Part Two: The Secret's Captive

Normally, authors go at least a year before publishing the next book. I've always found it annoying (Green Rider book 4 took three years, and I'm waiting for the last Eragon book so I can decide if I like the series or not...)Urgh. It really annoys me. But if I get that publishing deal, that's what's going to happen to me.

Thankfully, this isn't published (yet). This is editing in the works. Therefore, you only have a week to wait to start reading the next part. Now, just pretend that it has been a year and this has just come out. I have to explain everything from the start again, refresh your memories and all that.

Enough with this! To the second book!
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A boat was docking in the Nacre bay in the early afternoon. Its cargo carried mostly southern spices from the newly freed Evan’s Stand, a sea port that had been under siege all winter long. Its goods were in high demand in the capital city. However, its most important cargo was not spices, nor had any monetary value. In truth, no one knew it was important. The extra passenger had just been that. An extra passenger.

The young man gazed at Nacre, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. Though, he thought to himself, I have every reason to be nervous about coming back.

The city of Nacre, the capital of Aeterna, was considered one of the world’s architectural masterpieces. The large bay leading into the ocean displayed the city to the world while the thick Morvan Woods protected the city’s eastern side.

Nacre had been designed like the inside of a spiral seashell. There was one long street that formed a spiral throughout the city; it was built with a shimmering rock that reflected different colors from different angles. Other streets sprung from the Spiral Path and were much less colorful. On the side streets the busy life of the city dwellers went on. Merchants tried to bring customers in with colorful displays and loud announcements of sales. Service workers ignored the cries of merchants as they went to work on their crafts. Mothers would stand in out in the street, hanging their laundry and gossiping with the neighbors about the latest bit of news. Their children would dodge through the drying clothes, playing their games of their imaginations. Politicians had their own places as they argued petty disputes over small details in the law. Foreigners from across the world visiting would stop to gape at the wonders of the many gardens and large buildings of the city.

And at the very center of the city, where the Spiral Path ended, was the Aeternan Tree. A large tree of nearly thirty feet. No one knew what type of tree it was; some scholars even claimed that it was the only one of its kind. But any Aeternan knew that. It was a magical tree, blooming with delicate light blue flowers and hardy silver leaves that lasted even through the harshest of winters.

But the young man’s eyes lingered on the very edge of the Spiral Path, where it began between the ocean and Morvan Woods. The palace of the Santers was a masterpiece; every artist, historian, architect, and critic would agree. The palace had been built out simmering blue colored stone. The tall spires reached into the clouds, almost blending into the sky. The arching design served not to create the illusion of man’s work, but rather to reflect the beauty of nature. The palace gardens, nearly as large as the palace itself, were simply an extension of the palace. It was said that a person could visit both palace and gardens and not know where one ended and where one started.

The city had left quite an impression on him the first time he saw it from sea. Was that really nine years ago? He had been a boy of ten at the time, a former street urchin of Loman, a seaport of no nation. The ship he was on had stopped at Evan’s Stand then made its way to the capital of Aeterna. Even now, even with the sense of foreboding that made his stomach ache slightly, he was still in awe over the sheer size and beauty of the city of the nation he pledged himself to.

The irony of the whole situation was not lost to him.

The sailors moved around him, busy getting ready for their docking. The young man didn’t watch them as they worked. He knew where they were, each movement he could sense without turning around to see them do it. He snorted softly.

My powers are becoming more refined. He wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing. The last ten days on the ship had been boring for him. He had to do something before he went nuts. The only thing he could do, though, was practice his recently unblocked magic. Sighing, he turned to get his pack from his bunk.

“Hey! Kid! Watch out!”

The young man stopped, frowning. The sailor who cried out was carrying an empty frame with another sailor. He went to step through the frame when he noticed a flash of the city in the frame instead of the ship beyond.

“Can’t you see your own reflection?” the other sailor asked, grunting as he adjusted his hold on the mirror.

The young man blinked. No. The last time he saw his reflection it was the face of another. The face he should have had.

“My mind is on other things,” he quickly lied, walking around them. Even six months after loosing it, he was still adjusting to not having a reflection. Not that many people knew he couldn’t see his own face.

Sighing, he went to get his horse with his things already strapped to the saddle. The last time he saw his face it was when he was captured by Venter mages. It had been a sharp noble face with deep blue eyes and long blonde hair, not his current commoner one of hazel eyes and short dark brown hair. They changed me so much. The young man shivered. Trek had been clever when he kidnapped him, an event the young man didn’t actually remember. But it had changed his life in a very drastic way.

“All ashore!” the captain yelled. The young man led his horse after the other extra passengers the merchant ship. The other passengers had people come and greet them. Many were received with laughter, hugs, kisses, and even a few playful punches. He had no one greet him. No one saw as he mounted his horse and slipped quietly away into the heart of the city. No one really knew who he was. Not that he blamed them for not knowing. He didn’t really know either until just a few weeks before.

Besides, he grew up as a street urchin, a child used to shadows and fear. He just wasn’t ready for what the responsibilities that came with being who he was. To him, it was alright that no one knew he was the crown prince of Aeterna.

Martin Santer paused at the thought. He still wasn’t used to thinking of himself as the prince. If anything, he still wanted to believe that he wasn’t.

His life had been going great. He was serving Aeterna as a spy, and not just any average spy, but as the Alex, the top most spy in Aeterna. It had been his goal since the spy network took him in when he first arrived to become one of the great Aeternan spies; even on the streets of Loman the spies that came from Aeterna were considered clever and worthy of the rumors that followed them. He had the skills and the determination to achieve his goals. Eight years of hard worked finally got him the respect he had always dreamed of having.

And then it was discovered. He would have gone on living like the spy he was trained to be if he hadn’t found that Inhibitor in a Venter war camp. If his power hadn’t been unlocked. If the queen had seen the lone glove that proved that her son had in fact lived the night pirates attacked Nacre.

If onlys are not going to change my past, Martin thought bitterly. There was nothing that regretting the past could do for him, except maybe make his mood sour.

Besides, I have a duty to do. To the rest of the world, he was still orphan Martin, the Spy Alex. He was in Nacre for a reason and it wasn’t to reveal himself as their future king.

The letter from Doug Suit, the Spy Master of Aeterna, had been short and to the point, just like the efficient Spy Master himself. Abigail Santer, the Queen of Aeterna, and her councilors were considering what to do about her unknown son. Since it was him who “recovered” the glove from the Venter war camp, they wanted a full report from him. Martin rolled his eyes. What was wrong with a written report?

There was another reason, he was sure of it. Perhaps it was because he was on the list of young men who had no past and could be the prince. The councilors might want the opinion of what the possible princes thought of the situation they found themselves in.

If I didn’t already know that I was the prince, I would tell them to bug off and let me live my life. He would probably tell them that anyway. He had no intentions of telling them the truth. He had his own problems to worry about.

Martin shook his head. Yes, he had his own problems but he didn’t have the time to work them out. His current job was to report to the council about what he “found” in the Venter camp.

The letter had said to inform Queen Abigail of his arrival and she would then give him the rest of his instructions. The problem was that he did not know where to find her. He hesitated. He did have one way he could find out…

Glancing around the street, he spotted a small alcove. Guiding his horse through the crowd, he dismounted and sat down in the alcove, staring out at the busy street before him. The people worked to their own rhythm, to a beat Martin could feel within himself. He shivered; he still wasn’t used to his growing powers. Powers that he was sure were much stronger then what the queen and her daughter had. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mind to the people.

Immediately he was pounded with the emotions of everyone around him. The city itself had a sense of uneasiness. It’s the war, Martin already knew. It was two years since Terk, the Mad General of Venter, had invaded and killed their king. Martin opened his eyes, his stomach dropping even more than before.

My father is already dead.

Martin sighed deeply, his own emotions confused. Even though he was Suit’s apprentice he was never introduced as such to anyone important, including the king. Suit had his reasons though. He had had two previous apprentices, both killed before he could name them the Alex. “Best if you stay unknown, Martin,” the Spy Master had said. “You’re just an ordinary spy until I say you’re not.” At the time, he had thanked Suit for not introducing him as his apprentice but now…

If only is not going to change anything, he told himself, shaking the foolishness out of his head. He had come to terms with never knowing who he was and never being part of a family. He should be grateful he knew he had a mother and sister.

Pushing his troubled feelings aside, he let his magic seek the queen. There. Martin could not say why he knew the queen was there; he just knew. She was in the House of People, where most of the governing of Aeterna was done. It was almost at the center of the city, within sight of the Aeternan Tree.

She’s probably holding Court, he reasoned, closing himself from the city once again. It wasn’t going to be hard getting in; the Court was open to the public except for rare occasions. Knowing there was no use putting the meeting off, he shoved himself out of the alcove, mounted again, and started for the House of People.

It was nearing dinner time when he finally arrived to the House of People. He paused a moment to gaze at the Aeternan Tree. It was the center of the Square of the Tree, a large square that could have the entire city stand within it. Anything that the whole city could participate in would be found happening in the Square of the Tree. Festivals, markets, a hero’s welcome, parades, celebrations, and even public announcements from the Santers. At the moment, the Square was fairly empty, only a few merchant caravans on the other side of the House of People. Martin shook the thought out of his head that one day the Square would be filled for him.

Turning, he saw the House of People. It was a large stately building, with towering windows and strong pillars holding up a large balcony where announcements could be made for all those listening in the Square. Three large doors were guarded by men in Aeternan blue uniforms who were there more for decoration than protection. Dismounting again, he handed the reigns over to one of the many stable boys waiting for work. He tossed a coin at the boy and received a grateful grin. Martin found himself smiling. What I would have given to have that boy’s life. But that was the past; he had his future to worry about.

He walked up the dull grey stone steps to the closest of the three doors. The guard nodded at him as he approached.

“Business?”

“I’d like to hear what’s being said,” Martin shrugged. Truthful enough. “That’s assuming it’s open to the public today…”

“It’s open,” the guard said in a dull tone. Martin pitied the man; how boring it must be to stand here all day and ask the same questions over and over again. “But they only have a half hour before they call it done for the day.”

“Excellent,” Martin said cheerfully, surprising the guard a bit. “Then I don’t have to wait for my chance to talk with the queen!”

At this the guard snorted. “Good luck trying to get the chance. She’s booked with meetings. The soonest you’ll be able to see her is probably two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks?” Martin asked, feigning shock. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to admit that I’m her son to get to talk to her.”

