NaNoWriMo End

*******This has been cut out of the story. Read if you like or skip it*********

Well, as I told everyone last week, this is the last of my NaNoWriMo challenge. 50,938 words! This is an interesting number, though. Due to editing, I have added 930 words. (Yes, my final total in November was 50,008) The reason why this is interesting is because I got rid of four characters, deleted a few scenes, and got rid of redundant words. But then again, I added a character (Piro replace three of those characters), added more scenes than deleted, and lengthed some passages so it would make more sense.
Now time for review: Martin was stuck at the Tree until Fred came by and suggested that he take a "vacation." And yes, I know this post is a lot longer than previous ones, but none of you mind, right? ;) Now, we're off for an adventure!
**********
General Timothy Sanders glanced out the door of his tent at the setting sun and sighed. It was past the date when General Chief promised a spy would join his camp. “What could possibly be taking him so long?” No use worrying about things he could not control. He turned back to his paperwork.

“Sir.” Sanders looked up to see his aid, Corporal William Long standing at attention just inside. His last name managed to describe the young man very well; tall, lanky, even his face was comically long. It just emphasized his frown. “Forgive my asking, but have you gotten anything to eat tonight?”

Sanders glanced at the tray brought to him earlier in the evening. The food was cold and untouched. He shrugged. “I have to get this done before morning.” He gave his aid a stern look. “And it is none of your business.”

“It is too my business,” Long argued, taking long strides to the desk. He plucked the papers from his hands. “My job is to assist you. And I my job will only get harder if you get sick. Why didn’t you call me in for help?”

“Because you get on my nerves.” Corporal Long was assigned to him against his will. His wife, along with other generals, worried he would work himself out. He would have dismissed the corporal if he could have gotten away with it. But, he unwillingly admitted, the corporal was efficient.

“Any word yet about Chief’s package?” he asked; resigning himself to Long’s help.

“None, I’m sorry to report.” The man leafed through the papers, giving back only the ones that did need his attention. “Forgive me for saying this, but I don’t think anyone will be coming.”

Sanders frowned. He knew Fred Chief a long time; he rarely went back on his words. He sighed. “I’m afraid you might be right.” Taking up the papers he got back, he started his work again. Long finished his weeding of papers then left with a large stack to his own tent.

It was dark when someone else entered his tent. At first, he did not notice the newcomer until his shadow fell on his desk. Startled, he looked up to see a young man, old enough to join the army. His appearance was of common stalk, his unadorned clothes still dusty from travel.

“Sir,” he said when he glanced up, saluting. “I’m reporting for duty.”

“I’m afraid you may have gotten the wrong tent,” Sanders snorted. “New recruits are to report to the quartermaster.” He really needed a word with the quartermaster about this; the young man was the third one to accidentally report to him that week.

“I have the right tent,” the young man said with a smug smile. “General Chief sent me.”

Sanders glanced up from his work again, giving the man before him new consideration. Common looking he may be, but there was a presence about him. His hazel eyes took everything in; doubtless he did not miss much. The way he moved, silently and precisely, spoke of the control he had of himself. Sanders berated himself for not noticing earlier. This young man was a spy.

“If you need proof,” he replied, pulling a letter out of his coat, “here’s the order from the Ghost Commander himself.”

The general took the letter and glanced over it. The signature at the bottom was no forgery. “So you are.” He stood and shook the young spy’s hand firmly. “I’m glad Chief was able to get you away from Suit’s grasp.”

“Though it did involve pulling teeth on both men’s parts,” the spy replied, grimacing slightly. “I feel sorry for those who got left behind.”

“I’m sorry for them too,” Sanders chuckled. “Long!” The spy frowned until his aid burst into the tent, then nodded to himself, as if confirming something.

“Yes, sir?”

Sanders nodded to the young spy. “Chief’s package has arrived. Please show him to his station.” Long frowned at the young man, his eyes distrustful.

“Forgive me for saying this, but isn’t he a little young?”

The spy shrugged. “Been trained since I was a kid.”

Long snorted, a clear opinion he had of the story. “And what are we supposed to call you?”

The spy paused. “You may call me Alex,” he said slowly. Sanders shared a look with his aid.

“Alex?” Long said flatly. “You mean the top field spy Aeterna has? The Alex, a spy rumored to be a master of disguise, intrigue, knives, and combat? A spy rumored to be able to disappear before other’s eyes and steal things most think safe? The spy Alex?” He barked a laugh. “Aren’t you a bit young?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “The title Alex has been passed down from master to master for years. I just got the title.” He pointed at Long with a firm finger. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t live up to those rumors. I was picked for a reason. Don’t forget that.”

Sanders had to take a step back, though he was not the one under that tongue. No, he stepped back because of the look in the young man’s eyes. In those eyes, there was a determined man, a man who would not stand to be thought any less of what he was. He shivered; those eyes told him how the young man was able to claim the title he did. The spy earned it through sheer hard work and he was proud of it.

His aid shriveled beneath the young man’s stern gaze. “Yes, Alex,” he muttered, adverting his eyes. “If you say so.” Alex snorted, apparently satisfied.

“Now,” Alex said, shifting his pack higher onto his shoulder. “How about showing me where I’m stationed? The cover story, by the way, is that I am a new recruit.”

“Don’t we want our people to know you’re a spy?” Sanders asked. “The other spies did.”

The young spy sighed. “I’m temporary. I haven’t gained any of your men’s trust; I’ve got to work the hard way of getting information. Besides, it’s easier to say I was transferred when the time comes that I have to leave.”

Sanders found himself nodded at the logic of it. “Very well. Long, take Alex to the quartermaster and have him fitted for a uniform and assigned to a unit.”

“As you order.” Long bowed before leaving the tent, the young spy following. Sanders let out a slow breath. This was not going to be the last time the young spy was going to shock him.
*********
Corporal Long took him to the quartermaster’s tent in a timely manner; though he did suspect the general’s aid wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Martin thought he understood why; most people were intimidated by talented ones. And he was talented, though his talents were, at times, unlawful.

As soon as the quartermaster had his false name, Long took off and left him to be processed. The quartermaster was like others he had met; stern and unforgiving. Once he was given a uniform, with an order to return in the morning to get more, he was told to get in it. Once changed, he knew what was going to happen as he stepped up to the mirror for sizing. Martin shivered. He had yet to get used to his lack of reflection.

“It’s good enough,” the quartermaster grumbled as he tugged on his uniform before the mirror. Martin almost sighed in relief. The man apparently saw his reflection. At least now he did not have to worry about avoiding mirrors.

After getting the general direction of where his unit was posted, he was told to leave. He did so gladly. He never did like the army setting. They were strict with rules and orders. A man could get himself in a lot of trouble for not obeying an order as thought proper. He had learned a long time before to interpret orders to get a job done. Here, he could be court marshaled for those interpretations.

Making his way to his assigned unit, he thought about his orders from Chief. Help this army until further notice. “How am I supposed to help them?” Suit never sent him to their armies; those assignments went to spies who were starting to feel their age and wanted something less exciting in their later years.

“Well, the only way to learn is to ask.” The problem was founding out who to ask. No doubt this army had Venter spies He was not too worried on that front; there was only one Venter spy who could match him. He had met the Venter top spy, Tracker, a few times and he doubted very much Tracker would be here.

“Unless something major is going to happen here.” He shook his head at the thought. There had just been a battle the week before and both armies were recovering. The only thing either side wanted to do was to regroup.

“Where do you think you’re headed?”

Martin spun around, ready for a fight. The soldier behind him was of the common stock, tall and burly. Though he did have his dull brown hair long enough to tie in a tail. Behind the soldier was a tent full of others eating. The soldier frowned to see him tense up.

“Just trying to figure out where I am,” he replied, relaxing.

“I figured you did,” the man chuckled. “You have that sort of look. You know, the look of what have I gotten myself into. The name’s Roy.”

“Alex.” They shook hands.

“So, where you assigned?”

Martin glanced down at the orders the quartermaster had given him. “The second unit under Coronal Parr.” Roy suddenly laughed and slapped him on the back. Martin wanted to cringe; it wasn’t that Roy had a strong arm, just had a snap to it.

“That’s where I am! Come along, I’ll show you around.”
*********
Roy meant around. By the time orders came to return to their tents, Roy had showed him the mess, officers’ quarters, the laundry, weapon’s training, and nearly every privy in the camp. Martin wished Roy was not the first to grab him; the man could talk until a rock got bored.

“Of course,” Roy was saying as Martin found his bed, “we’ll be up early in the morning. I hope you like stale food too, cause that’s all you’re going to get for breakfast. I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”

“I’m not surprised,” Martin muttered under his breath. Ignoring Roy’s continued chatter; he dove under the covers and tried to stuff his ears between the flat pillow and thin blankets. He wanted to thank the officer who came into the tent shortly after and barked an order to get to sleep.

Finally, the tent got quiet. He listened for a while to the other men’s snores, counting each distinct snore he heard. Roy said there were six other men sleeping there; eight including him and Roy. Once he was sure there were seven separate snores, he relaxed.

“Gosh,” he thought as he rolled over on his pallet. “I’m getting jumpy.” That, he supposed, was a side effect of having no reflection. Trying to find a comfortable spot, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Martin found himself standing in an empty version of the camp, and though the sky was dark, there seemed to be a faint light surrounding him. Walking around a bit, he realized the light went with him. “Now what’s the meaning of this?” He knew he was dreaming again; the last few months of odd dreams were starting to get familiar with him, but the dreams always had a meaning.

“Hello?” he asked; half expecting an answer. He frowned when no one answered him. Shrugging, he walked around the camp, wondering why it seemed more ghost town than actual army camp.

“This is getting boring,” he thought after a while of roaming. But he was not sure what else he could do. Thinking of nothing better to do, he went to the tent he as assigned. It was empty like the rest of the camp, even his cot. He sat down on the cot, wondering what he was supposed to do. Glancing over to the trunk at the end of his bed, he noticed a tin cup sitting on it.

“One of the others must have put that there.” Reaching over, he went to pick it up, half expecting his hand to go right through it. Surprised when he was able to grasp it, he lost his grip and it fell.

Bang!

“Huh?” Roy said from the cot next to him, sitting up lazily. “What was that?”

Martin was in the cot again, staring at the cup. For a moment, he thought he saw himself sitting on the edge of the cot with the fallen cup. He shook his head.

“Great,” muttered one of the other soldiers. “I forgot I put that there. Sorry, Alex, it must have tipped off of your trunk.”

“Aaron,” snapped several other voices.

“Yeah,” Roy muttered, plopping back down on his pillow. “This is the third time your things have fallen off of something.”

Martin sat quietly as the other men muttered the same thing, afraid to speak. That cup did not just fall. “I dropped it in my dreams…” He wanted to moan. What else could his dreams do?
**********
The next few days were boring. Wake up, eat, drill, eat, sleep, only to wake up again. The same routine over and over. Martin wanted to scream at the monotony of it all. The problem with a routine was that sooner or later, a person could do it in their sleep. He was able to achieve that in just a few days. His body went about doing the work, leaving his mind to think of things he would rather not. Such as his absent reflection. The only good thing he could think of was that he no longer dreamed in the place where he could affect the actual world.

