THE FACE OF MY ENEMY
Skeletor watched in glee as his enemy lay on the ground, tossing and turning in a fevered state. Whatever it was that Evil-Lyn had infected the muscle-bound cretin with, it certainly worked fast. He-Man would undoubtedly be dead before nightfall.
He should go on to the Oracle of the Ice Mountains and take the Wish Gem—it was why he and the hero of Eternia were out here in the first place. But he was having so much fun watching He-Man fight for his life—and once he was dead, who would be able to stop him from doing whatever he wished?
So he kept watch over the strong man, waiting for him to take his last breath.
He-Man's head thrashed about, his face flushed and sweating. "Mother—" he gasped.
Skeletor's ears pricked up at that. He-Man has a mother? He thought. Well, of course he did. Everybody did. Skeletor had just never considered it before. He waited to see if the dying man would say more, but he had fallen silent again, save for shuddering moans of pain.
Nobody to save you now, muscle man. The illness was one concocted by magic, Evil-Lyn had told him. The Sorceress wasn't around, and Skeletor certainly had no intentions of using his powers to cure He-Man.
But he was strong, and he might hold out for a long while. Skeletor settled himself down for a lengthy wait.
The sun had moved far across the sky when it began.
Lightning started to flash—but not from the sky.
From He-Man.
Skeletor didn't quite understand what was going on—he'd never seen anything like it.
The lightning sparked around the man's restless form, surrounding him. Curiosity got the better of Skeletor—he put a hand out to touch.
The shock burned its way up his arm, knocking him backwards. Such power!
It was the power of Grayskull—and Skeletor instinctively knew that it was trying to leave He-Man, escape the dying flesh. Not much longer now…
The bright flashing increased in intensity, becoming an incredible display for several moments. He-Man cried out, curling into a tight ball.
The light swallowed him whole and exploded. Skeletor flung his arm up over his eyes.
The radiance faded. Skeletor kept his eyes shielded for a moment longer, just to be safe. He heard labored breathing coming from where He-Man had been…but it sounded—different. He slowly lowered his arm and looked back to his adversary.
A man—in the fetal position that He-Man assumed just moments before—lay there. But it wasn't He-Man. The hair was a paler shade of blond, this man seemed a bit smaller somehow…and he wore a pink vest with purple leggings…this was all too familiar. Skeletor's heart leapt into his mouth. It couldn't be…
…He reached out and gripped the man's shoulder, rolling him onto his back. The invalid's head rolled limply to face Skeletor. A familiar face—one Skeletor saw all too often. Not just in the present, but in his own youth, when that same face had stared at him every day from a mirror.
Prince Adam.
Skeletor's mind shut down. He couldn't think about what this meant—it was too damned impossible.
He looked again. It was still the prince of Eternia. Randor's boy.
"So it was you all this time," he murmured, idly brushing damp flaxen locks from the boy's heated forehead.
Does Randor know? He wondered. He considered all the reports of tension between the king and the prince his spies sent back. His stiff-necked, self-righteous brother never could lie—so that was Skeletor's answer to his question.
His spies, however, hadn't ever reported this. Apparently the prince of Eternia was remarkably skilled at deception. You take after your uncle more than you'd care to know, boy.
Then a small voice, one he'd thought long gone, asked, Do you still mean to let him die?
His being my nephew changes nothing, Skeletor answered viciously. He's still my enemy. And better yet, Randor's heir—his only one, with Adora still missing all these years. He could literally kill two birds with one stone.
It will break Marlena's heart.
The unbidden image of Marlena, weeping for her daughter, filled Skeletor's mind. He tried to push the thought away from him—serve her right, for only having eyes for Randor.
You didn't tell her how you felt—and Randor did.
Shut up! He told the voice. It fell silent.
Adam's head turned, his body contorted, and he cried out in pain—Skeletor couldn't bear to watch. It was too much like reliving his transformation to his current form.
He couldn't possibly live much longer—Adam was physically weaker than He-Man was. Without the Power of Grayskull in him…
Skeletor stared again into the face that had once been his own. His nephew was almost a carbon copy of himself at that age. Did they tell you anything about your Uncle Keldor, I wonder?
Probably not. Or if they did, it would have been carefully edited and glossed over—they wouldn't want the boy to get any ideas and follow in his footsteps.
But in an ironic way, the youngster had. Both of them, warriors, who tapped into unbelievable power—and lying about their true selves on a daily basis. It would be so much fun to torment the champion of Eternia with those parallels.
Skeletor studied his brother's son carefully. His breathing was shallow and uneven. He picked up the boy's wrist and after several moments, finally found a weak pulse. He'd be gone from this world soon—if somebody didn't stop this.
He held onto the limb for a longer moment than necessary. It'd be easier for him if he let Adam die. No heir to the throne, no champion of Eternia. Nobody to stand in his way.
But what fun would that be, now that he had something to torture the younger man with?
With only a slight moment's hesitation, he placed his hand over Adam's heart.
"Adam."
The prince of Eternia heard a strange voice call his name. Why was this person shouting in his ear? "Too loud," he mumbled, opening his eyes a crack—he could see a dark shadow leaning over him, blotting out the too-bright colors of the landscape. He let his eyes open wider. The shadow slowly cleared to the form of a man, wearing blue and purple. The face looked so familiar—it was one Adam had seen so many times in older family portraits—
"Uncle Keldor," he murmured. He closed his burning eyes again, missing the surprised look on the older man's face. Adam took a long, painful breath and opened his eyes again, looking into his uncle's. "Am I going to die?" Yes, he must be ready to depart this life—and his long-dead uncle was here to escort him to the next world…
His almost-double looked tentative for a moment, then said, "No, boy. I'm here to help you." His uncle's blessedly cool hands brushed across his forehead, then trailed down to his chest, over his weakening heart. He paused and said, "This is going to hurt."