The guard laughed out right. Martin flashed a fake grin. He wasn’t kidding. “Go on in,” the guard chuckled, opening the smaller door built in the large one. “Good luck with whatever you’re trying.”

Martin grinned again, bowed his thanks, and went inside. The inside of the House of People was as stately as it was outside. Made of the same dull grey stone, the only color that graced the halls were paintings of various heroes of Aeterna’s past. Martin ignored the scenes of the past as he walked to the large hall where the court would be held. He approached the ground door and found it blocked with people craning their necks to watch the proceedings. Rolling his eyes, he glanced around. Another set of stairs caught his eyes.

He climbed the steps to the second level of the hall. There were people here as well, but not as many as below. Martin searched the second level until he found an empty wall slit that gazed down into the hall. He stopped at it and gazed down at the Court below.

The large room was reminded him of an arena. Theater seating lined the sides of a long walkway down the center. The seats were filled with various public officials, noble and elected commoners alike. Several servants wandered through the politicians, offering refreshments or notes on the proceedings. However, the attention was at the far end of the room, where five different people sat on a raised platform. Three of the men Martin knew to be the ones who brought order to the Court. It was they who called out the next speaker, the next item of business, settled petty disputes, and made general announcements. The other two on the raised stage were the queen and her assistant.

Queen Abigail Santer was a very impressive figure. Her thin frame seemed more strict and commanding than frail. Although she was a woman in her early forties, most would age her mid thirty. Her flaxen hair was pulled tight into a bun at the base of her neck, a simple gold circlet on top of her head to remind those around her who she was.

As if anyone wouldn’t know who she was. Martin remembered the first time he had seen the queen, nearly four years before, and was still struck by how she acted to remind others of who she was. In every step, in every gesture of her hand, in her tone, she demanded respect for her station and her duty. It wasn’t hard to understand why she was able to hold the throne after her husband had died. She would rule her nation to the best of her abilities. And in the opinion of many Aeternans, she was doing a very good job at it.

At the moment, the queen sat on a throne, her grey eyes sweeping around the court, her expression serious thoughtfulness. Martin felt a pang of sadness to see the empty throne next to her. She refused to let the people to forget her husband. It was evident that she still mourned for her husband.

Martin paused, a familiar sense coming to him. A power he had even with the block. Someone was coming. Looking over his shoulder, he saw who.

“Can anyone sneak up on you?” Sona Merette asked, smiling as she joined him by the window.

Martin just shrugged, his usual answer whenever someone asked him that question. He glanced at the pretty research spy, not surprised that she was in the capital. Sona was about his age and held a similar reputation. Her skills were in books. She claimed she could find anyone or anything through records, given enough time. She lived up to her boast. That was the reason why she was in charge of finding the prince.

“Did you get a summons too?” he asked, still watching her carefully. He was one of the first names on her list of princes. No doubt she was also here to get other records to help with her search. He wondered idly if she had yet been able to get a hold of his locked records.

“Yes,” she said, gazing down at the court below. Martin shook his head slightly. She was a very pretty woman. Her features were delicate, a small nose, ready to smile lips, clever green eyes, and smooth skin. Her long brown hair was half tied behind her head, leaving the rest to cascade down her back. She currently dressed in what was known as the Standards; a simple blue skirt and red blouse that showed her nice figure.

Martin shook his head harder. Why was he getting distracted by how she dressed? He never noticed before.

“I got here when winter started,” she said casually, glancing at him with her penetrating eyes. “How was Evan’s Stand? It’s out from its siege, I’m guessing.”

“It wasn’t too boring,” he replied, shrugging again. “I just had to deal with thieves wanting to cut my throat and Seacats who wanted to play.”

Sona raised an eyebrow. “Seacats? I thought the Stand was taken over by the Venter navy.”

“They formed an alliance with the Seacats to take the Stand,” he corrected. “As far as I know, there was only one Venterian who ever stepped on the Stand.” The pretty researcher hummed softly to herself, switching her gaze back to the court. She knew there was something more to that story but was wise enough to leave it alone. He would be writing a report about it anyway. With a few certain details carefully left out. No need for anyone to know it was him the Venter mages were after.

“So,” Sona said, leaning against the window frame and looking at him again. “How have you been? It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Martin frowned. Now where is this coming from? He initially thought she was trying to pry information out of him about his unrecorded past, but that strange sense told him it was something else.

“Can’t complain too much,” he answered. “Suit sent me to the Stand to keep me out of trouble and I suddenly find myself in trouble anyway.”

Sona laughed. “The story of your life!”

Martin chuckled. “True, the story of my life. How have you been doing?” It was only polite to ask the question in return.

“Unlike your exciting life, mine is getting a bit dull.” She sighed, glancing through the window. “Not that I’m complaining. I love what I’m doing and I’m excited about my current project. It’s just… that sometimes it gets lonely. Books are great, but sometimes, people are better.” She looked at him again, a look in her eye that made Martin nervous for some reason. What did she want?

He faked a cough, stiffening a bit at her sanction of him. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “sometimes people are better.” But not always.

“Well,” he said quickly, trying to change the subject. “Looks like court is almost done.” One of the three men on the dais was pounding a gavel to call the session done. Sona chuckled softly to herself.

“I guess it is. When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago,” he sighed. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“I can help you with that,” Sona offered. “I’m to meet up with the queen shortly. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you here.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, frowning. “I think. Were you told what I’m to do, other than give stuffy politicians a report that I wrote out half a year ago?”

“I was told some details,” she admitted, waving the comment off carelessly. “But best let the queen tell you them. Speaking of the queen, I wasn’t lying when I said I was to meet with her shortly.”

Martin gave the pretty research spy a mocking bow. “Then we mustn’t keep the queen waiting!” He offered her his arm in a dramatic flair. Sona laughed at his antics but took his arm.

“Her waiting room is on this floor,” she told him, pointing in the opposite direction everyone else was going. “Shall we go?”

Martin chuckled and led her away, wondering why, for some reason, he was happy.
********
Ah, yes, the beginning of romance (please don't hold it against me if it sounds sappy. It's my frist time writing such stuff and it will get ugly later). But there you have it. The first of the second book. Next week, I'll introduce you to a character that actually annoys me (and Martin too). Brian Notment.

Enjoy the journey!

Prolog: The Summons

At last, we have reached the end of the Rebellious Spy. Monday is the start of the Amazon Breakthrough Contest for new novels that haven't been published. I am going to enter and see just how far my book will make it. Sadly, I won't know the results until April. Even then, the grand prize winner, who wins a publishing deal with Panguin, that isn't announced until end of June, early July. Sigh. I really don't like waiting.

Anyway, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for reading. I've always had an ugly habit of getting annoyed with my story and starting everything from scratch. But now everyone has been encouraging me to move on with the story.

Enjoy the journey!
*********
Gillian sat waiting in the alcove, waiting for the ship to return. He hadn’t slept all night. The pain was just too great. He refused any food or drink his attendant tried to give him. He just sat on his chair, holding his stomach tight. It felt as if something was trying to eat him from the inside out. But he was going to endure this pain. I’m doing this for the prince of Aeterna.

But he did hope that they would hurry up and return.

Nearing dawn, his ship was finally spotted. He tried to stand as they sailed through the cave entrance, but he was too weak from his night spent awake and in pain. He sighed in relief as it finally passed into the alcove and the pain suddenly gone. Curse the Seacats. But he had been a thorn in their side for a good two decades.

As he knew, the ship was undamaged. He was linked to the ship since the banishing. The ship was his life. That was the real reason why he hadn’t told Willy the Horrid or anyone else about it. The commander suppressed a shiver. Destroying his ship meant killing him.

The plank was drawn and the rescuers started down. Gillian strained his neck to find the prince. Is he alright? Finally! Martin chose to be one of the last people off the boat. Typical of him to think of others. The cousins Tyler and Glen followed after him. The sailor looked proud to have captained a ship successfully, but his cousin seemed trouble. But Gillian pushed the young thief out of his concern. It was Martin who looked sick.

He kept rubbing his temple, as if he was getting a headache. There was very little color left in his face, but Gillian supposed he looked the same.

“Martin,” he sighed, forcibly taking the spy’s hand and shaking it. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

The prince blinked, as if uncertain he heard the words. Then he flinched, glancing away. Gillian frowned. What was that? Something had happened on that Venter warship. Something that changed the young man.

“Martin?” he asked slowly. “Did something happen? Did they do anything to you?”

The prince snorted softly. “It can’t be changed.” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at his hands. “I will never be the same.”

He knows, the prison commander realized. He’s finally realized he’s the prince. Gillian wanted to know exactly what the mages had done but he held back. There was a new look in Martin’s face, different then physical pain.

He didn’t know what to do.

It was not an expression one usually saw on the spy’s face. Martin always had a plan, was always thinking about what he could do. Now that he realized he was the prince, he seemed confused about what to do. He seemed… lost.

Oh, Martin, what am I going to do about you?

He knew now that the worst thing he could do was to send a letter to the queen to tell her the truth. This was something Martin had to tell her himself. He had to know what he wanted to do before he could tell anyone about this.

“Martin,” Glen suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing. He folded his arms. “The mages did something to you on that ship. We all know it.”

“And I’m not going to talk about it,” Martin said softly. The young thief snorted.

“Well then, can you answer at least one question for me?”

Martin frowned at the request. “What question?”

“The mages asked you this,” Glen said, his posture becoming more stiff. “And I want to know its answer since you didn’t answer them either.” Martin stiffened at this. Gillian frowned, not following the conversation.

“When was the last time you saw your reflection?”

Everyone who was listening to the conversation mouthed the question, confused. Tyler even frowned thinking about it, his fingers poking the air trying to connect invisible dots. Martin blinked, putting on a mask Gillian knew that spoke of no answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,” Glen growled, pointing a quivering finger at the prince, “yes you do. I saw…”

“Nothing,” Gillian suddenly cut in. He had been watching Martin’s face through the conversation. This was going to lead to the whole “prince business.” Glen had no idea how much the prince needed time to consider his new role in life. Time needed alone. “We’ll talk later about this. I suggest all of you go back to your homes. The rest of the citizens have been going home, the rest of you should as well. We’ll talk after we’ve reorganized our lives in a few days. Until then, I will demand an Order of Silence. Martin will not talk until he’s ready.”
*********
Tyler knew his cousin was seething. His posture was hostile, he refused to speak, and he kept glaring at Martin. Tyler felt the icy silence as they walked home. Whatever had happened on that ship angered Glen. And as for the spy… Well, it was rather hard to read him. His face was kept blank as he answered any questions directed at him. And under the Order of Silence, he kept true to it. He refused to answer any question Glen tried to ask him. Before they left the fort, his cousin had settled into a refusal to speak stage of his anger.