Going on the morning run with the rest of the unit, he was there when a messenger galloped into the camp. Martin caught a look at the young man riding the sweat covered horse; he looked as tired as his steed.

“Seems the Mad General has sent his answer,” Roy muttered as they ran on. Martin frowned at the soldier.

“General Sanders sent a message to Terk?”

“Yep.” Roy waved off in the direction the messenger had come from. “We had a battle no so long ago. We were supposed to hold a prisoner exchange last week, but the Mad General held out.”

“Why?”

Roy shrugged. “Who knows? There’s a reason they call him the Mad General.”

Martin did not answer at that; he knew how Terk had little hold on his sanity. But that was still no excuse; even Terk obeyed the rules of war when it benefited him. An exchange was a benefit to him; feed and tend his own soldiers instead of prisoners. His senses tingled; there was something more going on.

“Wait,” he said, realizing what he should have earlier. “Wasn’t Terk at Fort Pinewood not too long ago? Why suddenly come here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Roy slowed to a stop when the order came. Groaning, he stretched his arms above his head. “I’ll say it again. There’s a reason they call him the Mad General.”

Martin nodded. He went along with the unit as they made their way back to their tents to change when Coronal Long found him. The general’s aid had that expression again, like he had swallowed something sour. According to the men, Long always had that expression when he was not working on papers. Rumors went around that the coronal hated human contact in any way.

“Private Alex,” he called out. Martin gritted his teeth. Why didn’t he just yell that he was important? A private wasn’t supposed to get the attention of a general’s aid. Taking a slow breath, he turned and saluted the aid.

“Yes, sir?”

“General Sanders wishes to see you.”

“Great. And why don’t you just announce to the entire camp that I’m a spy while you’re at it too.” He was going to have to give some pointers to the aid about how to be inconspicuous.

But an order was an order. It would look odd if he did not obey. Planning his lecture for the coronal, he went to the command tent. He got there in time to see the messenger leave the tent. Frowning, he waited for the aid to announce him before entering himself.

General Sanders sat at a long table, glaring at the papers laid out before him. Martin bowed but had to cough to get the man’s attention.

“Oh, Alex,” he said, looking up. “There you are. I wanted to ask you a question.”

“I’m quite good at answering them.”

The general paused and gave a weak laugh. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor, I just hope it lasts. How much do you know of General Terk?”

Martin wanted to roll his eyes. When war was declared, Suit had every spy study the top generals of the Venter army; the mad one included. “He’s a duke in Venter, known for his blackmail and random executions of his staff. As a general, he’s what some consider a genius.”

“Yourself included?” Sanders interrupted.

“He has some brilliance,” he admitted unwillingly. “He called off the first war when King Jonathan took the throne and waited until he knew more about our king before attacking again.”

“What of the man, though?” Sanders asked, straitening his papers. “What kind of man is General Terk?”

“Quick temper, cold logic when he’s in control of his temper, he doesn’t trust anyone.” Martin stopped to smile. “And he throws a tantrum if things don’t go his way.”

Sanders chuckled. “So you do know Terk. Then answer me this: why after agreeing to exchanged prisoners does he back out?” He picked a paper from the pile and frowned. “He’s known for always agreeing to the exchange; he wants to get what he’s paid his people for. But this letter from him says he will not. Any ideas why?”

Martin motioned to a chair. “May I?” After the general nodded, he sat down, thinking. “The soldiers he’s captured must have something he wants,” he said slowly.

“But what could they have?” Sanders frowned.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he shrugged. “Terk isn’t known for telling people his reasons for what he does.” Sanders began to rub his bearded chin.

“He also wants to meet with me again. To discuss a truce for another month. He wants to talk at Fort Mesa. Are you familiar to the hospital fort?”

He nodded; he did know. That was where he was put after he was brought to Aeterna. It was there when he had learned just how different Aeterna was to Loman. There people actually cared for him, they didn’t treat him like a thief. Food, clothing, a kind word and smile. Things he never knew on the streets. At Fort Mesa he vowed to do everything he could for Aeterna.

“I’m willing to bet that Terk picked the fort because of its neutral location.”

“Sound logic.”

“I don’t think so,” Sanders snorted. He leaned forward. “I was ordered to keep silent, but there are some important people hiding at Mesa. One of them a traitor to Terk. Information may have leaked and the general may want to get a hold of them.”

Martin could see where the conversation was going. “You want me to go ahead and scout the fort out? Make sure there are no enemy spies lurking about?”

Sanders paused. He almost smiled again. “Well, it seems that you do keep a sense of humor even after stress. Get packed. I want to make sure Terk has no surprises waiting for us.”
**********
Roy was driving the supply cart; though Martin rather felt that he should have. He would not have had spent all his energy trying to find every pot hole in the road. He sat in the back of the wagon, ignoring the chatter up front and checking the supply list again. The orders were to get more medical supplies from the hospital fort. Martin was glad the general had at least a bit of sense to give him a reason to be somewhere.

“Everyone has a reason for what they do,” his training had always told him. “The trick of spying is to figure out other’s reasons and to keep your own unremarkable.” And he did that well. No one looked twice at him. He had been proud of it, but that was before his lucky charm had turned into a royal Connection, his reflection was missing, and his dreams could affect reality.

“Now I’m second guessing everything,” he thought, gazing out the back of the wagon. “What if I am the prince? What am I going to do?” He had been trained in shadows, told to be ordinary, taught to think that everyone had a secret. In the world of spies, trusted friends were rare. A spy lived alone.

What he knew of princes, he admitted, was limited. Although, he did doubt that the life he lead would be an acceptable lifestyle for any respectable citizen, little alone a prince.

“I have a job,” he reminded himself. “Stop asking questions you can’t answer.” If he really was the prince, and the time came to tell others the truth, then he would deal with it.

“We’re here,” Roy said up front. Martin joined the soldier as they approached the fort. It was built on a high steep hill; the reason it was called Mesa. The forest surrounding the fort thinned as they got closer to the twisting road to the front gate. Martin eyed the road and the switch backs.

“I think I should drive us up,” he remarked to Roy. The soldier laughed.

“I’m not too bad a driver. I can drive to the very edge without going over.”

“I’d rather not go over in the first place.”

But he had no choice, Roy kept driving. After the first switch back, he escaped to the back of the wagon, unable to watch their accent to the fort. He sat down and cradled his head in his hands, wishing the ride was over. He nearly sobbed in relief as Roy stopped the wagon in front of the gate. The solider explained their orders and they were admitted. Finally, Martin climbed back up when he heard the front gate close. Roy was laughing at him again.

“Afraid of heights, are you?”

Martin did not answer. He was afraid of heights, as long as he could remember. “You put away the wagon,” he told the soldier. “I’ll go talk to Healer Hanna.” He jumped off and walked away, pretending not to hear Roy’s long-winded good bye. Crossing the busy court yard, he entered the tall main building. It lacked the regular dull functional structure of other forts. The place was originally a nobleman’s mansion, but changed to a fort a hundred years before. He liked the design of Fort Mesa; the tall colored windows created a warm atmosphere and the red stone inviting. It was a place of healing and the non military resemblance attracted people better than other hospitals.

Stopping a white robbed assistant, he asked where he might find the Head Healer. She informed him Healer Hanna could be found in her office. This surprised him; the healer was known for working in the wards. She was rarely found in her office. Slightly troubled, he went to the office.

Healer Hanna’s office was on the first floor and was more of a hole in the wall than an actual room. He glanced inside; there was just enough room for two chairs and a small desk. Healer Hanna sat on one of the chairs, rummaging around under her desk. He knocked on the door.

“Humph!” She rubbed the top of her gray head as she popped up from under the desk. “Who’s a come calling?”

Martin smiled. Healer Hanna was one of the few people he trusted completely. The only secrets she had were others, some he already knew. Her only wish was to heal people; that simple desire really made this small woman into the greatest healers in Aeterna.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully, leaning against the door frame. The healer gazed at him blankly for a moment before placing his face. Smiling widely, she stepped around her desk and gave him a hug.

“If I’ll be,” she said, holding him at arms’ length, looking up at him. “If it isn’t my young sneak. Joined the army now, eh? Those other liars got to you?”

He laughed. She knew all about his job and knew better than to say it aloud. “I’m just a temp in the army,” he told her, tapping the side of his nose. “The liars still got a hold on me. Oh, and the name is Alex while I’m here.”

“Well, my Alex,” she laughed, using his spying name. “What am I ever going to do with you? Come, there’s someone you might want to meet.” Martin frowned as he followed the small woman to the second floor where the records were held.

“Aren’t you the bit least curious why I’m here?”

Hanna laughed. “Not really. You usually have a good reason to be where ever you’re at.” She stopped at the head of the stairs and frowned slightly at him. “Though I am a bit surprised they would send another liar here.”

Martin frowned. “Another liar?” He knew there was a spy assigned to Fort Mesa, though no one gave him real thought. He was there just in case something did happen at the fort.

“Yes-syrup,” she chuckled as she went on walking. “A pretty young thing. Said she was here to look at records.”

He stopped in his tracks, his stomach taking a sudden drop. He knew who the healer was talking about. He also knew why she was here. Hanna knocked on a door before he could stop her.

“Sona,” she called. “There’s another liar here.”

The door opened and Sona poked her head out into the hall. Martin wanted to run away; she knew perfectly well that he was supposed to stay at the Tree. The pretty researcher quickly found him and smiled.

“Alex,” she said, coming out of the room. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Same here, Sona.” He was in trouble.

“Well then,” Hanna said, her twinkling eyes darting between the two, “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Chuckling to herself, the healer walked back down. “If you’ll be needing anything, just ask around for me!” She waved absently before she disappeared from view, leaving him alone with the pretty researcher. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. There was nothing he could say that could console Sona.

“Well,” she said, looking him up and down. “I must say, you do look the part of a soldier.” She smiled again at his blush. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to chew you out. Come in, I’ve just found something.”

He followed her inside the record room. It was full of files of all those who had been admitted into the hospital fort. No doubt Sona was here searching for anything the Tree records might have missed.

“Suit sent you here?” he asked. Sona laughed as she sat down at a table and began sorting the papers.

“Of course he did.” She looked up at him through her eye lashes; it was very distracting. “And General Chief has ordered you here. Why?”

“Actually,” he muttered, sitting down. “I’m assigned to General Sanders and he ordered me here.”

“Oh, that explains everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Suit should have never let you go off duty.”

Martin paused; that was not what he was expecting from her. “You think Chief was right to… ask me to do him a favor on my vacation?”

“Is that’s what Chief called it?” She laughed. “Suit called it kidnapping, but I like your description better. And yes, I think it was right. A man of your talents shouldn’t be left to waste.”

He was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “And what if I am the prince?” his voice soft. “Shouldn’t I be protected?”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Not really,” she finally said after she had searched his face. “There’s only a one in hundred chance that you could be the prince. And besides, you’re not the type to sit around idly. If we didn’t give you something to do, you’d find something else.” She almost smiled. “And that something else is usually a prank of some sort.”