"S'okay," Adam whispered. "I trust you." Another shocked look crossed Keldor's face. This time, Adam saw it, but he hurt too much to care.
"You shouldn't, you know," he answered. "I was…gone, before you knew me…" but Adam was past hearing him.
It was now or never. Skeletor summoned up his magic….
…Adam's scream echoed off the mountains. His arm flailed out, hitting Skeletor in the chest and nearly knocking him away. Skeletor grit his teeth and held on. Pretty good arm you've got there, given you're not He-Man at the moment!
He felt the poisonous magic seep from Adam's body. After an eternity, he could safely collapse.
He raised his head up from the ground to examine the prince. The breathing was strong and steady, his color looked good. He felt for the pulse in his neck—it beat lively under his fingers.
He would live.
After a long moment, Skeletor got to his feet. He stared down at the now-recuperating hero, then quietly took a dark-colored blanket from his bedroll and tucked it around the prince. No point in saving his sorry hide just to have him catch his death of cold up here.
He reached a hand up to touch his own face. The nails scraped against bone, as they had for longer than the young man before him had been alive. He stared at his sleeping nephew and started down the mountainside, the Wish Gem forgotten in the wake of more important matters.
The next day, at the Royal Palace
"Honestly, Adam!" Teela exploded. "Just what did you think you were doing up there? You're lucky we came down that way looking for He-Man or you would've frozen to death!"
"Shush, Teela," her father warned her. "He's still sick."
Teela looked at Adam's slightly flushed face and softened. "I'm sorry, Adam," she said sincerely. "Just don't scare me like that again!" On impulse, she leaned over and kissed her childhood friend on the cheek. "Get better fast—I've decided to add survival skills to your training!"
Adam gave a mock groan and looked beseechingly at Duncan. "Your daughter's trying to kill me," he complained good-naturedly.
Duncan and Teela laughed. "Out of here, young lady," Duncan jokingly ordered. "I won't have you terrorizing the patient."
"Men!" Teela replied, grinning as she obeyed her father.
The two men were finally alone in the sixteen hours that had gone by since Adam had been found on the mountain, shivering and weakened. Duncan settled himself carefully on the edge of Adam's bed. "We're going to have to answer her questions eventually," he remarked. "What were you doing up there? Last I'd seen, He-Man was going to track Skeletor. When neither of you showed up at the Oracle, we went looking and found Adam, and no sign of Skeletor. Care to tell what happened out there?"
Adam shook his head. "I wish I could, but I don't know for certain." He stopped to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Last thing I remember clearly is I'd caught up with Skeletor and challenged him. While we were fighting I became dizzy and fell down, and I heard Skeletor say that that I'd soon be dead. Maybe I defeated him and I don't remember it?"
Duncan nodded. "Possibly. We do know he's at Snake Mountain again, and our spies tell us he's brooding over something." He fixed the prince with a piercing stare. "It doesn't explain why we found Adam and not He-Man out there. And there's no trace of poison in you at all, lad. You've just got a bad cold from sleeping in the Ice Mountains all night with just a blanket. Where did that come from anyway?"
Adam went still for a moment, and in an undecided voice said, "I wasn't sure if I should tell you this…it might sound crazy." Adam looked him squarely in the eyes. "I don't know why I became Prince Adam again. I don't remember doing that." He suddenly went pale. "What if I did that in front of Skeletor?"
"I don't think that's likely, son," Duncan soothed, though truth to tell, that thought worried him as well. "It looks to me like after your confrontation with him, Skeletor left you there to die. It's certain if he found out the truth you wouldn't be here right now."
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. "You're probably right."
"The blanket and the poison?" Duncan prompted.
Adam picked at the edge of his bedsheets nervously. "I might have been hallucinating," he allowed, "but…I saw Uncle Keldor out there. He cured me of whatever it was Evil-Lyn had done. And then—" Adam spread his hands wide, "—he was gone."
Duncan stared at Adam, speechless. Keldor? His mouth went dry, but he managed to say, "Perhaps he did. The spirits of the dead oftentimes help those of us still here on the mortal plane." He put a hand on Adam's shoulder and squeezed warmly. "Get some sleep now. I'll think of something to tell Teela and your parents."
"Thanks," Adam replied, laying back against the pillows, eyelids already beginning to droop. "See you later—" he ended in a noisy yawn.
Duncan quietly left the prince's room, and strolled to the family gallery, stopping in front of the painting of the long-gone Keldor.
He and Randor had never spoken about Keldor ever since he disappeared, two years before Adam's birth. It was believed by all that Randor's younger brother had been killed in one of his dark magical experiments, but no body had ever been found. Out of misguided loyalty to his brother's memory, Randor had never spoken of what sort of man Keldor really was.
Not even when the rumors of Skeletor and Keldor first surfaced. They'd been easy to ignore—obviously a trick of Skeletor's to claim the throne, and quickly dismissed as such.
No. It wasn't possible.
But Adam had seen somebody out there with him…and somebody tucked that blanket around him.
What if…
A shiver of fear went up Man-At-Arm's spine.
THE END