This isn’t going to be good for Martin when we get home. Tyler knew that Glen would not stop pestering the spy until he got his answers.

When was the last time you saw your reflection?

It was such a strange question. Tyler remembered just a few days before when Martin was shaving. Why did it matter when he last saw himself in the mirror? The questions about the question drove him nuts.

I’ve got to stop thinking about this. They were half way home when he gave up trying to strike up a conversation with either of them. Instead, he saw the joy surrounding them. The people were back in their homes. Some were distraught at what they found when they got home, but for the most part, they were thankfully they were alive and their homes were intact. Things could be replaced. People could not.

The apartment building Glen homed in was full of happy drunk men. Most shouted for joy and sang songs of victory. Tyler smiled at their off-key notes and horrible lyrics. Yes, it was good to finally be out of the fort. Although nearly everything was provided for them, nothing could beat the joys of one’s own home.

Glen produced the key for his room and let them in. Martin walked in and immediately sat down on a chair the wrong way, his arms folded across the back of the chair. His eyes seemed distant and his expression in painful thoughtfulness. The sailor knew the pose from anyone else who had a hard decision to make. Though what hard choice was now ahead of the young Alex was beyond him.

“Well?” Glen asked with a snap. “Are you going to tell us the answer now?”

Martin didn’t answer. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn’t heard the thief’s question. Snorting, Glen turned his angry back to the spy and faced him. Tyler shrugged at the pleading in his cousin’s eyes for help.

“If he doesn’t want to talk,” he said, “then he doesn’t want to. How about some breakfast?”

The sudden change of topic threw Glen for a moment, but he gave a weak half smile. “Breakfast will hit the spot.” His cousin disappeared through the door to the shared kitchen and came back with fresh bread. “Courtesy of our next door bakery,” he announced, tossing a sticky roll at him. “They’re serving everyone in the Stand.”

“How nice of the bakers,” Tyler laughed, taking a bite out of the sugary bread. Yes, victory tasted good.

“Five months.”

Tyler and Glen turned to the spy, surprised by his answers. Martin didn’t look at them, but he now had a haunted cast to his features.

“What?” Glen asked.

Martin sighed and sunk his head down, resting his chin on his arms. “It’s been five months since I last saw my reflection.”

Tyler flinched at the answer. He opened his mouth to ask how he could not have had his reflection for that long when his cousin motioned for him to stay silent.

“Then,” the thief said slowly, almost fearfully, “what the mages had done to you…the face changing….and what they called you…?”

“Yes,” Martin whispered, his head sinking lower. The haunted look in his face now turned into fear. An expression that tore at the sailor to see in the young man. He was never afraid.

“Then,” Glen said, his voice taunt. “You’re the crown prince of Aeterna?!”

Tyler whipped his head around to stare Martin. Pain etched his face as he buried it into his folded arms. His answer was soft, and full of deep sorrow that nearly overpowered his word, but they heard it.

“Yes.”

The room went into a stunned silence, even the sounds of the victory parties from outside dulled at the spy’s quiet declaration. Tyler felt as if someone had driven the air from his lungs, and his body left numb from it. How could this be?

“Heithery,” Glen swore, stumbling for the couch and collapsing on it. “Martin! How… When… Why…I don’t know where to begin! How do you shave?”

Martin looked up enough to glare at the thief. “Very carefully.”

Tyler managed to shake himself out of shock. “This is what you’ve been bothered about since you got here, hasn’t it?” he asked, sitting down next to his shocked cousin. “We knew the prince business bothered you, but we figured you were just jealous.”

Martin barked out a short bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t have been jealous. Maybe a bit, but… I had come to terms with never knowing who I was. My life had been going great and then my lucky glove…” He sighed deeply, banging his forehead against his arms. “I didn’t believe it! I couldn’t have been the prince!”

Glen whistled softly. “So when the mages changed your face… talked of your powers…” Despite the shocking revelation, Tyler was getting tired of the unfinished sentences about what had happened on that Venter warship.

“I had already lost my reflection because I didn’t believe the truth,” Martin said softly, almost to himself in a haunting tone. “But when they changed me…” He almost sobbed, shaking his head against his arms. “It felt right. You have no idea how wrong I feel right now.” He sighed deeply. “I didn’t want this.”

“But you are the prince!” Glen exclaimed. His cousin started to fidget, a sure sign of the thief getting excited or aggravated. Tyler couldn’t tell which yet. “You’re the crown prince everyone has been looking for! We’ve got to return to the fort, tell Commander Gillian…”

“He already knows,” Martin cut in, snorting softly. “He’s known since you told him that the Seacats were after me.”

“Then he’s getting an escort ready to return you to Nacre,” Glen concluded. “I’m surprised he didn’t keep you up at the fort for your own protection!”

Martin snorted. “I think Gillian might have another plan. I just don’t know yet…”

“Come on, then!” Glen said, jumping to his feet. “We’ll get the answer from him. And after that, we’ll take you to Nacre where…”

“No one would believe you.” Martin snapped. He finally brought his head up from his arms, glaring at the thief. “I didn’t believe it either. It took three mages changing my face for me to finally admit that I’m the Santer everyone’s looking for.” He spread his arms wide. “Look at me, Glen! Look at what I’ve become! Who would believe that I could be the prince? I’m used to being beaten and cursed! Not pampered and blessed!”

His cousin looked as if someone had slapped him in the face. The spy took a deep breath, closing his eyes and getting his temper back under control.

“No one would believe you,” he said again, softer this time. “Not with what I’ve been through. A prince should never go through that.”

Tyler heard the sorrow behind those words. This is what’s really bothering him, the sailor realized, staring at their troubled prince. He doesn’t believe he’s worthy of being called Santer. He doesn’t think he can be our prince. Tyler had no idea what he could tell their friend. What could they say?

“But you’ve had the hard life,” Glen said, equally soft. His tone was careful and slow. “Nothing is going to change that.”

“No, it’s not,” Martin sighed, sinking his head back down on his arms. “And that’s why I lost my reflection. I’m not a prince, Glen. I’m just a Santer who doesn’t know what to do.”

Even Glen seemed at a loss of words at this. What could they say? Tyler thought back to the last two months, and how hard Martin worked to make sure everyone was alright. He had always cared about the people, had always worked hard for their benefit, so why did he feel unworthy to be their prince?

“Well,” Glen said, “perhaps something will come to you in the next couple of days. Gillian did say you needed a break.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t want a break. I want things to make sense.”

“Still,” his cousin said, “relax. We aren’t under siege anymore. You’re safe.”

“Safe,” the spy spat out. “I doubt I’ve ever been safe.”

This time, neither gave an argument. Martin had never been safe.
********
It had been four days since the Seacats fled the Stand. Four days since he had been captured. Four days since he finally admitted that he was the prince. And now Gillian had finally summoned him.

Martin made his way to the fort, using the thief way to get inside. The prison commander seemed to anticipate this, since there was a guard waiting there for him. The spy half expected the soldier to follow him up to the commander’s office, but was surprised when he stayed put.

As he made his way up to the office, Martin was struck by how empty the fort seemed without the refugees. The guards still occupied the fort though and the ones imprisoned there. Reaching the commander’s unguarded door, he knocked firmly on it.

“Enter.”

Opening the door, he found Gillian on his knees, replacing books on a shelf. Sunlight filled the large office, the sea beyond the windows glistening in the morning light. The council table had been removed and the commander’s desk placed back. The commander stood up when he saw who had come in.

“Ah, Martin,” he said, motioning him to a chair. “I’m glad you were able to come on short notice. Please, sit down.”

Martin sat, eyeing the commander suspiciously. “What do you want, Gillian?” The prison commander sat down behind his desk, his cheerful expression replaced by a serious business one.

“I would be right guessing that the last few months have been hard on you,” Martin nodded. The last five days, however had been the hardest. His capture, the meeting with the mages responsible for his changed face, the rescue when he used powers he didn’t understand, and the cousins spending the last few days trying to cheer him up by telling him that he was going to be one of the greatest Santers ever known. His world was falling apart and he had no idea how to piece it back together.

Gillian sighed. “I know how hard it is to have your world suddenly changed. All I had known was the sea. So when the Seacats banished me from the sea, I really had no idea what I could do. Sailing was my life.” The prison commander looked bitterly around his office. “When I told my superiors what had happened, they didn’t want to get rid of me so they placed me behind a desk with full view of the sea.”

“You had the option of having an office without the view,” Martin pointed out. The prison commander eyed him suspiciously.

“Have you been reading classified information again?”

Martin shrugged. “Suit said I needed to keep informed about the world.”

“I can’t decide if this is going to be a bad habit for you or not,” Gillian said, rolling his eyes. “But I want you to know that I know what you are going through.” Martin thought about it for a moment.

“What did you do?”

“I had to figure out what I wanted.” Gillian turned his chair enough so that he could see the ocean. “Even though I can never sail again, I still need to be by the sea. I need to feel the winds, smell the salty air, hear the waves. It’s very… calming for me.”

Martin snorted. “I doubt they would let me keep spying. The first thing Suit would do would be to take me out of the spying network. He’d demand I find my successor. They would alter my records. I would be told to never to talk about my life as a spy. They would come up with a princely past.” Martin scowled. “Your curse just affected you. My situation affects all of Aeterna.”

Gillian leaned back in his chair, stroking his limp mustache. “True.” He sighed. “But we have to worry about you as well. You’re the one without a reflection.”

Martin decided to ignore the comment about his reflection. “Then what do you plan to do about me?”

The prison commander gave him a small smile. “Nothing.” Martin raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing?” He had been expecting something else. “Why?”

“Because I know you’re not ready for life as a prince. A grand revelation proclaiming you as prince would probably ruin you.”

Martin gazed at the edge of the commander’s desk. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Another thing?” Gillian asked, a hint of humor in his voice. “What now? You’ve suddenly developed powers?”

Martin grimaced. “Actually you’re not far off.” Gillian raised an eyebrow. Martin took in a deep breath. “I don’t know what details you have heard, but… my powers were inhibited. I’ve lived most of my life without my Santer powers. But now that the Inhibitor has been removed, I’ve been able to… do things.”

Gillian lowered his hand from his mustache, frowning. “What sort of things?”