He could not argue against that; many of his teachers named him a troublemaker. Even Healer Hanna called him that. “You said you found something.”

She smirked, glancing down at her papers. “I’m not telling you. The queen wants this list to be kept secret. And besides, you’re on the list. You may want me to take you off of it.” She smacked his hand as he tried to pick up one of the files. He rubbed his hand.

“What gave you that idea?” She only chuckled at him again. He watched her casually slip the file under the desk. Apparently, he had picked up something important.

“Now, let’s see if you’ll answer my question.” She propped her elbows on the table, resting her head on her hands. “Why are you actually here?”

“Well,” he said, copying her pose, “unlike yourself, I can tell you. Hear about the battle a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yes. And I also know about the meeting with Terk next week.” She sighed dramatically. “Oh, let me guess. You’re here to scout out the fort.”

“That’s part of it,” he admitted. “Terk didn’t do the regular prisoner exchange. Sanders is worried. When the Mad General breaks his routine, it usually means something bad.”

Sona nodded her head. “Makes sense.” She sighed again, looking around her table. “Probably means that I should get through these as fast as possible. No offense, but I don’t like action. And where you are concerned, trouble finds you.”

“Oh, Sona!” He gave her a pained expression, grimacing comically. “You wound me!” He smiled at her laugh. After the laughter died down, Sona snapped her fingers.

“Speaking of trouble,” she said, digging through the papers, “there’s something I think you’ll want to see.” She rummaged for a minute before finally pulling out a newspaper.

“What’s this?” he asked as she handed it to him.

“The front page speaks for itself.”

Frowning, Martin unfolded the newspaper to read it. The paper was from Nacre, dated a week earlier, and the headline couldn’t be any bolder or larger. He let out a tired sigh as he read it.

Prince Henry Alive!

“So the queen has told everyone,” he moaned. He quickly read through the article, most of the information he already knew. Thankfully there was no mention of him and the roll he had played. Though he was surprised the queen had revealed that the prince’s face had been changed.

“Yes,” Sona shared his sigh. “Even with Suit asking she wouldn’t. But she was insistent, something about the prince belonging to the people. Though, we were able to delay her return to Nacre until we had finished the list.”

Martin paused. “The list is done?”

“Nearly,” she huffed. “We’re still looking to make sure we hadn’t missed anyone. But the master list has been made.”

“List!” Martin suddenly exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “The made up reason Sanders sent us here! Sorry, Sona, I’ve got to get that done.” Why had he been distracted?

“I’ll be here,” she assured him, laughing. “Get going!”
************
Healer Hanna looked over the list he handed over. After leaving Sona, he went in search again for the head healer. It took him a while to locate her though. She was where he expected her to be; working in the wards helping people.

“It might take a couple of days to organize this,” she mused, handing the list back to him. She walked over to the bed side of a soldier with a missing leg. “I hope neither of you are in a hurry to get back.”

“Not really.”

She chuckled. “Good. Go make yourself useful. I won’t have lazy hands in my fort!” Martin bowed to her with a smile. The small woman believed that, if possible, work could heal a person better than bed rest. He agreed with her on that.

“So,” Roy said as he found him outside as he finished taking care of the horses. “What did the Healer say?”

“We’ll be here a few days while they get what we need,” he answered, rubbing the side of his nose. “In the meantime, we’re to make ourselves busy.”

The soldier frowned. “What kind of work can we do here? I don’t know anything about healing.”

“There’s plenty.” Martin began listing all the work that was done in the fort. Any large group of people needed a variety of talents. After he explained manual labor, the soldier threw up his hands.

“Alright, I get the picture! I’ll get going.” He turned to help the stable hands, then turned back around. “Where you going to help?”

Martin smiled and waved farewell, but said nothing. Though he would like to help around the fort, but he did have a job. Find any possible traps. His first task was to learn more about those at the hospital. For some reason, he found himself smiling. He knew exactly where to find out that information and who was there.

Sona looked up from her table when he walked in and raised an eyebrow. “Back so soon?” He chuckled as he sat back down.

“I suppose you have the census of the day?”

“I figured that’s why you were here.” Reaching under the table, she pushed a large box to his feet. “That’s everyone, yourself and the young soldier you came with excluded.”

He snorted. “Let me guess, you refuse to give me my file and Roy doesn’t have one yet.”

She gave him a fierce glare. “About your file,” she said, “I can’t find it.” She scowled. The researcher hated it when she missed information.

He grimaced; he rarely talked about his past. “I asked that details of my recovery were kept locked up.”

“Why?” The confusing look in her eyes seemed more caring than condemning. “And what recovery?”

Martin averted his gaze. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Someday, you’re going to have to,” she said wisely. Martin kept his gaze away from her. Though she had a point, especially if he were the prince, he still felt the pain of his street days if he thought about it. His arms immediately began to itch and his back stung.

“I’ve really got work to do,” he suddenly said, grabbing the first file out of the large box she pushed to him. He did not miss the confused and worried look Sona had as she gazed at him. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore her sanction. Finally, he sighed and glanced up at her concerned face.

“Believe me when I say that you won’t find anything to help you find the prince in my file here,” he told her. “Yes, when I was brought to Aeterna, I needed to have… treatment and the details of my healing… It’s hard to read. So please, can we please talk of something else?”

Sona gave him a small smile. “Alright,” she said, reaching across the table and patting his hand. “We’ll talk of other things. Can you tell me what’s good to eat here?” Martin sighed in relief and told her about the average food selection found at Mesa, glad she understood.
*************
It was long after dinner and near dark before they left the records room. The researcher did not ask anything more about his files, but there was a certain softness in her eyes as she looked at him. From any other person, he would have done everything he could to prove he did not need the sympathy. But from her… He wondered why he felt happy about how she respected him.

“Find anything suspicious about the people here?” Sona asked as they walked down to the kitchen to pick up a meal they both skipped.

“Not really,” Martin admitted with a comical sigh. “I guess I’ll just need to go sneaking around.”

“Hanna won’t like that much.” He glanced at her to see the mischief in her eyes.

Winking at her, he gave her a small smile. “Then it’s best if we don’t tell her.” They shared a laugh.

Reaching the first floor and headed for the basement, Martin stopped. The researcher frowned at him. “Something the matter?”

“Where is everyone?” he asked. “I don’t hear anyone.”

Sona frowned as she glanced around. “You’re right. It’s too early for anyone to be asleep. What do you think?”

“They might be in the yard,” he suggested. “It’s warm enough for outdoor activities. Hanna has been known to suggest such things. ‘Fresh air heals just as good as bed rest.’”

“You certainly know a lot of the Healer’s phrases.” She glanced towards the door. “Should we go see?”

Nodding, they went for the door. Out of habit, he opened the door a crack and peeked outside. “Uh, oh.” Sona also peeked out and groaned. The courtyard was full of Venter soldiers. Opening the door a hair wider, he saw the healers being held in a tight circle.

“When did they get here?” she whispered to him.

“Most likely during dinner,” he muttered, doing a quick count of the soldiers. “The guards here are more lax at meal times.” He groaned. “Great.”

“What?” Sona moved to look in the same direction. She shared his groan.
General Terk was riding through the gates.
********
They did not waste any more time at the door. Instead, they went looking for a place to hide. Sona suggested that they hide in one of the healing wards, since neither of them saw any bedridden patients among the captured. It would have worked if there were not soldiers standing guard at the wards' doors. Both of them knew it would be useless to try another.

“Now where?” Sona asked as they slipped away. Martin led the way through corridors least used.

“I know there’s a hidden room under the stables,” he suggested. “They would have already searched there…What’s another couple workers?”

“You’re in an Aeternan uniform,” she pointed out. “And there aren’t many girls in the Venter army.” She coughed. “Not respectable ones anyway. Any other places? An attic perhaps?” Martin scowled. He hated heights. Then it came to him.

“I got it!” He snapped his fingers. “This was a nobleman’s mansion and the original design had a hidden tunnel.”

“And where is this hidden tunnel?” Martin could not stop himself from chuckling.

“Healer Hanna’s office. She picked that hole in the wall for an office because of that tunnel. It helped her get away from her office when the paper work began piling up.”

“I had wondered…” Sona mused. She jumped when they heard an oncoming patrol. Martin grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the corridor. Neither of them talked as they made their way back to Hanna’s office. Thankfully, there were no soldiers posted in the hall or at the office door.

Sprinting across the empty corridor, Sona first slid into the room followed by Martin. He closed the door as quietly as he could before letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Is it always this exciting on missions?” Sona asked, rubbing her arms. She held up a hand before he could answer. “Never mind. I’ve read your reports. Where’s this tunnel?”

“Move the chairs out of the way.” As she did as he asked, he pushed the small desk against the door. Opposite of the door was a blank wall with a single brick sticking an inch out. Feeling the underside of the outstanding brick, he felt the handle. He pushed gently on it and the entire back wall was pushed in. Sona slipped around the wall into the tunnel beyond. Martin also carefully maneuvered to the other side. Finding a similar brick on the other side, he used the handle and closed the wall.

“Great,” he heard the researcher mutter as the wall closed and enclosing them in darkness “Any ideas about how to see?”

Martin snorted as he began feeling the wall. His hand bumped against a metal lantern he knew was there. He felt around it for a flint and steel and lit the fuse. Sona let out her own soft sigh.

“Right,” he said, lifting the lantern off the hook. “Now we know we aren’t going to be found soon. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do next.”

“We should find out why the Mad General is here,” she suggested, rubbing her arms again. Martin hung the lantern back up, took off his coat, and gave it to her. She smiled gratefully at him as she put it on.

“First guess would be that he’d want to search the records for the prince, like you were.” He lifted the lantern again and walked down the musky tunnel. “But he didn’t have his soldiers ripping the records apart when they got here. Otherwise we would have been found.”

Sona snorted. “Besides, he doesn’t want to find the prince himself. He probably figures the queen will find him and then he can take the heir again.” Martin silently agreed. Terk was known for letting others do his work.

“And this fort doesn’t have any real military advantage,” he pointed out. “Sure, it’s high, but the forest around is thick. We’re not close to any major cities…”

“Perhaps he needs more healers for his own army?” Martin glanced back, frowning.

“Perhaps.”

She scowled at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“I said perhaps!” he argued. “It’s just… Terk hates to pay people; that’s why he always does a prisoner exchange. If he’s going to pay for food and care of men, he wants it to be his own. He didn’t do it this last battle and now he’s taken over the hospital fort? That’s more people he has to feed. It doesn’t add up.”

Sona hummed softly to herself. “No, it doesn’t.” She followed after him in silence for a few moments before glancing around. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“There’s a small room near the exit,” he explained. “Complete with chairs and tables. We’ll be more comfortable.”

“How did you know about this tunnel?”

He coughed. “Well…I found the other end and followed it.”

“And why did you find the other end?” Her voice sounded amused.

