Chapter 1
Mekanek gritted his teeth and stared contemptuously up at the Lord of Snake Mountain, determined to show neither pain nor fear. Trap Jaw's hold on his arms, pulled up and behind his back as they were, was excruciating, and it took every reserve of will that the Master had in him not to cry out. "So what's with the personal audience, Skeletor?" he asked wryly. "If you're gonna have your goons kill me, why not just do it outside, where I won't mess up the carpets?" Trap Jaw jerked on his arms, and Mekanek flinched despite his efforts to appear unmoved. He was bent nearly double now and the pain was tremendous. Not for the first time, the Master wished desperately for the removal of the collar that prevented his neck apparatus from working. More than that, he wished for the arrival of He-Man and the other Masters. But he had a funny feeling that help wasn't coming.
Sneering, enjoying the show, Skeletor rose from his snake-headed throne and descended regally to the Master's level. "Come, come, Mekanek, why should I wish to kill you when you are so much more use to me alive?" The Lord of Snake Mountain grinned, his dagger-tipped canines very much in evidence. His eyeless sockets flared briefly, and he turned a scorching glare on Trap Jaw. "Release him!"
The minion immediately complied. Mekanek stumbled forward, fighting to maintain his balance. Before he could right himself, Skeletor caught his chin in one claw-fingered hand and squeezed. The Master hissed, his hands instinctively going for the villain's throat. Skeletor shook him like a rag doll and laughed. "Uhn, uhn, uhh," he chided. "Play nice, or I won't give you your present."
Forced to his tiptoes by the villain's grip on his chin, Mekanek shifted his hands to Skeletor's arm, trying to take some of the weight off his currently vulnerable neck. He otherwise stopped struggling. "What present?" he snarled, curious despite himself and determined to buy all the time he could for help to arrive.
"That's better," Skeletor said remonstratively, sounding almost paternal. Then, turning his own head toward one of the throne room's rear entrances, he called out, "Beastman!" There was a strange, shuffling sound behind him. Then, before he could even wonder what it was that the mongrel was bringing into the room with him, Skeletor dragged him around so he could see for himself, releasing his jaw in the process.
Scowling, Mekanek searched out the hairiest of the minions with his eyes. "What does your dog have to show – "He broke off, stunned. For one endless moment, the world seemed to freeze. Skeletor, Trap Jaw, He-Man… they were all forgotten as the Master stared in rapt fascination at the short figure standing before Beastman. A child. His child. Phillip?
The child stared at him, seemingly frozen with terror. When Mekanek said nothing, did nothing… the boy wrapped his arms around himself and began to sniffle quite convincingly. The Master's heart seized up in his chest, but he would not be ten kinds of a fool. He would not! He shook his head. A trick. It had to be a trick. Some kind of simulacrum or it might even be Evil-Lyn in disguise. It couldn't possibly – this boy looked to be barely seven years of age, far too young to be his – He'd be so much older by now, Mekanek reasoned. It can't be him. It can't be –
"Daddy?" the boy asked, his lips trembling slightly as he stared at the helmeted figure beside the Lord of Snake Mountain. Clearly, Mekanek's voice had been familiar even if his visage had not.
For a time, Mekanek could find no air to breathe, then – "PHILLIP!" He screamed the name, darting forward and snatching the boy from Beastman's grip. Dashing to the farthest corner of the room, he clutched his son to him, overwhelmed just to be holding him again.
"Phillip…" he murmured the name into the boy's pale, blonde hair, reveling in the feel of the child's arms clasped tightly around his neck. He rubbed the boy's back soothingly as his son began to sob in earnest. "Oh, Phillip, I'm so sorry," he whispered. How could I ever have doubted him? Ancients above! It's him. It's my baby. He's here. He's really here. Rapidly pulling his helmet from his head, Mekanek cupped Phillip's cheeks in his hands and gently lifted his face. Blue eyes met brown ones for the first time in more than ten years. "I love you."
Phillip nodded, mouthed the words, and buried his face against his father's neck, not seeming to notice or care about the cybernetic nature of that appendage. Resting his head on the boy's hair, feeling as though he might burst from sheer joy, the Master hugged his son close. "Thank the Elders, you're safe," he whispered. "Thank the Elders."
His head jerked up with a snap as a hateful voice drawled, "Oh, the Elders really had very little to do with it." Grinning maniacally, Skeletor advanced upon them. "And you are both far from safe."
Leaping to his feet, Mekanek thrust Phillip behind him. He scanned the room, wishing desperately for a weapon, any weapon that he could hurl at the Lord of Snake Mountain to shatter that vile skull-faced smile. But even then, Phillip still wouldn't be safe, he thought, watching as Beastman approached them, keeping pace with Skeletor. His mind whirled. No. This is too cruel. I can't lose him now. They can't have done this just to take him away again? No!
Eyes still glassy with tears, the Master could feel his son huddled close behind him, trembling. Mekanek gazed, almost unseeing, at his tormentor. "Why?" he demanded. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Skeletor said nothing, merely continuing to advance, but Beastman snarled and licked his muzzle in an all too understandable fashion. Beastman sometimes eats the bodies of those he… The room spun dizzily as the Master heard the oddly distant sound of shrieking. It took perhaps five seconds for him to realize that he was the one screaming. No… begging. "I'll do anything!" he pleaded, pushing Phillip even more firmly into the corner behind him. "Anything at all! Please!"
Skeletor's advance halted. The Lord of Snake Mountain casually extended one arm at his side, and Beastman halted his forward movement as well. The mongrel huffed, looking sullen as stared hungrily at Mekanek and the child who was hunched up behind him. "Are you sure about that, Mekanek? Anything?"
"Yes!" the Master cried, unable to think about anything beyond saving his son. "I'll do anything!"
Skeletor's eyes flashed crimson fire. "Good. I assure you, what I want is very simple."
"Name it!" Mekanek shouted, never taking his eyes from Beastman's hungry face.
"A son for a son," Skeletor said calmly. "That's all."
Startled, the Master returned his gaze to the Lord of Snake Mountain. "What?" he asked, his brows knitting in puzzlement. "I don't understand."
"It's really very simple, Mekanek," Skeletor drawled. "I give you your son, and you give me Randor's son. That seems like a bargain to me."
The Master blinked, unable for a moment to fathom what was being asked of him. Then, suddenly, it sank in as a small voice behind him whispered, "Adam?"