Martin took a deep breath. “I can feel the city’s emotions. I know more about those around me. Then, when I was rescued…” He had to take another deep breath. “I managed to calm a stretch of waves long enough to find Glen. And… I think I was able to call the ship to me.”

The day after the cousins found out who he was, Tyler told him an amazing story. Apparently, shortly before those on the ship found them, they all heard a cry for help. Tyler said he then knew exactly where to find them. I was hearing them, Martin knew. They were answering my call for help.

“On the Venter ship,” he trudged on, “the mages said I had been using lesser powers. Gillian. I’m using Santer powers that I think… might be more powerful than what the queen and her daughter have.”

At this the prison commander leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know how to help you there.” He glanced at his desk top; it was cluttered with papers. “But I will be writing to General Chief about it.”

Martin sat up in his chair, his posture stiff. “Wait,” he said, rising slightly out of his chair. “You’re not going to tell Fred about… this?”

“Chief knows more about the Santer powers then I do,” Gillian answered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Martin, but he should know about this. He has a right to know.” The spy sat back down, feeling uneasy.

“Are you going to send a letter to the queen as well?”

“No.” Gillian’s answer was immediate and firm. “I’ve said it before. You’re not ready for the life as a prince. I fear I would be doing Aeterna a disservice if I reveal you, even to the queen.”

Martin leaned back, now suspicious. There was something more to this. “Then,” he said slowly, “if you’re not going to do anything about me except send a letter to Fred… Why did you summon me here?”

Gillian picked a letter up from the mess on his desk. “I got this letter this morning. You’ve been summoned to the capital to report about the Inhibitor to the queen and her councilors.”

The spy froze. “I’m going to Nacre?”

“That’s what Suit’s letter orders.” The prison commander dropped the letter on his desk, folded his arms, and leaned forward. “Martin, I know that this is going to be difficult for you. I can’t even image the feelings you will be going through when you get there, but I will offer you some advice. Don’t tell anyone who you are. You are not ready. You need to find your reflection first. You need to discover what sort of man you want to be. Do you want to be the Alex? Or do you want to be Prince Henry?”

Martin scowled. “I doubt I could be either.”

Gillian lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile. “Then you need to discover who you really are. Don’t listen to the spy you’ve been trained to be. Don’t listen to the world and it’s perception of what a prince should be. Don’t be anything but who you want to be. I think, that once you find yourself, then you will be the greatest Santer we’ve ever known.”
********
It took another week for any ship to be considered seaworthy before Martin could begin his journey to Nacre. His final few days weren’t spent in idleness either. Many homes had been damaged during the Seacats’ stay, so he buried himself in the work. At least that nagging desire to help didn’t plague him while he worked. It also helped to keep his thoughts away from what he would be doing.

“Going to Nacre anyway,” Glen sighed, gazing wistfully at the ship Martin would soon be boarding. “But not as who you should be. Just as a regular spy. How tragic.”

Martin snorted, tightening his pack on Rowan’s saddle. The horse seemed as ready to leave as he did. “I’m personally glad I won’t be having trumpets announcing my arrival. Besides, I won’t be telling anyone the truth. Gillian was right. I need a reflection first.”

“You might need that,” Glen agreed, flinching. It had been a shock a few days after he told Glen and Tyler the truth. Neither of them could see his reflection either. Tyler nearly jumped through the ceiling when he realized Martin was carefully shaving the cream off his face without seeing his face in the mirror. Later, Gillian would admit that he also could not see Martin’s reflection. It would seem, the spy thought, that once a person knows who I am, they’ll also not see me in the mirror. He did not understand why that was.

Glen took a deep breath and gazed out over the sea. Tyler had left the day before, back to his duty as a sailor. “It’s going to be boring,” the thief sighed. “This winter has been… full of adventure.”

Spring had come suddenly. The Stand had woken up the week before to warm weather and blossoming plants. While the rest of Aeterna was under melting snow, Evan’s Stand already had new green growing.

“Full of adventure is right,” Martin chuckled. “Now it’s off to new ones. Good bye, Glen. Thanks… for a lot of things.”

The thief laughed weakly. “You’re welcome,” he said, shaking his hand. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re going to be great. I know it.”

Martin managed a weak half smile in return. He wasn’t so sure. Waving good bye, he led Rowan up the plank of the ship that would carry them to Nacre. Glen stayed on the dock as they shoved off and sailed away. Martin watched the Stand slowly grow smaller until finally, they sailed around a bend in the land and it disappeared completely from his view. Sighing, he switched his gaze to the inland.

Aeterna.

This nation saved me from the streets, he thought, the wind whipping through his short hair. Gazing at the budding green land, he thought back to when he first arrived. Fred always claimed that he was an Aeternan, even before they landed. Martin had trouble believing it. He was the orphan without parents and without history. Some small part of him always felt depressed that he wasn’t actually Aeternan and there were times he felt that he would never be, even with everything he did for the nation that saved him.

But now…

“I’m Aeternan,” he laughed softly to himself, smiling. He lifted his face up to the sun, greeting its warmth. “I’m actually an Aeternan.”

He may not know what to do about being a prince, but he did know one thing for certain. Aeterna was his home and he would protect it.

The End of The Rebellious Spy
**********
Ah, there's the end. Join us next week as Martin's adventures continue in the Secret's Captive. I'm not about to give him a break. Thanks for reading!

Believing the Truth

Well, the semester has started and it's looking like its going to be the most painful yet (and I'm not even in Nutrtion Biochemistry yet). I hear faint cries... "Stop complaining about school already! Get to the story!) Very well. Martin has been captured and the Stand is sending a rescue. Just an FYI, I LOVED writing this section!
************
Tyler had been given command over the warship. Glen had seen the pain in Gillian’s eyes as he ordered the sailor to captain the ship out. Any color the commander had left in his face was completely gone as they sailed out from the alcove under the fort; he looked like death itself.

The warship rocked gently as they sailed for the Venter ship. The enemy ship had sailed farther off shore earlier, and all the Seacat ships were gone. Glen stood by the railing, watching as they approached the anchored Venter ship.

“This is an impressive ship,” Tyler said, approaching him. “I can understand why the Seacats wanted to banish it as well as its captain.”

Glen didn’t answer his cousin. It was an impressive ship. Forty cannons, magic barriers to conceal it from magical eyes and attacks, a shallow draft, and muted colors. This ship was meant to go to war.

Hopefully it won’t come to that. The current plan was risky for just one. One volunteer would swim over to the Venter ship, sneak aboard, find Martin, free him, then swim back. If that didn’t work, the volunteer would send a signal a fire flare into the air and the warship would attack.

Risky for the one volunteer. There had been many volunteers, but Glen took command. He was the one going. He checked his belt of tools again. Smoke bombs, sticky balls, knives, explosives, and rope. He wore the same stealth suits they used during the siege. Gillian said it provided minor protection against magical attacks. Not much, but perhaps enough to stay alive long enough to rescue Martin.

“Nervous?” Tyler asked. Glen glanced at his cousin. Tyler was never meant for land. On land, the sailor was just a bit awkward and clumsy. But back on the sea, the sailor moved with the ship and its swaying. This is where his cousin belonged.

“A bit,” he admitted, switching his gaze back to the other ship. “I’m worried about him.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away, but gazed thoughtfully out over the sea. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why?” Glen asked, somehow finding a smile. “Martin is probably being tortured as we speak.”

“He’s a tough kid,” Tyler said, shrugging. “And I’d bet anything that he’d say he’s gone through worse. Besides, I just have a feeling that he’s alright. But perhaps that’s just me. I’ve missed the sea.”

Glen frowned. He had the same feeling but… Why did he also feel that it could get worse for their young friend if they didn’t act soon? He judged the distance between them and the enemy ship. A little more than a mile.

“I’m going,” he announced.

“What?” Tyler asked. Before his cousin could stop him, Glen jumped over the rail. “Wait!” he heard Tyler cry above, but it was too late. Extending his arms, he dove into the choppy waters.

A mile swim in the ocean, he thought as he started swimming towards the Venter ship. I can do this!

The going was slow in the cold waves. Gillian had predicted an early spring this year, but Glen didn’t believe it as he swam. The stealth suit did nothing to protect him from the cold. His teeth started to chatter the longer he swam. But he refused to stop. His friend risked his life for him; he could only do the same.

Glen paused as he reached the ship. There were some watches on the deck. He watched their movements before decided that they wouldn’t see him climb up the aft side. Taking the rope from around his shoulder, he formed a lasso and threw it onto one of the decorative iron lamps by a darkened window. Tugging on it, he found it secure enough to climb.

The climb up the rope was a lot faster then his swim to the warship. No surprises there. No one could see him here. With a thief’s eye, he judged the window an easy open. Digging his cold fingers into the woodwork, he pulled at the window. It slowly opened enough for him to slip his fingers in and pull it open all the way.

What a disappointment, he thought as he slipped into what looked like an officer’s quarters. The window hadn’t even been locked. Now, where would they hold a spy? The easiest answer would be below deck, tied up from head to toe. Glen doubted they knew they were dealing with the Alex, since none of the council knew, but the enemy was no fool. Martin was a fighter.

He started for the door when he heard voices. Freezing, he watched as light filtered under the door.

“It seems that Cantry is distraught,” chuckled a dull voice.

“Well, he did betray a Santer,” chuckled another equally dull voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d try to rescue the Santer to try to atone for what he’s done.”

“Speaking of the Santer,” laughed a third voice. “I suggest we go have that talk.” The three voices laughed in unison. The light faded from his view.

Glen stiffened. A Santer? Here? For a split moment, he was torn between finding his friend and helping the Santer. He gritted his teeth. I’m sorry Martin. But the Santer has to come first. Hating himself but knowing the spy would understand, he slipped out of the room and went in the direction the three voices had gone.

The thief racked his brain to figure out if they had captured the queen or the princess. Last he knew, the princess had disappeared for some “manner” lessons and the queen was at Nacre. But that had been two months ago. No news had entered the Stand since the siege began. They had no idea of knowing what was happening outside.

Glen slowed as he neared the light again; it now came from around a corner. Peeking around the corner, he saw three men dressed in overly big cloaks; one of them had blue hair. They were walking down a flight of stairs. Glen started to follow when he noticed they stopped at a door with guards.

They’ll see me if I go down there. Glancing around, he decided to find the room above the other. Surely this boat had holes. Running back the way he came, he found the room he was looking for. A storage room full of crates, he looked down at the floor until he found a hole just right. Kneeling down, he looked down into the room below. He was surprised at the sight that met him.