“So I didn’t want to clean the privies. Can you blame me?” He smiled at her laugh. He glanced around the tunnel, remembering the time he spent at the fort. “I don’t think this place has any more secrets for me. I didn’t trust people when I came here. I was always looking for a place to hide.”

“Now, you’ve stopped hiding.” Sona’s statement cut at him. She was wrong; he was still hiding. Hiding a dangerous truth.

“She’s implying that I trust her…” He shook his head. Yes, he did trust her, but he knew there were some problems that needed to be worked on by the individual. Until he found his reflection again, he did not dare tell anyone about the uncomfortable possibility of his being the prince.

They walked down the tunnel for a few more minutes until they came to the room. It was as he said, with chairs and tables, and bare of anything else. But they did not mind as they sunk down on the creaking chairs.

“Let’s review the facts,” Sona suggested.

“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We know Terk has a large number of extra people.”

“Most of them either injured or sick,” she pointed out.

“And he wants to talk to General Sanders a week from today, here. A demonstration, perhaps?” He shivered at the possibility; Terk had been known to make such demonstrations to his own people, though never in war.

“I hope not,” Sona said, shivering herself despite his coat she wore. “But if that is the case, I’d rather not wait to see how it pans out.”

“We need to get Sanders here as fast as possible,” he concluded. “He has a strong enough force to take the fort back.”

Sona sat up in her chair, her eyes flashing. “You are not going to send me away to deliver messages!”

He threw up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He ran his hands through his short hair. “And I need to stay. Terk is up to something and I need to figure out what it is…” He sat there in thought before slapping his thigh. “Roy.”

“Roy?” Sona tilted her head. “The soldier you came with? Shouldn’t he be caught by now?”

“Probably,” he admitted. “But he does know where Sanders is. Shouldn’t be hard for us to spring him.” Sona glared at him. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she snapped. “I am not going to do that either!”

“Oh, come on,” he pled, getting on his knees and holding his clasped hands towards her. “All I’m asking for you to do is a bit of acting until I can knock the guards out!”

“No!” She stood and started to pace. Martin waited, knowing he could get an ear full if he said something now. Suddenly, she stopped and glared down at him. “Fine,” she snapped. “But you had better be quick about knocking the guards out!”

He smiled up at her. “I’m the fastest.”
**************
Obviously, the story does not end here, but this is where I ended last November. So, what am I going to do now with the challenge done and posted? Last week I mentioned how you readers have motivated me to keep writing. So here’s what I’m going to do: Every week I’ll post what I have written during the week. Sometimes it will be ten pages, other times it will be five, it all depends on how busy I am. But since I now have people actually checking up on my writings, this story will go forward. Then next week we’ll start on the freshly written adventures of Martin!

Now without a reflection...

Well, it's been an eventful week since I last posted. List of events as they happened: Oldest brother announces that they are moving, my parents buy a brand new truck (to pull the trailer they bought a year ago without anything to pull it with :P), older brother got job interview at my work place, I went to Yellowstone with Amanda and Lindsey, where we had so much fun and ended the day with watching a wolf eat a bison carcass, returned to rainy Idaho Falls, older brother got job at work place, and then I suddenly realized... I'll tell you that last part at the end of the post. (Just because I'm maddening that way)

Review from last week: Terk doesn't know where the prince is, Martin escapes from Pinewood (when we learn he's terrified of heights), it is discovered that the prince's face has been magically changed, and Martin loses his reflection. Poor, poor character. What's he to do without it?
*********
Suit was not happy about the news about how little Terk knew about the prince. But his anger about that could not compare with learning Terk had seen his face.

“Sir,” Martin tried to explain, but the old man silenced him with a sharp jab of his hand.

“I was too prideful,” he growled, still pacing around his office as Martin was forced to stand at attention. “I thought you could handle the Mad General. I’m just… I can’t send you out to work against Terk. I’ve been training you for it for weeks! All that work, worthless!” He huffed as he finally sat down. Taking deep and slow breaths, he was able to reign in his temper.

“I’m not blaming you,” the Spy Master said, letting out a final sigh. “It’s been a very trying few months.” Martin couldn’t argue on that point. “All we can do now is move on. You are dismissed.”

Martin bowed and left the office as fast as he could without looking too eager to get away. Once he was sure no one could hear him, he let out a sigh of his own. That surprisingly went better than he thought it would. Perhaps that was because he did manage to get the folder about the prince that had cooled Suit’s temper. Moving along, he went to the cafeteria, hoping for a chance to eat before anyone else could give him an ear full. Mr. Ander, Luke’s father, had given him an ultimatum earlier that morning, followed closely by the Spy Master.

“Now all I need is the queen to tell me off.” He had been expecting Queen Abigail and Sona to summon him and grill him about his mission. They were probably too excited about the file to give him any heed. That was just fine with him. Anything to prolong meeting with the queen and the pretty researcher was alright in his books.

“Martin!” Sona called, waving her hand as she spotted him coming down the hall. He resisted the urge to sigh again.

“So much for lunch.”

“Yes?” he asked, walking over to her. He peered into the large research room she was leaning out of.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked, smiling. For some reason, the smile was distracting.

“I was sort of hoping…” he started to say when she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room.

“I have lunch here,” she said with a dismissive wave of her other hand. “We have a lot to talk about. That folder! Martin, I can’t thank you enough for finding it for us.”

“A good thanks would be to leave me alone.” But he said nothing as he sat down at the table where she had lunch set out. He was surprised to see the amount she had.

“You planning on eating all this?” he asked as she sat down next to him.

“No.” She grinned. “People have been coming in and out all day. Best to keep everyone happy and fed right?”

He paused then nodded in agreement. Picking out a roll, he tore it open and began to butter it. “Since I’m one of those in and out people, what can I do for you? I mean, you did pull me in here for a reason right?”

She snorted softly. “You always see true intentions. Yes, I want to talk about what happened at Fort Pinewood.”

“It’s all in my report,” he pointed out.

“I know. But I want to hear it from your mouth.” Martin paused again. She wanted to hear it from him? Suspicious, and somewhat glad she wanted to talk to him rather than read, he told her nearly everything. His capture, his escape, finding the folder. She absorbed his words eagerly.

“Then Thomas and Luke helped you escape,” she mused. She glanced to the other table covered with books and notes. “There was no more information about the prince?”

“Nope.” He sighed; it was not exactly a lie, his strange dreams were not found at the fort. “And I didn’t have time to go looking for anything else.”

She smiled at him. “At least you got out alive. And with the folder. I don’t think any of us would want more than that.” Martin stared at her. What did that mean?

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Found anything useful in that file I so graciously got for you?”

She sighed. Standing up, Sona went over to the table and picked up the papers. “Although this tells us that Terk did kidnap our prince, it doesn’t tell us why.”

Martin snorted. He had time to look through the file before they reached the Tree. Luke had insisted that he had; his friend said he should at least know more about himself. Martin thought his friend was getting too excited about it all.

“But it does give us some clues,” Sona went on to say. “Like the fact the prince’s face was changed. He’ll be harder to locate now!”

“If Terk had his hand in something,” Queen Abigail said, sweeping into the room. “Then we must expect it to become more difficult.” Martin jumped to his feet and bowed. Sona likewise curtsied. The queen nodded her head to acknowledge them.

“Your Majesty,” Sona said quickly, a small blush coming to her cheeks. “Martin and I were just discussing your son.”

“So I heard,” Abigail replied with a small smile. Her eyes twinkled as she switched her gaze from the pretty researcher to him. He wished he could squirm under that gaze. “Tell me, Martin, what do you think of this?” There was no need to ask what ‘this’ she was referring to.

“Honestly?” he asked her. After she gave him a nod of acceptance, he went on. “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like it?” The queen frowned. “Why don’t you?”

“I’ll admit,” he said, rubbing his chin. “When I first got on that list of yours, I was fairly confident that you had the wrong man. This…” He floundered; he did not want to admit this to himself, little alone others! “This changes everything. I’m faced with the dilemma that I might actually be your son.”

“And is there a problem with that?” the queen wanted to know. Under her stern eyes, he had to plow on.

“In many ways, yes. You should understand, I’ve worked hard to get to where I am. Now suddenly I might not be able to do the job I was trained to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sona asked, frowning at him. “You’re the current Alex, the best field spy Aeterna has right now. Why shouldn’t you go on with your job?”

“Oh,” Abigail said softly, her eyes softening as she watched him. “You mean that order this morning that Suit put out. All princes are to be kept under watch and protected if needed.”

“My job is dangerous,” he pointed out. “That order affectively has taken me out of action.”

Sona snorted. “Suit can’t possibly mean to take you out of the service.”

“I’m on that list. And that order applies to all those names. If I remember correctly, I’m on top of that list.”

“That is a problem,” the queen mused. Martin nearly breathed out a sigh of relief as she finally took her intense eyes from him. “I will have to talk to Suit about this matter. Sona, do you have any more need of Martin’s services?”

The young woman blushed. “No.” Martin gave her a confusing look; her voice almost sounded higher than normal. The color in her cheeks deepened.

“Very well.” Queen Abigail turned to him. “You are dismissed.” He bowed and opened the door. “Oh, and Martin?”

“Yes?”

The queen smiled at him; he was surprised by how warm it was. “Thank you. You’ve done your country a great service.”

He bowed again and left. Frowning, he made his way to the weapons field for a long, much needed, workout. “A great service?” He was holding things from them. “No, Your Majesty, I’m not.

“I’m lying.”
***********
Martin laid down his pencil and rubbed his forehead, looking down at his paperwork. As Suit had suggested, he was creating personas to use. Though disguises were his specialty, he was having problems with these. He had no idea how long he would have to live without his reflection, so any persona he used had to be simple enough to put on without it. Fake scars, warts, or other such features were now beyond his capability.

“I’m just going to have to use other disguises,” he concluded. Wigs he could put on just fine, glasses were easy, a change of clothes could change a character, and accents could throw someone off. “Besides,” he thought bitterly, “I can fade into any crowd.” Perhaps that is what the pirates had in mind when they changed his face.

“Wait,” Martin muttered, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know that.” He still needed more proof. Sighing, he picked his pencil back up and kept creating personas.

Someone stood in the doorway. Martin suppressed another sigh. There was no need to look up to see who it was.

“I heard you got back,” Princess Sara said. Martin finally looked up. Sometime while he was gone the princess had taken to wearing the Standards, a simple skirt and cotton blouse, although her hair was still in the current fashion of long bangs covering one of her eyes.

“And what else have you heard?” he asked as she entered the room and sat at his table.

“Your face looks better,” she noted, propping her elbows on the table and placing her chin on top of her hands. She stared at him for a moment, assessing his healing black eye and split lip. “Why is Terk a high general in the Venter army when he’s a known mad man?”

Martin shrugged. “It’s because he’s the Venter King’s cousin. He’s a powerful duke with land and old money. And besides that, the Mad General is brilliant. He just has trouble keeping his temper.”

Sara snorted softly. Casually reaching across the table, she picked up one of the personas he was working. “What are you doing anyway?”

