nodded again to the scarred arms. “Those mark you as a child from Loman, a street urchin who endured more beatings, more hunger, more cold nights than any child should endure.” The Tracker shook his head.
“I’m surprised they let you become the Alex.”
For a moment, the Alex didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed in hate. “I had to work hard for my title,” he finally answered softly. “I overcame a lot of obstacles to get to where I am.”
“So we’ve now reached the important bit of the evening,” Tracker yawned. “We’ll fight and see who wins. The winner gets to keep the nobles.”
“Done.” The finality in the way he said it was unnerving.
“Alex…” Sara said, her voice quivering. “Don’t…”
“Stay out of this,” the Alex said, gesturing them to move away while his eyes were locked on the Tracker. “This fight has to happen.”
Sara paled, but nodded and slowly backed away. Nick wasn’t slow to move out of the way, quickly finding safety with the rescuers. The lead man looked on with fear but did nothing to step in. This was a fight between two spymasters. No one could even possibly think of helping.
For a moment, neither spy moved, the stillness filling in the air around them. Then without warning, they both moved, knives suddenly in their hands as they tried to tear at each other. The Alex was quick to dodge Tracker’s first attack, slashing his knife down near the Venteran’s hip. Tracker twisted away, sending a hurtling knife towards the Aeternan spy’s neck. Impossibly, Alex bent back, flipping over in a handstand to get away in time.
The onlookers watched with amazement as the two men fought with precision, speed, and deadly grace. Nick didn’t know it was possible for anyone to move that fast with that much skill.
Suddenly, Tracker kicked out, hitting the Alex on the head. The Aeternan spy hit the ground with a roll, crouching away from them as he finally came to a rest. At first, Nick didn’t know what was happening until he noticed that the glasses and red wig had flown off.
He was in disguise, he thought, a bit numb. Why did that matter?
“That was a lucky hit,” the Alex said, his hunched back still towards them. “It’s been a while since someone’s done that.”
“I’m glad to have the honor,” Tracker sneered, knives still in both hands. “Now, how about getting up and we continue this fight.” Without waiting, the Tracker rushed at the Alex’s back.
The Alex whipped around just in time to block the spy’s attack, revealing his true face.
The face of Prince Martin Santer.
Everyone gasped. Tracker stared in horror at the man now fighting him.
“Surprised?” the prince asked, smirking. “You shouldn’t be.” He shoved the Tracker, causing the spy to loose his balance. Martin jumped to his feet, kicking out at the Tracker’s head. The spy barely managed to dodge it.
“Terk hired pirates to kidnap me,” Martin growled, attacking again. “Where else did you think they’d take me after double crossing Terk? Pouette, perhaps? Back here to Nacre?” Tracker had to roll out of the way as the prince slashed at the spy’s chest. “They took me to Loman.”
“No! This can’t be possible!” Tracker yelled, sweat covering his face. “You can’t be the Alex, Ghost Eighty-One, and the prince! You just can’t be!”
“Why not?” Martin sneered. “It makes horrible, perfect sense to you now, doesn’t it? How I’ve always been able to avoid capture, how I can escape every trap Terk has set for me. I was right there, all along. And none of you stopped to consider it.”
“You’re nothing more than a street urchin!” Tracker screamed, twisting away from one of the prince’s kicks. “That’s all you’ll ever be!”
“No,” the prince snapped. Suddenly, he ducked under Tracker’s punch and stepped up close to the spy. Tracker gasped in surprise. Martin stepped back, revealing the knife he had just thrust into the spy’s heart. Tracker gaped at the blade hilt in his chest, dropping to his knees. He struggled to breath as he looked up at the man towering over him.
“What are you?” Tracker breathed.
“I am Martin Santer,” the prince said. “And no one can take that from me again.”
“No…” Tracker coughed, dropping to the ground. “This can’t be… Just can’t…” He let out a final sigh, his eyes sightless with death.
*********
Thus ends Tracker. Thank goodness right? The reason I created this character was because I was getting a bit bored with villains who had to tell the hero their plan. Why do villains have to gloat anyway? Seems a bit stupid to me. So I created a character who wouldn’t brag and just kill the hero. (Although I know Tracker did to a bit of bragging towards the end. But hey, he was trying to physic Martin out before a fight. So it doesn’t really count.)
Anyway, I came to a chilling realization last night as I was preparing for this post. We have maybe five (six if I stretch it) posts left. Five. Then the story is done. Finished. The End. BAH! I can’t believe we’re getting so close! What am I supposed to post after it!? I suppose I could get some writing done, but A Memory of Light is coming out tomorrow and I’m likely to suffer from a book high after it. Sigh. And then I keep getting distracted… What do you think I should write next?
Got to go. Eye doctor is waiting. Enjoy the journey!
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