Martin sat with his back to the wall, his head bent down as if unconscious; his belt of knives and his boots had been removed. Glen frowned. Where was the Santer? Then he noticed the spy’s restraints. A metal bar pressed into the spy’s lower back and his arms bent at the elbows around the bar, leather tongs tied at his elbows to keep the bar in place. The thief recognized why they had bound him that way. It gave him enough freedom to move, but it stopped him from getting to his restraints. Glen wanted to pry the floor apart, leap down, and rescue his friend, but the door opened and the three men he saw from earlier swept in.

Taking in a good look at the three men, Glen realized they were the mages. All the same except for one having blue hair, one with white eyes, and the last a half foot shorter than the others.

“Wake him,” said one mage to a solider with a bucket. Nodding, the solider dumped the water down on Martin’s head. The spy woke up with a gasp, shaking the water from his short hair. For a split second, he seemed disoriented, then he focused on the mages. Immediately he tried to stand, but the bar was bolted to the floor. He struggled against the leather thongs that kept him tied.

“Now, now,” sneered the shortest mage, shaking his finger at him. “There’s no use fighting. Calm yourself before you hurt yourself.”

Martin shook with anger. “What do you want?” he growled, though he no longer thrashed about.

The three mages chuckled. “As if you don’t know.” The blue-haired mage squatted down. “Tell us. When was the last time you saw your reflection?”

The last time he saw his reflection? Glen mouthed, confused by the question.

“Must be hard shaving,” sneered the shortest.

“It’s none of your business!” Martin snapped.

The white-eyed mage laughed, the sound of it grating on the thief’s ears. “It is our business.” He gazed down critically at the spy. “It’s not often we get to see our work. I must say, we did a good job on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Martin’s retort didn’t have the snap it had before. There was a tone of uncertainty now.

“Don’t you?” the shortest asked, grinning. “Maybe this will help you remember.” The three mages clapped their hands and muttered a low chant. Martin cried out in pain, curling into a ball beneath the magic.

Glen watched, transfixed, at what he saw below him. Martin changed. It was a slow transformation, his limbs grew longer, his clothes sagged as his body thinned. His hair grew out, getting blonder the longer it grew. Suddenly the mages stopped chanting and Martin let out a gasp, as if freed. He raised his head, revealing an unfamiliar face to Glen. It was a noble face with chiseled features, a long nose to stare down, and deep blue eyes. Martin jumped where he sat, looking down at his altered body and now long blond hair. One of the mages produced a mirror and showed the spy his altered face. The color in his new face drained.

“What have you done to me?” Martin yelled. Glen jumped. His voice hadn’t changed.

“We only returned you to your real form,” white-eyed taunted, putting the mirror away. “Do you believe now that you’re the prince?”

Glen shook, gaping down at the spy. Martin was the prince?

Strangely, Martin didn’t reply back, his now blue eyes lowered. The three mages laughed. “You Santers,” Shortest snickered, “too stubborn for your own good.” Again, Martin remained silent, though his eyes narrowed in anger.

“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going to happen now,” Blue-haired remarked, idly waiving his hand. “You already know why we didn’t hold you for ransom when you were two. Now is no different. In fact, your Gift is stronger now than ever before.”

“No,” Martin finally said, softly.

“No?” White-eyed asked. “No what?”

“No,” the spy… prince repeated, his voice stronger and more defiant. He raised his head and glared at the three mages. “I don’t know why you took me.”

“Liar,” Shortest snapped. “You’ve been practicing your powers, Santer. Granted, you’ve been using your lesser powers but we figured that was because you don’t want to shout to the entire magical community where you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Martin snapped.

The mages snorted together and clapped their hands again. Martin cried out again, crouching as the magic took hold of him again. His limbs pulled back and he filled his clothes. His hair shortened and returned to its dark brown. This time, Glen could see the princely face morph into the face of the spy he knew. The magic released him and Martin sobbed as his body un-tensed. The white-eyed mage took his turn to squat down to the young man’s level.

“You’d better be good, Santer,” he growled. “We won’t tolerate lies or bad behavior. Remember, we can change your face whenever we want. We’re the only ones who can. Now, you will cooperate with us or we will change you back and forth.”

“I won’t tell you anything,” Martin snapped, looking up with his hazel eyes. “And I won’t cooperate!”

Shortest snorted. “The pirates said that there was fight in you.”

“But we’re willing to wait,” the white-eyed mage said, grinning. “We have time to break you, Santer. How many times do you think you’ll be able to handle your face being changed?” Martin actually grimaced.

“But it will have to wait until later. Come,” Blue-haired snapped. “Let’s give the prince time to think things over.” With deliberate snaps of their hard soled boots, they left the room, locking the door behind them.

Glen waited twenty fast heartbeats before looking back down at his friend. Martin struggled against his bonds, determined to free himself. The thief just could not wrap his head around the idea. Martin? The orphan, the spy, the young man who believed that everyone hated him? He was the prince?

I’ll have to answer those questions later, Glen thought, shaking his head. Martin would answer later. Right now, he had to rescue the young man. He thought about prying the floor apart, and then realized the noise it would make. The guards would come charging in the moment they heard wood breaking.

I have to go through the front door. Glen dashed out of the storage room to the stair, pulling out one of the smoke bombs. It was yet another special one from Yate’s armory. This one would knock people out. Pulling the pin, the thief threw it down the stairs to where the guards stood.

Glen spun around the corner again and waited. Two thuds came seconds later. There go the guards. Pulling out the mask he hadn’t yet put on, he did so now, hoping that it would protect him from the toxic fumes. He slowly made his way down the stairs, careful to make sure he knew if he were getting dizzy. Thankfully, he felt no such effect. He did a quick search of the guards until he found the keys. Scrambling with the lock, he opened it and then the door.

Martin looked up when Glen burst in. “Glen!” he said, immediately recognizing him despite the mask. “Help me out of here!”

Glen rushed to his friend’s side and cut the leather ties. Martin unwound his arms from the bar, rubbing his elbows.

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the thief helped him to his feet.

“Care to take a swim?” Glen asked. “It’s only about a mile out to the rescue ship.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Even with a rescue, no one’s going to make it easy for me.” He sighed, glancing at the door and the unconscious guards. “How many floors down are we to the deck?”

“There’s an officer’s window on the level above that I used to come in,” Glen suggested. “Last I knew, no one was there.” He paused. There was something that had been bothering him since Martin’s capture.

“Martin, who betrayed you?”

The spy scowled. “Lord Cantry. He told the Seacats that I would be out searching the Stand. He’s here somewhere on the boat. I suppose we should rescue him as well.” His tone was bitter, but there was a willingness to go. Glen had to admire the spy for his dedication. He wouldn’t let grudges overshadow his responsibility.

“Any ideas where to find him?” he asked, folding his arms. If Cantry betrayed their prince, he would have been inclined to leave the coward to deal with the enemy when they found out Martin had escaped.

Martin thought about it, and then hesitantly glanced at him. Sighing, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Glen frowned. Why was he choosing to meditate now?

“The floor above,” Martin finally sighed, opening his eyes. “Drunk.”
***********
Cantry stared at the mug of whatever the cook gave him. It was far from the best ale he’s ever tasted, he’d even go as far as say it was the second to worse, but he downed the contents as fast as he could. This was his fourth mug full of whatever. I am going to have such a headache tomorrow. He snorted in his drink. That was the least of his worries.

He had betrayed Aeterna.

A sob escaped his numb lips. How could he have done this act? He thought he was saving the Stand. Martin was an extra spy, someone who dealt with death on an unnaturally daily basis. He wasn’t the prince then. And now…He burst into tears again, pounding his head on the ale stained table.

“That’s disgusting.”

Cantry looked up, his head spinning. For a moment the world spun around until it finally focused on the two men standing in the doorway. One was in a stealth uniform, the other…

“Martin!” he cried, a ridiculous smile coming to his face. Stumbling back out of his chair, he staggered to where the prince was, grabbed the front of his shirt and sobbed into it, blowing his nose in it while he was at it. The prince stumbled back and tried to push him away.

“That’s even more disgusting,” the other man said with a step back, shocked at the lord’s behavior. “Are you sure we want to save this?”

Martin rolled his eyes, but managed to pry Cantry off of him. “He’s still an Aeternan. We should.”

The other man groaned but didn’t protest. Cantry was still smiling. The prince thought he was worth saving.

“I know a way out!” he announced, swinging around and loosing his balance. The two men caught him before he landed on his butt. He laughed out loud. “You see,” he whispered to them. “They have row boats on deck. Sneak off on one of those and away we go, back to the Stand.”

Martin exchanged glances with the masked man. “Well,” he said slowly. “It’d be better than swimming…”

“Yeah,” Masked One said, skeptical. “But we also have to deal with the guards.”

“You have smoke bombs.”

Masked One groaned again. “I’m regretting coming for him.”

“I’ll have you know I’ll help!” Cantry declared, swatting their steady hands away. “I’ll be a distraction!”

The two men exchanged glances. “Well,” Martin said, shrugging. “He’s an excellent distraction.”

Cantry grinned at the praise. He was going to be the best distraction the prince would ever know!
*********
I can’t believe how much I’m able read him, Martin thought, watching as Cantry somehow managed to make it up the stairs to the deck above. He was hesitant to use his powers, but reasoned it didn’t matter. The mages knew where he was, there was no harm in feeling for Aeternans.

It was a bit of a shock, he would admit, when he did finally open himself to the emotions. He could tell faintly there was another Aeternan beside him, Glen, and another larger source far off, but Cantry was full of sorrow and drink, he was surprised he hadn’t felt the lord’s emotions even with the block.

“I sure hope we don’t regret saving him,” Glen grumbled again, sneaking up the stairs. Martin didn’t answer; he didn’t understand himself why he wanted to save the drunken lord. His own feelings were to leave Cantry to the mages once it was discovered that he had escaped, but something urged him to try to help.

These powers are getting out of hand, Martin thought bitterly. He shivered as he remembered when the mages said he was more powerful now than ever before. Just what else can I do?

There was no more denying the fact. Not after how they managed to change his face. Martin could still remember how it felt with that different face; it had felt right. Even now, back to the only face he’s known, he somehow felt that he wasn’t quite whole. There was something missing inside of him.

“Hey, Martin?” Glen asked as he reached the top of the stairs to watch as the lord gave his distraction. “Are you alright?”

