The Reason

I think one of the hardest things to do is try to name these posts. I mean, I don’t want to give too much away about what the post is about, but at the same time, I don’t want to be too vague. Oh, some posts are easy to name. Such as “Fred’s Secret”, “Martin’s Entrance”, and so on, but there are other posts that I have trouble naming.

Such as this one.

Other names I considered for this post: “How is the Land Divided?” “Escape” or even “Depression.” However, I picked “The Reason” because this post will reveal the truth behind Martin’s kidnapping. Last time, Luke was killed, Martin revealed as the prince, and he was captured by the enemy. Time for the hero to act.
************
When Martin finally woke up, he didn’t open his eyes. His emotions were too raw, too fresh. He didn’t want to wake up; it would be better if he were still unconscious. Even without opening his eyes, he knew he was in one of the mansion’s dungeons, laying on a rock hard cot. There were shackles on his wrists, the iron digging into his skin. He guessed the chain that was laying on top of his stomach was attached to the wall. They must have hurried to put him in here; they hadn’t even frisked him for weapons. He could feel the hilt of one of his blades digging into his ankle from inside his boot. All this he knew without even opening his eyes.

And he didn’t care.

What did it matter? He was captured by Terk, the other captives knew he was the prince, and his best friend was dead.

He let out a low moan, though he wanted to sob. Luke was dead. Dead because of his stupid mistake. Why couldn’t he have revealed himself as prince sooner? Would it have really hurt, letting the queen know the truth that day when his glove was discovered? Was he really that selfish to think he could keep this a secret for the rest of his life?

Yes, he thought bitterly. I thought I could keep on living like nothing had happened. I was too afraid of what they wanted me to be. No, that wasn’t true. He had been afraid of not living up to what they wanted him to be.

But it didn’t matter now. Luke was dead, he was captured, and Terk was going to finish whatever he had started seventeen years ago when he had kidnapped him.

“Santer!”

It was that voice again. Martin ignored it.

“Santer! Snap out of it!” It didn’t want to go away.

He snorted. Why?

“Because you’ve got to get out of here! Before they can create that permanent block!”

Let them, he thought, not caring.

“We know you’re suffering…”

You think?

“But we aren’t going to lose you now! Get up!”

Make me.

He could tell that he had just annoyed the voice. “Fine! We’re going to take away that depression of yours. You’ll get it back once you go to sleep.”

Then I’ll fall asleep once you’ve taken it away.

“No you won’t! We won’t let you sleep. Not until you’re safe! Now, get up!”

Martin yelped, a shock running through him. “Oh,” he groaned, putting a hand to his forehead, slowly sitting up. Why was he depressed?

“Now,” the voice went on, “Get to work. Escape, tell Commander Bentley what’s happened. Free everyone here.” Before he could reply, the voice was gone.

That’s a tall order they want, he thought, rubbing a large bump on his head.

“So,” said an oily voice. “You’re awake. Finally.”

Martin looked up. As he knew, he was in one of the cells beneath the mansion. He was sitting on an old hard cot and his wrists were shackled, the chain attached to the wall. But his attention was at the door. There was a small barred window in it and Terk’s face was filling it.

“I suppose I am,” he growled, his hate for this man shaking his frame. “Too afraid to come in here, Terk? Afraid that a chained Santer might be able to break something other than your nose?”

“You’ll pay for that,” Terk snapped through the bars. It must have been a while since the ballroom. Terk’s nose looked like it had been fixed, though there was still dried blood on his face. “I’ve just come to inform you about your fate.”

“I’m going to escape,” Martin sneered. “I always have.”

“Not this time,” Terk growled. “My mage is currently working on a way to permanently block your powers. He’s warned me that it might destroy your mind.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t know why you should bother.” His training kicked in. With Terk in high emotion, now would be the time to find out why he had really been kidnapped. “The Santer powers have always been Aeternan politics. Why should you care about my stronger than average powers?”

Terk gazed at him down his long nose. “I suppose I do owe you answers. Were you aware that your grandfather, King Bert, and I were friends? Good ones.” Martin nodded. He had suspected it when he saw a likeness of Terk on his grandfather’s tomb.

“He trusted me,” Terk went on, his black eyes distant as he recalled the past. “I wasn’t involved really in Aeternan politics, any politics for that matter. I was more interested in military stratagem than noble backstabbing. We were good friends because we did not share the same world. We wrote letters for years… Then toward the end of his life, he started writing about his powers… Santer powers that were getting stronger. Strong enough to affect the land…”

“That’s an Aeternan problem,” Martin pointed out.