“Just coming up with new characters,” he replied, sighing as he looked over the paperwork. “It’s standard for spies to have ready characters.” He took the paper. “Now, my question. What are you doing here?”

The princess scrunched her face. “I can only take so much of the library.” Martin tried to suppress his laugh, but couldn’t. “What?” she asked, frowning. “It’s not exciting.”

“But you’re supposed to be helping there,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she waved off. “I just needed a break.”

“And you came to annoy me instead?”

Sara laughed. “If you’re my brother, I have thirteen years of teasing to catch up on.” Martin snorted and began writing again. The princess watched for a minute before the silence bugged her.

“What character are you creating now?”

“Well,” he said, picking the paper up and looked at it. “One of my main personas.”

“And what’s he like?”

Martin dropped the paper and met the princess’s questioning look. “Why do you want to know?” She just shrugged. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “His name is David Taylor. The average Aeternan farmer. Has a secret desire to see the world, but he feels he has an obligation to his family and stays where he is at.”

“Does he look like you?” the princess asked.

He smiled weakly. “A bit. Oh, he has red hair and glasses, but other than that, we could be twins.”

“Red hair?” She frowned. “What about when you grow a beard?”

“I don’t plan growing one,” he snorted softly. “What’s with all the questions?”

It was Sara’s turn to shrug. “I’m going to know all my possible brothers. You, Dinny, and Matt are the only ones accessible to me right now. And to tell you the truth, you’re a lot more interesting than them.”

Martin groaned, rubbing his head again. “Really?”

She sat up and gave him a happy nod. “Yes, you are.”

“Does that mean you’re going to bug me all the time now?”

The princess laughed. “No! Just until there are more ‘brothers’ for me to talk to!”

Martin sighed, slumping down in his chair. There’s another complication in his life.
**********
“Hey,” General Sanders said, waving at him, “are you listening to me?”

Fred Chief jolted back to the present. He was at one of the Aeternan camps in the command tent. He sat at the conference table across from the general in charge of the camp. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “But I arrived late last night and you wanted to talk to me first thing this morning.”

The Aeternan general sighed, sinking down. “I’m sorry, but I really need to talk to you.”

“So your letter said,” Fred grumbled. “What’s this about? I have my Ghosts to get back to.” The Ghost General suspected that Terk had gotten word of the prince; the Venter attacks have been more fierce than usual.

“Suit’s pulled my spy.”

It took a moment for the statement to register. Fred sat forward. “What do you mean? Suit pulled your spy?”

“Just that,” Sanders explained. “I got a letter about three weeks back from our Spy Master. He didn’t explain why, just told me to send him back to the Tree. Chief, what is going on?”

Fred scratched his chin. “I can’t tell you yet what has been happening,” he admitted. “But I’ll go talk to Suit.” General Sanders breathed a sigh of relief Fred could not share. One of the last things he wanted to do was to talk with the prideful old man. But he promised. Grumbling, he said his goodbyes and left.
********
Martin was surprised to see Fred stomp into the room, his limp more distinct than before. He raised an eyebrow. “And what’s got you in foul mood?”

“Is Suit in?” he grumbled. Martin looked towards the Spy Master’s door. Suit’s regular secretary was on break, and since he had nothing better to do, he sat in Robby’s place. Now he wished he hadn’t. Good rarely happened when both the Ghost Commander and the Spy Master met in bad moods.

“He is,” he answered reluctantly. “But I think you should come back in a couple of days.”

“Why?” Chief asked with a frown. “What’s happened now? And why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on some sort of mission or other right now? What’s Suit got you stuck here for?”

Martin grimaced. Fred was proud of him; he always took it as a personal insult when he was doing nothing to use his talents. “Terk saw my face a few weeks back,” he admitted, scribbling absently on one of the reports he was reviewing. “I’ve got to wait a few more weeks until the Mad General’s memory fades before heading back out.”

Chief’s face grew dark. “Why did he see your face in the first place?” Martin sighed, but repeated the same story he already told Luke, Thomas, Suit, Ander, Sona, Queen Abigail, and even Princess Sara. The young heir was growing attached to him; something he wasn’t too sure he wanted.

“I wrote out a report, why can’t they all just read it and leave me alone?”

After he finished his explanation, Fred sat down hard on one of the waiting chairs, tugging madly at his beard. “That prince,” he muttered under his breath. “It just all comes back to him, now doesn’t it? What am I going to do about him?” Martin frowned at that last part. Why would Chief be concerned about dealing with the prince? He shuttered. Was Chief going to sever ties with him if he ever learned about Martin’s suspicions?

“Queen Abigail and Suit are doing everything they can to find him,” he pointed out to the Ghost Commander.

“I know,” Chief said darkly. “That’s why I’m here.” He glared at Suit’s door. “Well, I won’t get any work done if I wait for both of us to cool down. If I might make a suggestion, I’d stand outside in the hall and warn others. This might come to… blows.”

Martin whistled softly. Although Suit and Chief had some different views, they always worked together to meet a satisfying end. Whatever this was going to be about, it was likely going to put the men at each other’s throats before they agreed to anything.

“I might just do that.” He tried not to dart for the door.
*******
“You want what?” Suit bellowed. He shot to his feet, his chair falling back in the process. Chief had remained standing when he entered the office; he had wanted his extra few inches on Suit so he could tower over the man with his demand.

“You heard me,” he snapped, beating his finger hard on Suit’s desk. “Our armies need their assigned spies! I don’t know why you’ve pulled them in the first place, but I’m going to put them back, by force if necessary!”

“But we need those spies here!” Suit took three long steps to come around his desk to face him. He bristled with anger. “Our number one priority should be finding the prince! I’m surprised you’re not agreeing with me.”

Chief stiffened. Some people called him harsh when he gave orders that involved leaving someone behind, and it did hurt him deeply when he had given them, but he learned years before the meaning of being a leader. Making the unpopular decisions because they were for the good of the most people, not because he could save a few.

“I know that any organization falls if they focus on one thing,” he growled, trying to stand taller. His knee protested loudly but he ignored it. This was too important to give in to small pains. “We need different people to do different things! We need to keep our eyes out for everything!”

“I know that,” Suit snapped. “Believe me, I do. But the queen wants every available spy on our suspected princes. I’ve had to get them from somewhere. There are still spies in our enemy’s camps. Just not in some of our own!”

“So our spies playing the enemy could risk their lives trying to pass on information to our armies?” Chief wanted to sit down; his headache had gotten worse, his knee felt as if it were about to tear again, and he was tired from riding all night to get here. “Suit, those spies were important!”

“So is the prince.” Suit folded his arms across his chest, looking smug. He was going to try playing that card, was he?

“Yes,” Chief agreed, forcing himself to smile. “He is important. But I think he’s safest now than he’s ever been.” Suit frowned at that. Fred silently thanked Martin for the argument. “No one can find him if they don’t know who he is, can they? The prince is safest with no one knowing who he is. For all you know, he doesn’t know himself. He isn’t about to go put himself in danger if he’s just living his ordinary life.”

“That may be the case for some,” Suit replied, his scowl deepening. “But what about Martin? He’s on the List, you know. He’s always putting himself in danger. Shouldn’t it be better that he stays here?”

Chief wanted to shiver. Yes, what about Martin? He wasn’t some faceless orphan to him, but practically his own child; he had seen everything the young man has done to get everything he’s owned. He was proud of him. Now, the young spy he had taken in years ago was being robbed of the chance of doing what he loved to do.

“You know as well as I do that Martin can’t just sit around and do nothing,” he finally answered with a huff. “He needs to be engaged in something before he goes nuts. Holding him here is possibly the second worst thing you could do.”

“He’s under my command,” Suit pointed out, smiling smugly. “Martin stays here and I’ll try to get some spies back out to our armies.”

Chief wanted to smack the grin off the Spy Master’s face. He had no right to hold Martin against his will. “Fine,” he finally snapped, fed up with it all. He stomped out of the office, pointedly ignoring Suit’s evil grin at an argument won.

“We’ll see who won,” he thought bitterly, slamming his door. He burst out into the hall, startling Martin. The young man had been leaning against the wall and was no doubt listening in on the argument.

“Too bad,” he started to say when Chief clamped his hand on the young man’s mouth.

“Pack your bags, my boy,” Chief said, finally grinning. “You’ve mentioned how we haven’t had much time together since the war started. It’s time both of us took a vacation.” He removed his hand from Martin’s mouth. The young spy looked thoughtful.

“We’ll be keeping to that story?” he asked, his mischievous eyes matching his own.

“Of course. Go, I’ll turn in your request.”
**********
“Now where are you going?” Luke asked, leaning against the doorframe to his room. Martin wanted to roll his eyes as he packed. He had hoped to get away before his friends could talk him out of it.

“Vacation,” he said, snapping his pack up and shouldering it. “I haven’t been on one in a couple years.”

“Well,” his tall friend snorted, “of course you haven’t. We’re at war. I believe it was you who said working against the Mad General was more fun than any vacation.”

“Ah,” he pointed out, slipping past Luke into the hallway, “but that’s only if I’m alone. Fred invited me along for his vacation.”

“Fred?” Luke repeated. He stood there a moment, considering the implications. “Wait…” Sprinting, he caught up with him and glared. “Don’t tell me Fred’s asked you to do something dangerous.”

“Fine,” Martin answered, smirking. “I won’t tell you that Fred’s asked me to do something dangerous.” He laughed at the shocked look on Luke’s face and continued making his way to the stables. However, his tall friend caught up with him again.

“Don’t you remember the conversation we had a couple weeks back?” Luke growled. “You’ve got to stop putting yourself in dangerous positions.”

This time Martin rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he snapped. “And I seemed to remember telling you off last time as well. Now, if you don’t have anything better to tell me off with… Hey!” Luke grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the door to the stable. “What are you doing?”

“How about looking in the stable before waltzing in,” Luke whispered. Curious, Martin peeked around the frame, Luke peeking above him.

The queen was talking with Suit while the princess talked with Sona. They seemed to be waiting for something.

“What do you think this is about?” Luke muttered.

Martin examined the scene again, frowning. The queen was dressed in the same riding clothes she was the day she arrived and bags were gathered behind her. “I think Her Majesty is leaving,” he muttered back. “She’s stayed here too long already.”

“Leaving us with Royal Pain there,” Luke groaned. “Great.”

“Hey,” he said, glaring up at him, “at least she hasn’t taken to following you around.”

Four riders with five horses joined the small farewell party. The guards bowed respectfully to the queen and princess. After the introductions were given, Queen Abigail said her good byes. The words were short with Suit and a long conversation with Sona. Then she reached her daughter. Though the princess tried to act as if she couldn’t care less that her mother was leaving, Sara did look a bit down.

“I’d hate to be raised as royalty,” Luke whispered. “Always being pushed aside for the kingdom.”

Martin didn’t reply. At least she knew her parents and that they did love her. He grew up always being pushed aside, always for no reason other than being alone. Even when he started his training as a spy, he felt the distrust of others.