No, he thought, joining the thief at the top. My life has completely changed.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, trying to distract the thief from his troubling thoughts.

Cantry ran into the sentries and was laughing loudly about something they said to him. They cringed at his antics. “I just hope he doesn’t give us away,” Glen mumbled. “He’s really drunk.”

There wasn’t any argument. Martin was starting to share Glen’s worry.

“Let’s go,” he suggested, cringing at yet another loud announcement from the drunken lord. Glen nodded. Together, they snuck across the deck, opposite of where Cantry was distracting the guards. They were a little more than two thirds there when Cantry laughed again.

“My friends are over there! See?”

Martin and Glen froze, sharing a brief we-got-caught look.

“Escaped prisoners!” the call went out. “Escaped prisoners on deck!”

They started running for the nearest row boat when Venter soldiers dashed in and blocked their way. Martin glanced around, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess.

Glen grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the center of the deck. To the mast. “Glen,” Martin said, knowing what the thief had in mind. “I don’t think this is a good idea!”

“And neither was saving the lord!” Glen snapped. Thinking of Cantry, Martin tried to find him in the sudden influx of Venter soldiers. The lord was trying to tug a sword free from the guards he stopped.

“How dare you all!” he yelled, his words slurring with drink. He tugged at the sword in the more steady hand of the soldier. “I’d rather die than let you take him again!”

The soldier snorted and pried his sword away from the lord. “Then die already!” The soldier rammed his blade into Cantry’s chest. The lord looked down with surprise before collapsing on the deck. Martin gasped. The thoughts that were Cantry’s were suddenly just gone!

“Martin!” Glen snapped, yanking him back to the present and pushing him to the mast. “Start climbing up!”

“But!” he started to protest, though he grabbed the first hand hold.

“No buts!” the thief snapped, pushing him to go up. “Start climbing!”

Martin groaned but started to climb up the mast. He kept his eyes on the next hold up, his sight never wavering to the sides or down. I just have to get the next hold! The trick worked well enough. He climbed the mast a lot faster than he had been expecting.

He reached the first sail when he looked down to see how the thief was coming. Vertigo immediately took him, the world spinning in disorient ways. Martin grabbed for the rotating mask and held tight to it. Calm yourself! he tried to order, but his fear refused to listen. Breathing deep gaping breathes, he felt as if he would pass out.

“Come on!” Glen said, reaching him. “They’re coming after us! Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Martin snapped, shutting his eyes to keep the world from spinning. “They’ll catch us up there as well as here!”

Glen blinked, a slow understanding coming to him. “You’re scared of heights.”

“What gave you the clue?” Martin clung tighter to the mast as a strong wind swayed it.

“Martin?” Glen asked softly, no longer with the urgent tone. “Will you trust me?”

Martin opened one eye to glare at the thief. “You know I trust you.” Very few people ever heard that from him.

“Then trust me now and let go of the mast.” Martin eyed the thief, his fear-freezed brain unable to figure out what the thief had in mind. Reluctantly, he loosened his death-grip on the mast.

Glen grabbed his arm and ran across the sail. Martin cried out. I’m going to fall! Somehow he managed to keep his feet from slipping from the narrow walkway. “Get ready!”

Ready for what? Martin wanted to know. Before he could ask, Glen jumped from the walkway, taking him with him. A scream wrenched itself out of his mouth as he fell through the cold wind.

I am going to die!

The water came fast and hit him hard. For the second time that day, the air was forced from his lungs as he plunged into the sea. This time, he managed to find the surface. Sputtering, he gasped in air again.

“Glen!” he cried out, “Glen!” Martin couldn’t remember letting go of the thief’s hand. A wave crashed over him, sending him under. Fighting his way to the surface, he coughed the water out. “GLEN!”

“Martin!”

The spy swam in a circle, trying to tell from which direction the thief’s voice was coming from. “Glen!” He heard a muffle for a reply. By the Seven Founders! Things were just getting worse.

I need to find Glen and the ship, Martin thought as he tried to keep his head above the choppy waters. I need help!

“We hear you.”

Martin froze. What was that voice? Panic finally found him. Now he was hearing voices! “NO!” he screamed. He opened himself to the emotions again, desperate to try anything. There! Martin spun in the water, throwing his arms out in the direction he knew Glen was at. An intense shock ran through his arms and hurt as it left his fingers. The water suddenly calmed enough for him to see Glen fighting the waves a few yards from him. The calm water formed a path for him to swim towards the thief. Martin couldn’t think about what had just happened.

“Martin!” Glen gasped, his eyes wide as he swam through the calmed water. As soon as he reached the thief, the water returned to its torment of them.

“Do you know where the ship is?” Martin had to yell over the waves.

“I don’t!” Glen spattered. “I got turned around when we hit the water!”

Great.

Martin knew he had to use his powers. But the mages might find me again! He gritted his teeth; it was either die at sea or try for a rescue. Throwing the block aside, he quickly searched for that source he felt earlier. It was a lot closer than it was earlier.

“There!” Martin pointed behind Glen. “I can see the ship! It’s ours!”

Before either of them could swim, a call came out from the ship and a rope was thrown to them. A throw that was nearly impossible.

“Who’s on that ship?” Martin asked as they quickly tied the rope around their waists and tugged on it. They began to be pulled through the water.

“Just about every talented person from the fort,” Glen yelled back, laughing with relief. “You have no idea how popular you really are, my young spy!”

Martin couldn’t answer. How could he be popular? He was the orphan, the one who was betrayed for the rest of the Stand. Very few people actually cared for him.

They finally reached the warship and were pulled up. Splat! Martin hit the deck hard, gasping for breath. Someone draped a thick woolen blanket around his shivering shoulders. Glen started to stand, holding his blanket tight around his shivering body.

“Well, Cantry is dead,” he spat. “Serves him right. Betraying our Martin.”

“Martin,” Tyler said, kneeling down next to him. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you in anyway? We have healers if you need them.”

The spy shook his head. “No healer can heal what they did.” He stumbled to his feet, surprised by the number of onlookers. They seemed relieved to see him. Martin flinched. How could he be popular? He shivered, though it was not for the cold. Is it because of my powers?

Tyler nodded back out over the sea. “What are we to do about them?” Martin followed the sailor’s gaze to find the Venter warship approaching. He was sure the mages were trying to cast spells on them, but after what everything that had happened, he just could not figure out why it wasn’t hitting them.

“They need to be destroyed.”

The deck went suddenly silent, even Glen seemed shocked by his declaration. Tyler was the only one who seemed to understand. “They’re that dangerous, huh?”

Martin looked down at his hand, the scared and calloused one. Not the smooth hand of a prince. “They’re more dangerous than any of you can understand.”

Tyler nodded. “Gillian said that you might say they needed to be destroyed. Genwell!”

“Yes sir?” came the answer from below.

“Prepare the mage bomb and fire on Martin’s order!” This surprised the spy. Why his order?

“Aye, aye, sir!” There were sounds of a cannon being loaded. “Ready for your command, Martin!”

Martin took a moment to gaze back at the Venter warship. It was on that ship three mages who knew he was the prince. They could change his face at their will. They should go on trial for committing such a horrific pain on a fellow human. But Martin couldn’t wait for such a trail. Neither could Aeterna.

I’m never going to have my real face. Not that it was ever his. He’s only known the one everyone on the ship saw. Perhaps it was better that way.

“Fire.”

Blue fire shot out from under them. It arched gracefully in the dark night and hit directly on the deck of the other ship. All was silent for a moment before a bright light exploded on the ship. Martin shielded his eyes from the brightness. A strong wind hit them, rocking the warship dangerously in the sea. Then it was over, without a sound.

Everyone glanced to the now destroyed ship, but Martin was bent over. Something had changed. Groaning softly, he closed his eyes tight. He knew exactly what had just happened. It felt as if something had finally settled within him, like a sudden drop in his stomach. He was more solid now.

This will be my face from now on.

The mages had been killed and he would never have his face changed again.
*************
Next week's post: the last of the Rebellious Spy.

"Does it hurt?"

Ah, we're getting close to the end of this book and the pages I had the funnest time writing. Last time: Martin rescues a captured team, he's recognized as the one the Venterans want, he discovers nightmare dust, and someone is going to betray him. On with the story!
*************
An emergency meeting had been called, though Gillian wasn’t sure who called it. But he vowed he would find out and dish his sharp tongue out on that person. The news the rescue team had come back with was very disturbing. Martin was the one the Seacats wanted.

The news wasn’t what they needed to hear.

“What we need to do is to turn him in,” Chad South argued, pounding the table with a report on the cost of the siege. “If we stay under the Seacats’ power for much longer, it’s going to take years to recover!”

“I don’t think we should discuss this without Martin present,” Paul Eck said, leaning back in his chair. “If he really is the one the Seacats are after, then he should have a choice about it.”

“Agreed,” Gillian snapped. Everyone one in the room frowned at the outburst; normally he was the calm one. The prison commander took a deep breath. Now was not the time to loose his temper. “Martin just saved our men from the Seacats,” he went on in a calmer tone. “The healers ordered him to take a rest. That’s why he’s not here and that’s why I’m protesting this meeting. If we’re going to talk about his fate, he has a right to argue his position.”

Cantry snorted, sipping at his wine. “He’s just a spy. Aeterna has a surplus of them. Surely we can sacrifice one for the good of the Stand.”

Gillian clenched the tabletop, grinding his teeth together. No, Martin wasn’t just a spy. He was the Alex. And his name was on top of a list of possible princes. None of that information could be told to the war council.

“Martin can’t be turned over,” he growled. “There’s reasons I can’t explain, but we’d be in worse trouble if we do give him to the Seacats.”

Willy burst into laughter. “That kid? I’ve been watching for the last couple months, Gillian. I know you worry about him, more than a commander to follower. It’s more like a kindly uncle or something. I wonder if your defense for him is merely your own concern and what he really is.” The remark hurt, more than Gillian wanted to admit. Martin had a talent of making the powerful want to help him.

“I don’t blame the commander,” Yates argued, leaning forward and glaring at the thief. “If you’ve been watching, you would have noticed that the citizens respect Martin. I know that the majority of the Stand would not like it if we gave him over. And I would be one of the first to protest any action against our spy.”

“Thank you,” Gillian said softly enough that no one heard. Yates could be painfully blunt about how things really were.

“They respect him because he’s a patriot,” South said, glaring back at the Arms Master. “I’ve talked with the young man. And I’ve seen him send teams off and receive them when they got back. He cares for the people. He’d do anything for Aeterna. If I know him right, he would give himself up to save the Stand.”