Terk shook his head, suddenly looking like a very tired man. It was then that Martin remembered that the Mad General was nearly sixty, despite the black hair. “How is land divided, Martin Santer? Is it by lines on a map? Treaties after wars?” The general’s face darkened. “No. The land is not divided. It flows from valleys, to mountains, rivers, hills… The land is continuous.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Martin asked, getting a bit annoyed. He couldn’t tell if it was that Spirit getting annoyed or himself.

“Bert visited my estates a year before you were born,” Terk growled. “He sneezed. Just sneezed, and my entire mansion shook! He was terrified of what had happened, so far from Aeterna. He promised me that he’d find out why his powers suddenly got strong and how he might get rid of it.

“The next month I got a letter from him, explaining the Renewal Spell.” His voice got steadily louder as he explained. “It was then, Santer, that I realized that the Seven Founders didn’t merge the magic of Aeterna to your family line. They merged the magic of the land, the entire earth, to you!” Terk took a deep breath, his frame shaking with anger.

“It was wrong of them,” he hissed. “They shouldn’t have given anyone that sort of power. I vowed that I would find a way to stop the Santers from having that power ever again. I told nothing of my vow to Bert. He kept writing letters, saying how people viewed him as insane, and finally, how he might be able to rid himself of the powers. I was relieved. I thought I wouldn’t have to act out against my friend. But his solution wasn’t what I wanted…”

“No,” Martin said softly, finishing for the general. “He passed the powers to me.”

“You are a freak, Martin Santer,” Terk growled. “One that shouldn’t have powers. I knew I couldn’t outright kill you. Killing the Santer line would result in killing the land. So I merely sought out a way to stop your powers.”

“The Inhibitor,” Martin sighed, everything suddenly making sense. Terk didn’t like things rising above their places. Mortals who could affect the land, all land, fell into that category.

“So I invaded Aeterna shortly before Bert’s death and your birth, for the sole purpose of getting you. The Inhibitor was placed and I knew it had worked,” Terk said, grinning. “Sara was born without powers.” His expression darkened again, glaring at him. “But I didn’t have you in my possession, like I planned. I would have returned you, once I knew the block worked. But the pirates double crossed me and I lost you.”

“Sir,” said a solider Martin couldn’t see. “The mage would like a word.”

“Very well,” Terk said to the soldier. Turning back, the general grinned. “It’s nothing personal, Santer. I just don’t want the land to rip itself apart. Goodnight.” He slammed the door of the small window, leaving Martin in the dark.

“Huh,” Martin mused, leaning his back against the stone wall. The conversation was defiantly enlightening. He suspected that Terk had kidnapped him for a reason, and that reason wasn’t because he was the crown prince and he had just lost a war.

I should feel something, he thought, waiting for his eyes to grow adjusted to the dark. Angry, sad… something. He knew it was the Spirit. It wasn’t just holding back whatever depression he had; it was suppressing all of his emotions. He had work to do and his emotions would be getting in the way.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he reached into his pocket and got out his lock picks. They really should have frisked him when they had a chance. He made quick work of the shackles. Once he was free, he walked to the door and listened closely. There were two guards outside, judging from the conversation outside. He couldn’t quite make it out, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he knew they were there.

Martin tried to open himself to the emotions, but found nothing. Of course, he thought, kneeling down and looking at the lock from the inside, they’ve Inhibited me again. Terk probably figured that he would be lost without his powers.

He was a foolish man, thinking like that.

Martin carefully examined the lock. It was embedded in the door and just as accessible from the inside as it was from the outside. A problem that he really should address to Gerlend about later; any fool with the right tools and knowledge could get out. Using his lock picks, he carefully unlocked the door so that it didn’t click loudly once open. Sure that the guards outside noticed nothing, he stood back up. Now for the fun part.

BANG!

Martin kicked the door open. It swung hard and hit one of the guards, knocking him out cold. The other guard fumbled to get his spear into position when Martin hit the man on the neck, hitting the nerve that immediately rendered him unconscious. It was all over in less than a minute.

These men are also wearing Aeternan uniforms, Martin noticed, debating what his next move should be. He needed to get out of the mansion and the best way for that was to go unnoticed. The mansion laundry was the next floor up, he knew. Surely he could filch his own size. Leaving the men sprawled in the hall, he dashed away. He couldn’t rely on his powers to warn him of others coming, so he had done a lot of ducking into unused rooms until he finally reached the laundry.

Not even fifteen minutes after his escape, he walked out of the laundry, dressed in a blue Aeternan uniform of a lieutenant, a hat casting shadows over his face. Adopting a purposeful stride, he walked out of the mansion. There were several other false Aeternans walking post, but they paid him no notice. They figured he was just another Venter soldier, doing some errand for an officer. When he was outside, he saw that it was dark. Perhaps midnight? Later?