After the goodbyes, Queen Abigail mounted her horse and left. Suit lingered only to see her through the gate before marching back to his office. Sona and Sara stayed until after the gate was closed then wandered back together.

“I wonder why Her Majesty didn’t announce that she was leaving,” Thomas said, joining them at the door. Luke jumped but Martin continued to watch the stable to make sure no one returned.

“Who knows,” Luke grumbled. “But she’s not the only one leaving without telling anyone.”

Thomas noticed the pack Martin shouldered. “So, it does seem he’s going. What’s the problem with that?”

Luke threw his hands up. “I give up on you two!”

Martin and Thomas shared a look. “Perhaps a vacation wouldn’t do you bad either,” Thomas suggested. The response was only another glare.

“There’s Fred,” Martin said, spotting the Ghost General across the stable. Ignoring his arguing friends, he entered the stable and crossed over to Chief.

“Any idea why the queen left?” Fred asked as he approached.

He shrugged. “She needed to get back to Nacre, I suppose. The kingdom needs her there.”

“Yes,” Fred sighed, “The kingdom takes precedence.” Martin frowned. It was a line he expected from nobility. “But,” he went on, “we are off for vacation. Got everything?”

“He can pack everything he needs in that pack,” Luke said, joining them. “Of course he has it.”

“Luke’s bitter,” Thomas explained to Chief. “He wants to go on vacation as well.”

Chief laughed. “Sorry, Ander. If I remember correctly, you got in trouble again.”

Luke stared down at his feet, trying to pass for an image of innocence. “It was getting a bit too boring. A little distraction, I thought, would loosen everyone up.”

“All it earned him is working in the records with Sona,” Martin laughed. “Imagine, he has to spend the next two weeks pulling records out only to put them back.”

“Useless,” Luke spat. “I hate feeling useless.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Fred assured him. “Now, we’ve got to be going.” Saying goodbye to his friends, Martin mounted the horse Fred had ready for him and followed him out the gate.
********
The town of Firth was the closest town of suitable size to the Tree. It could also be called the closest thing to a spying town. About half the people of Firth knew at least one spy, though most knew more. Martin liked the town; these people knew enough Tree gossip to talk about. Though, he did hope they had yet to hear about the prince.

Riding on the outer muddy streets, they headed for an inn known as the Sky Lark. The inn was often used for a relay station for the Tree. Found just off of the main streets, just short of the paved ones, the Sky Lark had the look of a well used building. Three stories tall and mud spattered siding; Martin had yet to find a cozier place.

As they approached the inn, a large dark skinned man was throwing out a bucket full of dirty water. As they approached, Martin could see more of Ben Lark, the owner of the inn. His bulk was mostly made of fat, though his arms were muscular. Martin always thought Ben should shave his thinning black hair; he would look good bald. Shading his eyes with a large hand, he glanced up to them as they rode up.

“Well, look who’s finally come to my humble inn,” Ben said, flashing his white teeth. “Fred Chief and the Alex.” Well, news of his promotion had reached them.

“Hello, Ben,” Chief said, dismounting and shaking the man’s hand. Two of Ben’s assistants came out and took care of their horses. “It’s nice to see you.” Martin also shook hands. Ushering them inside, Ben went into a back room. They helped themselves to a table as Ben came out with some drinks. The one he put in front of Martin was water.

“Aren’t you old enough to have something stronger?” Chief asked, sipping at his drink.

“I don’t like the taste of liquor,” he muttered. It was the truth; something about it made his stomach sick each time he had it.

“Maybe some day you’ll grow to like it,” Ben chuckled, sitting down across from them. “So tell me, why is our Ghost Commander and current Alex doing outside the Tree together?”

“Vacation,” Chief explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve had one.”

“And you’re sticking to that story?” Ben asked, sipping at his mug. His eyes told them that he did not believe the story.

“Yep.”

Ben chuckled again. “Martin, someday you’re going to get in trouble for interrupting orders.”

Martin shrugged. “It’s kept me alive so far.”

“Speaking of keeping alive,” Chief said, a smile creeping onto his face. “Did my package come yet, Ben?”

“As a matter of fact, it did.” The inn keeper returned the smile and stood. “Follow me.” Martin followed Ben as he led the way to the stables, frowning at the Ghost General.

“What is this package?” he asked. Chief pulled him aside.

“Martin,” he said, putting his hands on his shoulder, “I’m afraid that I haven’t been there for you these last couple of years.”

“There’s a war going on,” Martin pointed out. “And I’m a legal adult. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Chief half smiled. “But you’re still important to me. And, as much as I hate saying this, Suit and the others are right. You need to be more careful. So, I got you something to help keep you safe.”

Martin wanted to frown. “What is it?”

Chief whistled loudly. Ben found them, leading a gray horse behind him. “Here you go,” Fred said, taking the reigns and handing it to him. “He’s all yours.”

Martin was speechless as he took the reigns. Immediately, he began to examine the horse, feeling along the stallion’s legs, checking his teeth, eyes, and ears. “He’s great,” he told Chief after his examination. “But I can’t accept him. He’s worth too much.”

The Ghost General chuckled. “I thought you would say that. You’ve never been able to accept anything. Think of it as your payment for doing me a favor during your vacation.”

“But…” he started to say, holding the reigns out.

“It’s an early payment,” Chief cut him off, refusing the reigns. “But I think it’s worth it. You need a mount of your own.”

Martin stared at him, then smiled. Fred knew him well enough. He could accept the excuse. He patted the horse’s nose fondly.

“What you going to name him?” Ben asked. The inn keeper had a smile to match Chief’s.

His answer was immediate. “Rowan.” The name came from his favorite book character; a faithful companion of a reckless adventurer.

“An appropriate name.” Chief stroked the stallion’s neck. “He’s an elven breed. Since you are now his owner, he will know where you are. And if you ever need him, he will come at your whistle.”

Martin jumped at the news. “But elves rarely ever let their horses go.” The Ghost Commander grinned.

“I do have some influence in this world. Enough of this. Should we go for a ride before I send you off?”

Martin matched Chief’s grin and began saddling his Rowan.
**********
Transitions between adventures always seem awkward to me. Thankfully, those transitions don't last long. Now for that last bit of news I promised. This is the second to last post of NaNoWriMo. Next week we'll have reached 50,000 words. Things will get interesting after next week's post. You'll be venturing into my un-edited, freshly written works. After the NaNoWriMo challange, I took a break from writing to focus on school work, then I started this blog, so nothing new has been written. You have been warned.

However, I would like to thank everyone who has been reading and been giving me great feedback. I've been working on Martin's story since I was fifteen and have always been afraid to let people know of this hobby of mine. That's why the book never got all that far (I'd keep scrapping everything and start over). It's because of you readers that I'm now moving forward with the story. Thank you so much for motivating me to the next adventure. Until next week, enjoy the journey!

Escape from Pinewood

I'm having a block on intro. Hum. On with the story then. Last time we got to meet General Terk, the Mad General of Venter. Martin has been caught as a spy. Intro done, let the escape begin!
********
“By the Seven Founders,” Luke swore, glaring at Fort Pinewood from across the canyon. “We’re too late!” Behind him, Thomas leaned against a tree, trying to cover his yawn.

“So what?” he asked, glancing to the setting sun. “Martin is probably fine.”

Luke threw his friend a fierce glare which Thomas ignored. “If he’s fine,” he snapped, “why did Suit send us after him when we got back to the Tree?”

Thomas shrugged. “This is Martin’s first mission as Alex. Suit needs him to act like the Alex and he can’t do that if someone is always looking over his shoulder. The only reason why we’re here is just in case he needs help getting out. After all, we are talking about the Mad General of Venter.”

“Yes we are,” Luke growled. “And that’s exactly why he shouldn’t have gone in there.”

“Oh, shut it, Luke,” Thomas said, almost close to snapping. “Martin is fine.” Luke shut up. The tone Thomas used was rare; he only used it when he had heard enough of something.

Luke looked down again at Fort Pinewood. Everyone was too lax about letting Martin do these dangerous things. He did agree that Martin shouldn’t just stop his life because he might be the prince, but he had to be more careful just in case he was.

“Why am I the only one to realize it?” Luke wondered, and not for the first time. Both his friends were acting as if the discovery of the prince meant nothing to them, Suit only wanted his Alex out in the field. The only ones serious about finding the prince were the queen, the princess, Sona, and her team. But they weren’t the ones who knew about Martin and his lucky glove.

Luke didn’t know why he believed more strongly about Martin being the prince. Perhaps it was because he always thought his friend was more than he seemed. He claimed he was a kid off the streets, but he had walked with a confidence not found on the streets.

And then there were the clues. After Martin had mentioned his nightmares with a wrong reflection, Luke thought back to all the times something strange happened around Martin. He knew when things would happen, he knew when others were coming, he could tell if someone was lying to him, he could judge what a person was like when he just met them. There were clues; everyone just seemed to ignore them.

“But I can’t tell anyone,” he thought bitterly. He promised Martin he wouldn’t say anything and he would keep that promise.

“You’d better be safe, Martin,” he muttered, watching as the sun rays left the face of the fort. “We can’t loose you, not when we just found you.”
********
Martin hit the back wall hard and fell to the ground. He gritted his teeth against the pain. He wouldn’t cry out and give them the satisfaction of hearing it. Using his hands to push himself up to his knees, he glared at the soldiers who threw him into the stone cell. They had stripped him of his fat costume and forced him to wear an old faded Venter uniform. It was wet from the water they dumped on him to wash off the rest of his disguise.

General Terk shoved past the guards at the door, crossed the small cell, and kicked Martin in the stomach. The spy gasped out, curling up with pain.

“Now,” the Mad General said, holding his head high to look down his long nose at him. “You’re going to tell me why you’re here.”

“I thought you would have figured it out,” he gasped. Leaning back against the wall, he glared up at the general.

“Ah, yes,” Terk smirked. “The prince. It’s about time your government discovered he wasn’t dead. It took them long enough.”

Martin wiped the water from his eyes. “So, you knew he was alive. Why didn’t you blackmail the Santers?”

“You’re obviously a good spy,” Terk went on, pacing across the cell, “or else you wouldn’t be here trying to get information from me. How about a fair trade, Hendricks? You answer my questions, I’ll answer yours.”

Martin considered the offer. It was the reason why he was there, an exchange of information. “Who goes first?”

“I will.” The general squatted down to meet his eyes. “When was it discovered about your prince?”

“About three weeks ago,” he answered, wondering why Terk was so interested in knowing.

“Ah,” the mad man muttered. “About two weeks after the Inhibitor went missing. So, they didn’t know what it was…” Martin listened to his ramblings, trying to understand what he was thinking. Terk suddenly stood and continued to stare down at him. “Your turn, spy.”

“Do you know where the prince is?” he immediately asked. Using the wall, he managed to stand. “From your words, I’m guessing that you have no control over him, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me when we found out he was alive.”

Terk whipped around and grabbed Martin by the hair. The spy tired to twist out of his grasp, but the mad man only yanked harder. Martin clenched his jaw against the pain.