That might had been the case before, but Gillian knew better. Martin’s duty to Aeterna now needed him to be kept alive, and not in enemy hands.

“Then we need to ask him,” Gillian said, trying to stall for time. “If he doesn’t want to go, we’ll find another way to get rid of the Seacats. And if he agrees to go…”

“He’ll leave,” South said stubbornly. “I know he will.”

You don’t know our spy as much as you think you do, Gillian thought, meeting the craftsman’s steady gaze with a cold one of his own. The nagging at the back of his mind about the young man pounded inside his head. Although they didn’t know why the Venter mages wanted him, or why his reflection was missing, it was piecing together the young man’s mysterious past. I doubt any of us know him as we think we do.
*********
Martin was more tired then he thought. It was mid morning when he finally woke up. His bunk was in a temporary tent in the main courtyard and the sun’s light filtered through the tent flap. The spy rolled onto his side and looked outside. The fort was already in full activity of the day’s work. Perhaps that means Gillian will be busy too.

The suggested restful night sleep did not come to him. The moment he laid down, thoughts plagued him. What did Gillian think of his missing reflection? Would he connect it with the prince? Martin sighed. The prison commander would probably make that connection. And what of the poison he didn't recognize? He put the matter out of his mind for the moment. He had given the sample to the healers; there was nothing else he could do about it. That still left the problem Gillian and the council.

I won’t get anything done by laying here all day. Rolling out of the bunk, he pulled his truck out from under it and changed his clothes. It was a good thing he was the only one in the tent at the moment; all the other men who shared the tent had gone off to their other duties.

Once dressed, he left the tent. Surely Gillian would be too busy to talk to him. This left Martin a full day to come up with an excuse why he had no reflection.
*********
The spy was good, Gillian admitted. The young man had somehow managed to avoid him all day. He also avoided the rest of the council. The commander couldn’t blame Martin, though. Each member probably wanted to find him and convince him what the right course of action was. Martin did not take anyone’s advice on his life very well.

It had taken an order to get the spy to meet with him. Gillian made sure the young man knew he would not be meeting with the rest of the council. This was a subject that obviously put the spy on the edge of his nerves.

The wind blasted him as he arrived on the battlement he asked Martin to meet him at. Glancing around, he saw the young spy standing by the guardhouse, watching the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon. Martin wore a worn coat, having given up his good one for someone else. His dark hair barely whipped in the wind and his hazel eyes looked farther then the sunset, to something that troubled him. The prison commander switched his gaze to the spot the spy was seeing. Loman lay in that direction.

He’s not so different than when we first found him. Some would say he had changed, but Gillian disagreed. Martin still had that fighting spirit, the same determined look in his eyes, and an attitude of taking on the world. He had just channeled it into a more quiet, and more dangerous, way.

“It’s a quiet evening,” Gillian said, announcing his presence to the spy. Martin didn’t even flinch; he always seemed to know when someone was around him. “The Seacats don’t seem as if they’re going to cause us trouble tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure they have a plan,” Martin replied, his eyes still glazed over.

“They’re probably making it,” Gillian agreed, walking over and joining the spy at the guardhouse. “That’s why they’re quiet. They’re a bit obvious when it comes to changing tactics.” Martin just shrugged. Gillian let the silence come between them. How was he going to approach that subject? No doubt the spy had spent all day thinking of lies to cover his story. And Gillian knew he would have bought those lies if he didn’t now know who was standing beside him.

“Does it hurt?” Martin suddenly asked.

Gillian frowned. “Does what hurt?”

“The Seacats banished you from the sea,” Martin said, nodding to the ships that still blockaded them. “Does it hurt that you can no longer sail?”

Gillian stiffened. Apparently the spy had heard a lot more than he let them know. “It’s a painful memory,” he answered. “I don’t like to recall what they cursed me with… But, yes. It does hurt. Some days more than others. Why do you ask?”

The spy sighed and leaned against the stone guardhouse. Finally taking his eyes off the horizon, he gave Gillian his full attention. “Because it’s going to hurt talking about what you want to talk about. I was rather attached to my reflection.”

The prison commander flinched. Martin wasn’t going to tell him lies this night. He was going to be painfully blunt. The tone the spy used was full of bitter pain and… denial?

“Does anyone else know that you no longer have it?” Gillian asked. There. Not too painful a question.

Martin shook his head. “You’re the first.” Gillian was wise enough to not ask how he managed without a reflection. The spy could put on disguises in pitch black. Shaving wouldn’t be a problem for him. Now came time for the more painful questions.

“How did you manage to loose your reflection?”

Martin snorted, glaring at something off to his left. “Because of a possibility.”

Gillian was familiar with the term now and the bitterness that came with it. Martin refused to say what he could be; instead he always called it a possibility. His suspicions from before suddenly became concrete. Only a strong power could take a person’s reflection, and only then it had to be for a good reason.

Martin was the crown prince of Aeterna.

And he didn’t believe it.

Gillian sighed and looked back over the sea to where Loman was. The irony was real. They had no idea how important that street urchin was when they brought him to Aeterna. The soothsayer just said the young child was going to be a powerful figure when he grew up. The boy Martin called the mystic batty and always full of hot air. Most of the sailors agreed and dismissed the fortune. We should have listened.

The commander didn’t know what do now. The honorable thing to do was to send a letter immediately to Queen Abigail and Fred Chief, but… He didn’t know if it were the right thing for Martin. Who was he to judge if their prince was ready or not?

“What am I going to do with you?” Gillian asked, the cold air whipping around them. “I know you’re not going to make this easy for any of us.”

“I am stubborn that way,” the spy said. Gillian chuckled. That was true. “Besides,” Martin went on, his gaze attracted to the surrounding warships. “We still have to deal with them before you can get any word out.”

Gillian lowered his gaze to the warships. They hadn’t moved during their two month stay. “The Seacats must be getting very frustrated,” he commented. “They can’t stand being on land for very long. The sea is calling them. It won’t be too long before they act. How they act, however, is the question. They may break their alliance with Venter. But they also might try to capture you.”

Martin scoffed. “I’d like to see them try.”

“I would prefer not to see,” Gillian said, his tone a bit too harsh than it should. “From now on, you’re under protection.”

Martin groaned and leaned harder on the wall. “Sure. Go ahead and put a target on me while you’re at it.”

“It’s for your own good,” he snapped. “And it’s not just to protect you from the Seacats. Some of the council wants to hand you over to the Seacats. They say it would be better for one man to take the punishment than endure this siege any longer.”

The spy seemed surprised. Gillian thought Martin would have been angry at the news. “You didn’t tell them about the list?”

“Heithery! Martin! It’s classified information!”

Martin frowned and was about to reply when a soldier came running up the stairs. “Commander Gillian!” he called. Reaching them, he bent over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is it, sergeant?”

Taking in a final deep breath, the soldier stood to attention and saluted. “Sir, we think the Seacats are leaving!”

“What?” Martin asked, taking a step forward. “Leaving?”

“Boats of Seacats have been seen crossing to their ships,” the sergeant answered. “And if our math is right, a good majority of them are already gone.”

Gillian blinked. It was something the Seacats would do. But something did feel wrong about it. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“We’ll wait for tomorrow to tell everyone,” he ordered. “Keep an eye on the Seacats, make sure there’s an accurate count on how many leave. And if they are gone by morning, we’ll send out all our teams to make sure they’re gone.”

Gillian chanced at glance at the spy… prince. What am I to do about him? He will want to be out there. And if what he knew about Santers were true, Martin would go mad as the urge to help overpowers him. Perhaps the spy was right; giving him a guard would make things worse. Very few people knew that the Venter mages wanted him. Even fewer knew about the list. And the commander knew he was the only one who knew the young spy was the prince. Martin certainly didn’t believe it.

“And I’ll also head out,” he announced, surprising both spy and soldier. “I’m going to make sure those Seacats are gone from the Stand. I’ll pick my own team.” And the first one of that team was Martin. Gillian had to keep an eye on the young man to make sure he wouldn’t get in any trouble, from either the Seacats or the council.
*********
Something is wrong. Martin could not shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Oh, yes, Gillian had not let him out of his sight since their conversation the night before, a problem he was going to have deal with later, but there was something else watching him. Something that did not mean him well.

Weary of the unseen watcher, Martin was more aware of his surroundings. The other members of Gillian’s team, all dressed in stealth suits, also watched their surroundings. Currently, they were walking out of one of the Stand’s homes. The orders were to check every building, every ally, and every tunnel for any remaining Seacats. Gillian had picked, aside from his personal guard that accompanied them, Arms Master Yates, his apprentice Phillis, and, surprisingly, both Glen and Tyler.

Martin glanced at the covered face of the commander. What’s your game? The commander may not have said it aloud, but Martin could see it in Gillian’s eyes and actions. The prison commander thought he was the prince. What Martin could not figure out was what he was going to do about it. Thankfully the commander had said nothing to anyone else. There were no guards assigned to just him and he had not been ordered to stay at the fort. However, Martin knew the commander well enough. Gillian would act on the knowledge sooner rather than later.

“Seems they’ve left the Stand,” Yates commented to the commander as they reached the end of their search area. Martin glanced out to sea where the Seacats still moored.

“Yes,” Gillian muttered, rubbing his chin. “And took what they wanted and leave us with the mess.” He also looked at the ships, his eyes dark with anger. “I don’t trust this.”

“Sir?” Tyler asked, tugging at the mask on his face. “Can we take the masks off now? As far as we know there aren’t any Seacats here.” The others nodded to show their support. Martin had to agree with them. They had spent all day spent searching and it was now mid afternoon. Despite the cold winter wind, it was hot under the masks.

Gillian tugged at his own mask. “Alright.” The others sighed with relief as they pulled the masks off. Martin hesitated before he took his off; he still had the feeling that someone was watching him. He finally tugged it off and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Well,” the commander huffed. “There’s no denying it. They’re gone.”

“Think again!”

Martin spun around in time to avoid as a Seacat leapt toward him. Rolling to the ground, he dodged out of the way. The black tomcat hissed and lunged again. Martin rocked onto his back and kicked the creature over his head. Ripping his knives out, he crouched low as the Seacat charged him again. Martin ducked under his outstretched claws, swung his knives, and sliced at the creature’s belly. The tomcat howled and backed off again, shaking with anger as he pressed a hand to his gut to keep the blood from flowing.