Sure that no one was following him, Martin walked into the small forest. He was sure that Terk would have set up some magical barrier to keep people from entering or leaving the mansion without his permission. However, there was a small Aeternan tradition most people ignored.

Martin came to the short wall that surrounded the Grelend estates. Aeternan tradition dictated that an oak tree had to be planted at least once near the outer wall of every fort, mansion, or otherwise enclosed area. It was a tradition that had been in place when Fort Marrow was magically buried. The only reason those inside were saved was because of the spy who had planted an oak tree in the courtyard. Oaks were magical trees and could resist magical attack. It was that same oak that still stood over the fort, a place the spy’s called the Tree. His home of the last eight years.

The oak he came to was no where near as large as the one standing over the Tree, perhaps only thirty years old. But that didn’t matter. It was taller than the wall, its branches reaching over the wall. Taking a deep breath, Martin climbed the oak, not daring to look down. The Spirit may be suppressing his emotions, but he didn’t think that it would be able to suppress his fear of heights. When he started to crawl on a branch over the wall, he shivered. He could feel the magic, cold and dragging, trying to keep him from moving forward. But the magic of the oak was older, stronger. He gasped in air the moment he was past the barrier.

Dropping to the ground, he glanced around the outside of the wall. There were no patrols and it seemed that he was on the edge of the town, a few large houses of merchants near by. That meant that the army was close.

Martin ran off. The sooner he warned Bentley of what happened, the sooner he could return to his depression.
***********
“What?” Terk roared, knocking over the table he was sitting at, spilling his very late dinner across the room. “What do you mean? Escaped!”

“I’m afraid so, my lord,” said the sorry looking soldier, bowing his head. “When we went to change the guards, they were knocked unconscious. A search has been issued, but no news yet.”

Terk went to hit the unfortunate soldier, but managed to keep his hand back. He instead whipped around to the mage, a short stocky man with limp dull hair. He too had been enjoying the meal until just now.

“Can you still block him?” Terk demanded to know. “Can you make that block permanent without him?”

“Yes,” the mage replied, flinching. “But it will take longer. A week at the least without the prince here.”

Terk turned his back on both of them, fuming. “Very well,” he hissed, looking out into the night. “If he wants to play games, then let’s play. Inform everyone to keep searching for the prince. If they find him, bring him in, any force necessary short of killing him. He can’t get out of the grounds with the barrier up. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” The soldier left, no doubt feeling lucky that he had got away without any punishment. Terk could only smirk. He would save his anger for the prince. That one deserved a beating.
************
Commander Jim Bentley was sleeping peacefully when his aid woke him up. It took him a moment to get bearing of his surroundings. It was a tent, not his usual room at the mansion. There had been troubles in the outer army about how they felt neglected. He had decided to spend a few days among these men, learning of their moral and how to fix it.

“What is it?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He shivered a bit in the night air; it had started getting colder at night. A sign of fall coming.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” his aid said, fidgeting. The young man was still dressed in his nightshirt. “But someone is here to see you.”

“What’s wrong with seeing me in the morning?” Bentley snapped, half tempted to crawl back into bed. “It’s after midnight! Tell whoever it is that it will just have to wait until morning.” His eyes were already closing with sleep.

“I tried to tell him that, but he insisted,” the aid sighed. “He said you’d like to talk to him. Said his name is Martin Stevens…”

Jim blotted out of bed, wide awake. The Alex, here? What for? Last he knew was that Martin had been taking Sara to the outpost on the other side of Raven Pass. He wasn’t supposed to be here until afternoon. The spy wouldn’t be here without a good reason, however, and Jim refused to repeat his father’s mistake.

Outside his tent stood the spy, dressed in an Aeternan uniform and holding a hat in his hands. For the most part, the Alex looked fine, at least he didn’t look injured in any way. Even his military stance didn’t speak of any danger, but… This was the Alex, trained to be calm and dismissed. He could probably be dying from a gut wound and they wouldn’t know it.

“Ghost Stevens,” Bentley said formally, even though the Alex wore an Aeternan uniform of lieutenant ranking. “This is a surprise.”

“My appearance here is not the surprise,” the Alex said in a dull tone, as if he were giving the most boring report in the world. “Terk has taken the mansion over and is currently holding everyone inside hostage.”

Bentley blinked. “What?” Surely he heard wrong.

“Terk and a small arms have taken over the mansion,” he repeated, still in that unconcerned tone. “I suspect that they took over with the changing of the guards today.”

“I ordered no such change.”

Martin shrugged. “That does not matter. There was a change of guards. Your guards have been replaced by the enemy and they are currently holding everyone inside captive.”

Bentley started pacing, fighting to keep his panic down. There would only be one reason why Terk would take the mansion. The Mad General was after the prince. He froze.