“Now, listen here, spy,” Terk spat. “No, I don’t know where the royal brat is. The pirates I paid to take him double crossed me. They took him on another ship and my stupid ship captain forgot to ask the pirates which ship before he killed them. Now, my turn.” He released Martin’s hair, throwing him against the wall.

“How was he discovered?”

“I wasn’t told,” Martin lied. The Mad General rounded on him, hitting him across the face. Martin staggered but remained standing. He refused to show weakness, even to rub his face where he got hit.

“You must have!” Terk yelled. “They don’t send spies out without telling them anything! Why else were you to ask me about that brat!”

“I was just told the questions,” Martin replied, the stinging in his cheek bringing tears to his eyes. “Nothing about why such inquires should be made.”

“Liar!” Terk accused, slapping him across the face again. This time, Martin found himself on the floor. Wiping his mouth, Martin saw the blood on his hand. Standing back up, he once again faced Terk.

“Our questions are done,” the mad man spat. He turned on his heel and walked out of the cell. Glancing back to him, Terk smiled. “I have a few things to attend to. But I will be back. And it will be up to you to decide on how much pain I’m going to have to give you before you answer all my questions.”

The door slammed shut and the sound of the heavy bolt grated into place. Martin wiped the rest of the blood from his lip. He strolled to the door, glanced out of the barred window, and saw two soldiers stand at either side of his door. Turning his back to them, he glanced around his stone cell. As like the rest of the fort, this room was hewed from the cliff. The only things not attached to the fort were the straw piled in one corner and a bucket in the other. There wasn’t even a lantern hanging from the ceiling.

“Alright,” Martin thought, considering what he had, “how to escape?” He didn’t know how long Terk’s other business would take, anything he did had to be soon. There were only two things between him and his escape. A locked door and two soldiers. He allowed himself a small smile. He only needed the guards to open the door for him.

Walking over to the bucket, he picked it up and held it close to his chest, making sure the guards wouldn’t see it when he began his acting. “Oh!” he moaned, bending over, pretending to clench his stomach. “Oh!”

“Hey!” one of the guards snapped from the other side, “keep quiet in there!”

“I think I ate something funny,” Martin groaned. Faking a faint, he fell to the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard the two guards swear and the fumbling of the bolt. Listening carefully as the two guards come to investigate him, he waited until they were at him before attacking.

Swinging the bucket from underneath him, Martin hit both guards in the head. They stumbled back, stunned. Wasting no time, the spy jumped up and hit the nerves in the soldiers’ necks. They dropped to his sides.

“Idiots,” he thought, leaving them in his cell and locking the door behind him. “Never just approach a spy.”

Martin’s first task outside his cell was simple. Find a change of clothes. Of course, he could have taken a set from one of the men he had knocked out, but then they would know what to look for. No, he needed something no one would miss or complain about losing for a few days.

Wherever there is a large group of people, there has to be someplace to do the laundry. He snuck in the darkened washroom, many of the workers were done for the day. He smiled smugly to see the suits left out to dry overnight. Picking one with captain stripes, he quickly changed from the faded blood stained uniform. “Now to cover my face…” His hair was dark enough to pass as Venterian, but his lip was spit and he was fairly certain he had a black eye. He picked a typical soldier cap, its wide front brim perfect for casting his features into shadow.

Pulling down on the coat, he steeled himself. A quick peek from behind the door, he slipped out, sure that no one was going to see him. Now that he could move somewhat freely in the fort, he was faced with a dilemma. The point of the mission was to find out if Terk had any more information relating to the prince. But now Terk knew he had a spy in his ranks. Security would have been tightened. It would make his escape hard enough, little alone finding the answers he was sent to get.

“It doesn’t matter.” He had orders and he never failed to fulfill those orders. Now would not be any different. “So,” he wondered, walking slowly down the hall. “What can I do?” He could let himself get captured again, hope someone lets something slip while he was being tortured, then escape again.

“If I’m getting out of this place,” he reasoned, glancing around the mountain fort. “Then I’m going to need all the strength I have.” But what could he do? He could not just float around for much longer. Someone was going to notice his black eye and split lip and call the alarm. He gritted his teeth. He needed more time.

“There’s not much I can do about my face, but I can do something about other’s faces…” Smiling slyly, he made his way to the soldier’s mess.

It was still early enough in the evening for soldiers to be eating. “Not to mention drinking.” Martin wrinkled his nose as he entered one of the rowdy dinning halls. It was filled with smoke and smelled of tobacco and drink. None of those habits had ever appealed to him. He had seen enough of that on the streets.

Picking a spot near the center, he sat down with an exaggerated groan. The soldiers on either side of him eyed him suspiciously.

“And what happened to you?” the man across from him grunted.

“Ever been on the wrong side of a husband?” he asked, picking up a cold drink and gingerly putting it on his split lip.

“Yeah,” another soldier replied. Slumping forward, he scowled at his plate. “The officers always get what they want. The good food, the good wine, the fine women. There are only so many women here and they are all promised to high officers. Then we get beaten if we get caught with them.” The soldier suddenly sighed wistfully. “But it’s worth it.”

“Speak for yourself,” the Venterian said to his left. He pounded the table with a fist. “The officers deserve those girls!”

“Of course you think that, Larry,” snapped the soldier on his other side. “You’ve been sucking up to them. You’d think they’ll let a low life like you into their ranks? Start acting your place.”

“I have not been sucking up!”

“Have to!”

Larry pushed from the table, knocking the bench out from under all of them. He stood with a quivering finger at his accuser. “I’ll get that promotion and all the privileges that go with it! So you might as well start sucking up to me now!”

“Like hell I will!” The soldier jumped to his feet and swung a fist, hitting Larry on the nose. Martin ducted under the table as the fight broke out around him, glad they were beating each other up and not him. He grinned at the flaying feet; his beat up face would not stand out now.

A sharp whistle could be heard over the fighting, but no one paid it attention. It took three more whistles and another group of soldiers to break it up. Martin finally crawled out from beneath the table. He stood at attention as a cornel inspected the men.

“Who started this?” he ordered to know.

“Sergeant Phil and Captain Larry, sir,” someone ratted.

“You mean Private Phil and Private Larry,” the cornel snapped. He turned to the two men, glaring. “You two, come with me. The rest of you, go to your assigned commanders and have him give you your punishments. Well, get going!”

Bowing with the rest, Martin hurried with the crowd. As soon as men started off in different directions, he also veered off, careful that no one went with him.

“Now, if I remember correctly, the offices are found on the same floor as that first conference room.” Unfortunately, there were at least a dozen of those offices. He sighed, resigning himself to spending the rest of the night searching. He froze when a door ahead of him opened. Looking around, he ducked into a small shadowed niche, hoping they did not pass him.

“It’s about time they discovered that prince of theirs,” Terk grumbled, closing his office door behind one of his aids. Martin forced his breathing to slow; he could not be caught!

“Do you suppose they have him?” the aid asked, walking away from Martin’s hiding spot.

“Not likely,” the Mad General grunted. “If they had, they wouldn’t have sent that spy here to ask questions. But they have to know something. Come, I want to break that spy.” The two men turned the corner, but Martin didn’t move until he was sure they would not come back.

“It won’t take them long to realize I’ve escaped. I’ve got to get that info and get out!” Feeling he had waited as long as he dared, he sprinted to the office door. He grumbled under his breath to discover it was locked. If he had his other clothes, he could have picked the lock but he did not have time to go looking for his picks. That left him with one option.

Martin slammed his shoulder on the door, pain searing at impact. Gritting his teeth, he threw himself at the door three more times before it broke off its hinges. He grimaced at the crash, hoping no one heard it.

The office inside was different from Suit’s functional one. Shields and weapons decorated the walls instead of booked shelves. Chests were stacked one on top of others, each chest marked with something in Venterian. Martin quickly read through the labels, hoping one would stick out.

“Weapons,” he muttered, running his fingers down one row of chests then the other, “officers, promotions, food supplies, tents, movements, intelligence.” His fingers itched to open that particular box, but time was short. He had to know what Terk knew about the prince. “Lands, funds, blackmail…” Martin paused; the Mad General was known for using that particular bad habit; both during war and peace. If Terk had known anything about the prince, he would have no doubt tried to blackmail the Santers before giving them anything.

Taking it down from the top, Martin placed it down on the desk. Thankfully, the chests were not locked. Opening it, he saw it filled with papers. He browsed through the files, hoping something would pop out.

Prince Henry

Martin stared, surprised to have found it easily. He pulled the thick folder out and about opened it when the alarm was sound. “Time to leave,” he thought, stuffing the folder under his coat. He grimaced again as he jumped over the broken door; they were going to know where he had been. “No use pouting over it.” He had to get out.

He ran down the hall before anyone could search there. Slowing as he approached the same dinning hall he had stared the fight, he wondered how he could escape. This was Fort Pinewood, hewed from solid stone. Aeternans prided themselves in its engineering. It was said no one could escape.

“What I really need is another distraction,” he concluded. Small distractions he could come up with and implement. Larger ones he needed time and resources, neither he had much of. He jumped slightly to hear the echo of soldiers marching. “Think!” He did not have much time!
**********
Luke looked down at the face of Fort Pinewood, frowning at the sound coming from the stone fort. It was alarm bells.

“Who wants to bet that Martin’s the cause of that?” Thomas asked, glancing up from his nap.

“Of course he’s the cause of it!” Luke grumbled. “He’s a bigger troublemaker than us!”

“But he gets away with it,” his friend pointed out, getting up from where he had been sleeping. “That’s the difference.”

Luke grunted. Martin always seemed to have gotten away with things he and Thomas could not. He did not envy that Martin could, just wished he knew how to do it too. He gave himself a mental kick. Another clue they all missed.

“If that ruckus is really caused by our Alex,” Thomas said, joining him at the cliff side to look down at the fort, “then we’ll need a plan of getting him out.”

“Oh,” Luke answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes, “really? Well, genius, how do you plan to get our friend out? If I remember correctly, all the exits of the fort are guarded by enemy soldiers.”

Thomas rubbed his chin, his face thoughtful. “I don’t think the doors are the only way in or out.”

Luke raised an eyebrow in question. His friend smiled. “There are windows to that fort.”
**********
Martin glanced down the hall where the weapons were stored, cursing his bad luck. He had hoped to find something to help him defend himself or give him something to create a distraction with, but the weapon storage room was guarded. There was not a way to get inside the room without raising the alarm. Glaring at the guards, he turned his back and walked away. There had to be a way out.

The sound of marching boots caused Martin to dodge into an unused room to avoid the approaching soldiers. Listening until they passed, he came out of his hiding place, starting to get frustrated. “If the gate is being guarded and all other exits watched, where can I go?” It was only a matter of time before they found him and the stolen file under his coat.

He stopped when he heard voices.

“But this hall has already been searched,” whined a soldier with a thick Venter accent.

“Check it again!” snapped an officer. “Terk wants that spy found. That means until we find him. Now, go search!”

Martin spun around, looking for another place to hide. “Great,” he muttered as he heard doors slam. They were searching rooms now. They would start from the bottom floor and go up. They were going to force him out.