“Filthy human!” he screamed. “You’ll pay!” Taking a swift glance around, Martin saw the others fighting their own Seacat. He was the only one who managed to hurt his opponent.

The tomcat screamed something. Suddenly, three Seacats joined the fight. Martin braced himself for the attack. The Seacats jumped into the middle of the fight and grabbed Glen.

“Let’s go!” the injured tomcat ordered, dashing for the nearest sea port. Glen screamed, trying to fight his way out of the Seacats’ grasp. Martin ran after them, ignoring Gillian’s distressed cry. Now was not a time to worry about himself.

I can’t let them take my friend! He had too few to lose!

His feet thumped on the wood planked dock, catching up with the Seacats. Glen had somehow managed to give them cuts from his blades. Martin threw his, striking the creatures in the arms. Yowling, they dropped the thief. Glen took his chance and ran to join him. Martin gave the thief a quick look. Didn’t seem that they starched him. Odd. They like causing pain.

“Back to the ships!” the black tomcat yelled. The other Seacats from the fight suddenly flew to the dock and dived into the sea. Giving him a hateful glare, the tomcat also dived into the sea. Martin breathed heavily. Something was wrong here.

“Martin!” Gillian yelled, running to the dock, the others catching up. “What did you think you were doing?” He was red in the face, though his expression was full of worry. Martin rolled his eyes. Gillian was going to be a bother if he didn’t set him right about the whole prince business. Glen laughed at their concern and started for them, throwing his arms out to show them that he was alright.

Thump.

Martin frowned. What was that? Sniffing the air, he took in a sharp breath and his eyes widened. That was blasting powder. Gillian saw the horror on his face and started running faster.

“NO!” he yelled. “Stay back!” He started running for the shore.

Bang!

The world dropped beneath his feet in a blinding light. Martin fell through the hole in the world. The water hit him, driving the air from his lungs. Throwing his hands up, he tried to swim for the surface when hands grabbed him and pulled him back down. Throwing punches and kicks at his unknown captors, he was pulled at unnatural speed through the water. His lungs burned for air and Martin knew he was on the verge of unconsciousness when he was finally thrown out of the water.

Splat!

He landed on a rocking rowboat. Several Seacats grabbed him before he could figure out anything more than that. He struggled against them as they stuffed a dirty cloth into his mouth and tied his arms and legs.

“You have a lot of fight, human,” said the black Seacat, wrapping a cloth around the wound he gave him. Martin tired to shove the Seacats’ hands off him and glared up at their leader. The tomcat squatted down to his eye level. “Yes. You have a lot of fight. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with you. But I do hope the Venter mages will take the fight out of you.”

Martin shook with anger. Captured! Again! I’ll get out of this, he vowed. I will never bow under them!
*********
Lord Keith Cantry squirmed, his stomach was just as queasy about being on the boat as he felt about being with these mages. I’m not meant for this, he kept thinking. He had hoped that once he told the Seacats who they were looking for, they would take the young spy and leave the Stand alone. It’s better for one man to suffer than all of us. Gillian just would not listen to reason. He kept saying that Martin could not be handed over, for reasons they would not understand. Cantry didn’t know what the prison commander saw in the young man, but this siege had been going on too long.

After Cantry had informed the Seacats that the young spy had left the fort to search the Stand, the creatures had kidnapped him and brought him to the mages. Their excuse was so that the mages could thank him themselves.

I don’t want thanks, he thought, feeling sick that he was with the mages. I want to go home. But no, the mages wanted him to stay. He glanced over to the three mages, flinching. The three were almost identical in face and form, all three wore dark bellowing cloaks. The only ways to tell a difference between them were small things. One was a half foot shorter than the others, one had blue hair, and the last had white eyes.

Cantry shivered. Why did they want me to stay? He had done his part. Before the day as out, they would have the spy. Though why they wanted the young spy was a mystery to him. There was nothing special about Martin; he was a commoner by the looks of it, with a knack for spying. But the mages had grinned when they were told they would have the spy that day.

All this foolishness over a spy, Cantry thought, shaking his head. Martin should have turned himself in the moment he learned that he was the one they were after, for the good of the Stand. And Cantry still didn’t understand what they meant by the young man not having a reflection.

“Ah,” the white-eyed mage said, a slow grin forming. “They’re coming.”

Cantry frowned. How could they tell?

Bang!

The lord jumped as the spy was brought aboard. It took three Seacats to drag him over the side, the spy struggling against his bonds. He tripped when they finally got him on the deck and the Seacats tried to pick him back up. Martin brought his legs close to his chest then kicked out with all his strength. The unfortunate tomcat got hit in his middle and went crashing back into the railing around the deck. Four other Venter soldiers had to rush over to hold the young spy down on the deck.

“Come, Cantry,” the blue-haired mage chuckled. “Let’s go greet him.”

“No,” Cantry stuttered, taking a step back. “I don’t want…”

The soldiers and Seacats somehow managed to drag Martin to them. The spy dug his heels into the deck to make their way harder. They finally had to punch the spy in the stomach, forcing him to his knees to keep him from fighting. He took in the three mages, his frame shaking with seething anger.

“Welcome to the Soyier,” the short mage chuckled. “I hope you’re journey was a pleasant one.”

Martin snorted through his gag and tried to jerk his shoulders out of the soldiers’ hold.

“No?” the mage went on. “Well, we can’t have everything? Now can we, Santer?”

Cantry shook. Did he hear the mage right? Did he say Santer?

The spy froze, his chest moving with slow deep breaths. The mages chuckled. “Yes,” blue-haired said. “We know who you are. But, your highness, we want you to meet someone. The one responsible for your capture.”

Cantry felt invisible force pull him forward. Martin’s eyes flashed with anger as he looked at him. Cantry felt his blood turn cold as the spy shook with new anger. The look in his eyes spoke of his hate. You betrayed me!

“Well, Cantry,” white-eyed laughed, slapping him on the back and jerking him out of the spy’s unforgiving stare. “What do you think? Your prince in all his glory. Changed face and all.” He looked critically down at the spy. “He does look like a commoner, doesn’t he?”

Martin scowled. Smack! The spy suddenly jerked to the side and knocked one of the soldiers down. His hands broke loose of his bonds. He didn’t waste time with his freedom. Ripping knives from his boots, he swung them at the other soldiers. The blue-haired mage snapped out a word he didn’t know.

Bang!

Martin suddenly collapsed on the deck, unconscious. The Venter soldiers approached the spy warily.

“He’s out cold,” the short one snorted. “Take him below and chain him up. We’ll talk with him when he can’t use his powers.” Cantry was frozen to the spot as the soldiers picked the spy up and carried him below.

“He can’t be the prince,” he whispered, shaking his head. “He’s just a spy!”

“A spy?” white-eyed asked, frowning thoughtfully. “That explains some things. But we’ll get our answers later.”

“But he is the crown prince,” blue-haired chuckled. “We should know. We’re responsible for changing the Santer’s face.”

“We figured you didn’t know who he really was,” the short mage added, grinning. “That’s why we wanted you to meet him. Congratulations, Cantry. You didn’t betray an orphaned spy. You’ve betrayed a Santer, the crown prince, no less.”

The truth of their words crashed on him. Dropping to his knees, the lord of Evan’s Stand felt tears streaming down his cheeks as the mages continued to grin. What have I done? He had thought he had been saving the Stand. Now he knew he had betrayed all of Aeterna.
*********
“No!”

Glen pounded the table, the force of his fist breaking through it. The council jumped at the force of his objection. How dared they say it was for the best to leave Martin with his fate!

“Martin would risk his neck for any of you!” he snapped, pulling his hand out of the table. “Think of what he’s done for all of you!” He glared at the council, those there. For some reason Lord Cantry, Gillian, and the commander’s staff were missing. Even Yates didn’t show up to the council summons.

“We know,” South said in a calming and soothing tone. Glen gritted his teeth. Why were they trying to calm him down? His friend was in danger! “But Martin would want it this way. I know the lad’s patriotic. He’ll pay the ultimate price for Aeterna.”

Glen wanted to knock all the council flat. Martin would lay down his life for Aeterna, but that didn’t mean he deserved that fate when they could rescue him!

“Exactly why we need to rescue him,” a soft voice said. Glen paused and turned around. Commander Gillian stood by the door of his office. His face was drained of color and he looked sick. “Martin would die for Aeterna, but that doesn’t mean we should let him.” He stared down at his feet. “Especially when he’s…” The prison commander didn’t finish his sentence. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up to meet their gazes with a firm determination. “I will organize a rescue team.”

“You might have trouble finding people to go on it,” Willy yawned. The fat thief tapped his cane on the table. Glen wanted to take that cane and bring it down on the thief’s head. “I know several people who want to see him dead anyway. Myself included.”

Oh, yes. Glen almost snatched the cane.

For the first time that day, Gillian showed a hint of a smile. “There you are wrong. I was just gathering people up. There are too many volunteers that want to go.”

Willy blinked, surprised. “When did the brat become so popular?”

“He’s spent the last two months teaching the citizens how to fight,” Gillian answered. “Many say they owe their lives to the young man because of what he’s taught them. He was their teacher and then their commander. He was there when each team got back and made sure everyone was alright. Martin cares for these people, Willy. And now the people will return the favor.”

“Sir,” Glen started to say, saluting.

“You’re already on the list to go,” Gillian cut in.

“This is all very moving,” Eck sighed, “but how are you going to get to the ship? As I recall, we don’t have any warships. And all the merchant ships have been destroyed by the Seacats. I don’t see how you’re getting out to sea.”

“They’ll be using my ship,” Gillian said slowly, almost painfully. “It’s moored under the fort.”

“What?” Willy yelled, jumping to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell us we had a warship?”

Gillian gritted his teeth. “Because when the Seacats banished me from the sea, they banished my ship as well.”

“Well that’s useful,” Glen muttered. “Give us a ship that can’t sail.”

The prison commander took in a deep breath and then another. “My ship has been out to sea before, after the banishing. It just… hurts me when it does.” Glen frowned. What sort of pain? Gillian shook his head.

“But I am willing to do my part to save Martin.” He stared at his feet again, ashamed. “Since I’m the only one who knows…” Glen was confused. What was with Gillian’s unfinished sentences?

“They’re preparing the ship was we speak,” Gillian said, the authority in his voice and posture returning. “They will be leaving after dusk. The mages won’t kill Martin quickly. We have time to save him.”
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Oh, my poor, poor character. Only two more posts to this story, then we begin the Secret's Captive. I hope you enjoy!