“The prince?” he asked, hesitantly. “Did he find the prince?” The only reason why Terk would invade was if he knew how to find the prince.

“The prince is safe for the moment,” the Alex said, flinching. “But I don’t know how long that safety will last.”

“Hubert!” Bentley snapped. His aid came to attention, saluting.

“Yes sir!”

“Rouse the commanders,” he ordered. “Get the war tent ready. We’ve got to plan an invasion.”

“What should I tell them that we’re invading?” the aid asked, shooting a curious glance at the Alex. He was probably wondering what this “lieutenant” had reported.

“The mansion, Hubert. We’re invading the mansion.”
*************
The pale morning light of the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon and the commanders were still arguing about how to invade the mansion. Bentley wanted to scream in frustration. While he was in charge of security of the mansion, outside he had very little authority. He was, as the older commanders kept calling him, a newbie. Did it matter to them that he had learned under some of the greatest military minds of their armies? No. Did it matter that he had already fought several battles in this war? No. He was the newbie who needed to be told how to invade a single mansion. Besides, the enemy took the mansion under his watch. Obviously he didn’t know anything.

When they had been gathered, the Alex introduced himself, getting many shocked looks. He explained the situation at the mansion and the strength of the enemy. When it was asked how he managed to escape, he was a bit vague on the details.

“It doesn’t matter how I escaped,” he said. “It will not be helpful to you.”

Now, having spent half the night arguing, they still had no plan to take the mansion back. Yawning, Jim accepted the piece of toast the camp kitchen had sent over. There were three other commanders, older men who had fought under King Bret. Each man was a bit different on how they thought to take over the mansion. Each idea, he could see, had its benefits, but none of them really could work. One plan forgot about the magic barrier. Another placed the hostages in danger. The last involved the most bloodshed.

You’d think that they would know how to work with each other, Bentley thought, munching on his toast. While these men weren’t the greatest of Aeterna’s military minds, they were still good commanders and followed after the great generals. Rolling his eyes as they brought up another topic that they had once dismissed, he glanced around the command tent and spotted the Alex sitting by himself.

The poor man was asked to stay, to answer any questions that he might have missed in his report. He looked dead to their arguing, yawning as he also accepted a piece of toast from the kitchen helper. Shaking his head, Bentley stood up and walked over to the spy. The other commanders wouldn’t notice if he had a quiet conversation with the Alex. The spy didn’t look up when he approached and knelt down next to him.

“When was the last time you slept?” Bentley asked, noticing the bags under the spy’s eyes.

“Um,” he said, the first hesitance he had seen in the spy since meeting him. “I, uh, woke up yesterday morning… Terk had me knocked out for a little bit, but I don’t think that’d count as a restful sleep.”

Bentley frowned. The Alex had failed to mention that he had an encounter with the Mad General. “Then go get some rest,” he said, smiling a bit. No doubt the spy would do whatever it took to free those in the mansion. Bravery and loyalty had a time and place, but there were limits. “You need some rest. I don’t think they’ll miss you if you go take a nap.”

“I can’t go to sleep,” the Alex sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Of course you can,” Bentley tried to encourage. “You deserve a nap. Besides, you can’t help us if you’re half asleep when we are ready to attack.”

“No,” Martin said, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I can’t fall asleep.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

The Alex sighed. “If I fall asleep I will be of no use to you.” He held up a hand when he was going to protest. “I am sure that you’ll wake me up if you need me, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He took a deep breath. “I should be so thoroughly depressed right now that I shouldn’t be able to function, little alone have escaped and warned you. But they’re,” this word he spat out, “keeping my depression back and I get it back the moment I fall asleep. And they won’t let me sleep until I see this through. I’m glad that you’re concerned for me, but I just can’t sleep now.” He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “They won’t let me.”

“They?” Bentley asked, suddenly more worried. Taking a closer look at the spy, he realized there was something wrong. Something in his eyes, his eyes were as dead as any man could get without being dead. It made him shiver; he had seen too many men with that look before giving up. “Were you poisoned? A new poison that’s the opposite of Nightmare Dust? It keeps you awake during your nightmares?”

Martin chuckled, the first emotion he had seen in the spy since arriving. “No. I’m not poisoned. And the enemy has nothing to do with my lack of sleep. You’ll understand when we get the mansion back.”

“That wasn’t a vague answer at all,” Bentley snorted. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Martin glanced at the arguing commanders. “You’ll know later, I promise. After we take the mansion back.”
**************
After they take the mansion back. Now doesn’t that sound ominous? I hope I’ve shaken everyone up with the last post, by the way. What seemed like a plot moving right along has suddenly taken an unexpected turn. Where is the new direction going to take Martin? Well, you’re just going to have to keep on reading.

Until next week, enjoy the journey!