Wishing there was something up that could help him, he sprinted to the closest stairs and took them two at a time.
************
Luke watched the fort as Thomas rode off to do something. He waited impatiently for his friend to return. The thief had said he brought something to provide a distraction they needed. Whatever it was, he had insisted it be used far from them.

Thomas rode clashing back into the clearing, his horse panting as if they had just out rode the enemy.

“What were you doing?” Luke snapped. Thomas panted hard but about answered when.

Bang!

Luke spun around to see a large plume of smoke just outside the canyon. Below, the Venter soldiers started running for the source.

“There’s Martin’s distraction,” Thomas heaved out. “Now we just need to wait for him to show up at a window.”

Luke picked up his bow, tested the string, then picked up an arrow and notched it. Bringing it up, he looked down the arrow, waiting for Martin to show up.
*********
The loud explosion rung through the stone halls of Pinewood. Martin covered his ears until the sound faded. He started to chuckle as he continued his way up through the fort. There was only one person he could think of who could make a sound that loud. Thomas was outside. And most likely Luke too.

“But how am I going to get out to them?” He found a large window facing the outside, trying to find a clue of where his friends were. They could have been anywhere in the dark canyon.

Zzzzip. Thud!

Martin jumped back as the arrow passed within inches of his face and hit the wall behind him. “Luke,” he muttered darkly, prying the arrow out of the wall. His tall friend was notorious for his aim. Attached to the arrow was a short note.

Attach the rope to something secure.

Martin groaned. They couldn’t be serious! But he untied the rope from the arrow, looking for a secure anchor. Leaning outside the window, he saw a jagged rock from the cliff side that would work. Quickly making a slip knot, he threw the lasso around the rock and tugged. He tugged on the rope to signal his friends he was ready. His answer was another rope slid down to him.

“They are serious,” he muttered. This rope was tied like a harness to keep him from fall from the rope. They expected him to climb up to them. Grumbling under his breath, Martin put the harness on and attached it to the guide rope. He started to climb out of the window when he stopped to glare up at where the rope ended.

“I’m going to get them for this,” he promised darkly. Closing his eyes tight, he grabbed the rope and began crawling his way along the rope above the canyon.
***********
Martin couldn’t say how long he was on the rope. All he remembered of his slow progress was the cold wind whipping at him and the clouded night sky above him. He refused to look down the hundreds of feet below him.

“No!” he ordered himself, stopping along the rope. “Don’t think about the drop!” He hung there for a moment, gathering himself up again, going through all the things he planned to do to his friends for letting him do this. Taking slow but shivering breaths, he opened his eyes and made his way slowly up the rope again. He would rather face the Venterians and the Mad General again than do this!

“Martin!” Thomas said, snapping him out of his focus. “Grab my hand!”

He didn’t even bother looking for Thomas’s hand. He just grabbed and pulled himself up the canyon ledge.

“Ouch!” Thomas cried out, helping him up. His friend pried his hand out from his grasp. “That hurt.”

Martin didn’t answer. Scrambling, he crawled as fast as he could from the edge. Once he felt safe again, he held his knees close to his heaving chest and rested his head on his shivering knees. Taking slow deep breaths, he tried to calm down and ease the headache that came with his climb.

“Martin?” Thomas asked, kneeling next to him. “Are you scared of heights?”

“Scared?” Luke repeated, confused. “You live in a tree. How can you be scared of heights?”

“The fort is under the tree,” Martin snapped, though his voice quivered. “Just, leave me alone for a minute.” He rubbed his face against his knees, trying to block the memory of hanging above the canyon from his mind.

“We don’t have time,” Luke pointed out. “We have got to go. Thomas’s bomb will only distract the Venterians for so long. I’d rather use that time to get away.”

Martin took in a few more deep breaths before nodding. “Alright,” he said, his breath finally returning to normal. “Let’s go.” He managed to get to his own feet, though Thomas did offer a hand to help him up. Looking around, he saw the three horses tied near the tree line.

“Suit sent us after you just in case you needed help,” Luke explained as they untied the horses. “Good thing too, by the looks of things.” He didn’t answer as he mounted the horse they brought for him.

“So,” Thomas said in attempt to change the subject. “Did you learn anything?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Martin grumbled. “Let’s just go.”

Thankfully, his friends didn’t argue.
********
They traveled hard for three days afterwards until they were sure they had managed to escape the searches for them. General Terk may have had Fort Pinewood, but the rest of the land belonged to the average Aeternan. He could not search such a large ground for someone as plain looking as Martin. They stopped at a small farming community and rented rooms in its single inn. After they stashed their things into their rooms, the three friends staggered into the common room and sat themselves down at one of the tables away from everyone else

“So?” Luke asked in a whisper, bending forward. “What did you find out?”

“Besides that Terk was behind the kidnapping?” Martin asked, picking at his new clothes. The first chance he got, he stole more laundry to change out of his stolen Venter ones. He glanced around the room; no one was paying attention to them. Oh, the girl serving the tables kept stealing interested looks at Luke, but she stayed away. Either way, he kept an eye out for trouble.

“Martin,” Thomas moaned. “Terk must have said something.”

“Terk knew the prince was alive,” he told his friends, “and he had a file tucked away in his office about the prince.” His two friends perked up at that.

“Did you memorize what was in it?” Thomas asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Martin snorted. Thomas always thought about doing things the hard way. “Why when I could just steal it?” He pulled the file from his bag; he never felt comfortable leaving his things laying around with other people around. “I haven’t got a chance to look through it though.”

“Then let’s have a look.” Luke yanked the folder out of his hands. Opening it, he quickly read through the pages. Martin would have thought it would have been a thicker file, it was after all about the prince. But then he reasoned that it should not be a thick as it was. If Terk really had the prince, he only had the heir for a short time.

“Interesting,” Luke muttered as his eyes skimmed the pages. “Things we know… Terk was the one who ordered the prince’s kidnapping… Paid pirates to do it… The pirates did double cross… Lost the prince…” He whistled softly. “Wow. It looks like the Mad General was planning on kidnapping his Highness six months before the war was even over.”

“That would suggest that Terk was going to take the prince,” Thomas mused, running his hands through his messy black hair. “It had nothing to do at all about the war being over.” Martin agreed with a nod. They already suspected Terk had taken the prince for another matter.

“By the Seven Founders!” Luke cursed loudly.

“What is it?” he asked, frowning. His tall friend looked up from the file with a disturbed expression.

“Terk ordered that the prince’s appearance be magically changed,” he told them, though his eyes were locked on Martin. “Permanently changed. The orders were ‘his own mother should not recognize him.’”

Their table fell silent as the words sunk in. Martin felt numb. He remembered his questions back at the fort, about if he had actually been looking at the wrong face all his life. The revelation was troubling.

“Martin,” Luke whispered. “This is serious. Your face has been changed, this file proves it. You’ve got to tell the queen the truth.”

“We don’t know enough,” he almost snapped. “Does the file even mention what the prince was changed to look like?”

“No.”

“Then we can’t prove that I’m the prince. We need more proof.”

“Proof?” Luke snorted. He dropped his head low, his eyes glaring. “Martin, you’re the one who’s been having dreams of wrong reflections. It was your glove. What more proof could you need?”

“How about why the kidnapping took place?” he asked, glaring back. “What could a two year old prince have that Terk would take the pains to kidnap him? We’ve all agreed there is something we’re missing. And until we know what that something is, I’m not telling anyone anything.”

“And I suppose,” Thomas said, his the only voice calm, “that you would like us to keep our promise and keep quiet?”

Martin met Luke’s disapproving gaze. “Yes.”
*******
The moment Martin’s eyes closed, he found himself standing in front of the mirror again. He wanted to groan. When were these dreams going to end?

The image in the mirror was thumbing through the same file he had stolen from Fort Pinewood. “Amazing, isn’t it?” the wrong reflection asked. “Terk ordered your face changed so that your mother couldn’t recognize you.” He looked up smugly. “And yet you doubt that you’re the prince? Your friend Luke knows who you are; why can’t you?”

Martin scowled but did not answer. The image went on for him.

“You’ve worked for your whole life to convince people you were a someone. You didn’t want others to see you as an orphan. You wanted them to see a successful young man. You’ve earned the respect and honor of your superiors, no one sees you as unfortunate. In all reality, your life was complete.”

“But then this happens,” Martin snapped, shaking a finger at the folder. “Just when I think my life couldn’t get any better, this has to happen! Now I’m not sure if I am who I thought I was.”

“But you know who you are.” The wrong reflection threw the folder away and it puffed into smoke. “Why do you fight yourself? You are the prince.”

Martin snorted. “The prince? After all I’ve ever worked for, after everything I’ve achieved, you expect me to just accept it like that?”

The image frowned. “I guess you’re right. You’ve never been able to just accept things. Alright then, you’ll work for your answers. I’ll say my sorrys now. You’re going to wish you had just accepted the truth.” He faded from the mirror.

Martin was left staring at a blank mirror, confused. Why was there no reflection now? What could this mean? “It’s time to create your own image,” his own voice said. “Just remember, Martin Santer, this is what you wanted.”
********
“Hey,” Thomas said, shaking him awake. “We should get ready to go.”

“What time is it?” Martin mumbled as he dragged himself out of the covers.

“Before sunrise,” Luke answered. The tall spy pulled something from his pack at threw it at him. “Enough time for you to shave,” he teased as he saw the razor. “Looks like you’ll need it.” Martin felt his chin; the stubble was starting to get itchy.

“I’ll do that.” He walked to the wash stand and froze. The mirror was not showing his reflection. His hand flew to his face, the stubble was there and so was his face, but why did the mirror not show him?

“He said I’m to create my own image.” Martin started to shake. It was one thing to have a dream, it was another to see it in reality.

“Hey,” Thomas said, tossing a towel at his head. “You going to just stand there? We really need to get going.”

“Yeah,” he replied, confused as he yanked the towel from his head. The mirror reflected the towel and its shape around his head, but not him. His clothes also were reflected, but not him. Wondering, he lathered the shaving cream on his face. He almost breathed a sigh of relief to see the cream too.

“But I still can’t see myself,” he wondered as he began carefully to shave his chin. He grimaced as he accidentally cut himself. This was going to be harder than he thought. Feeling his face, sure he had not missed a spot; he returned to his pack and stuffed in the little he took out.

“Nervous or something?” Luke asked, frowning. He shouldered his own pack. “Looks as if you had an unsteady hand.” Martin felt his chin again; the cuts still tender, though thankfully not bleeding.

“You could say that,” he muttered. It was unnerving to not have a reflection; no doubt his friends would go running to the queen if they knew.

“I can’t tell anyone about this.” He fiercely hoped everyone else saw his reflection; otherwise he would have to avoid mirrors until he got it back. He wanted to sigh. How was anyone supposed to go about getting back their reflection? Left with another question to weigh on his mind, he followed his friends out.
*********
Oh, dear, Martin has lost his reflection. It's going to get troublesome. Next week's post will be opinions clashing (not that they aren't already). Until then, bye!