Chapter 7
Duncan stood beside the Pelius, studying the city of Avion spread before them like some sort of glinting, multi-layered sculpture. They certainly don't waste any space here, he thought as his gaze went up, up, up until it finally came to rest on the highest aerie in his field of vision. The king and his party stood by the wind walkers awaiting the escort who would take them from Gateway, the glorified customs hall, to the home of Lord Stratos. The escort was not for their safety but rather for the safety of the populace. Nothing so large, coarse and dangerous as a wind walker could be allowed to fly the heavily trafficked skyways of Avion.
The party was not patient. Randor least of all, but there was nothing they could do but wait.
The trip to the city in the clouds had been, after the incident with the butterflies over the Vine Jungle, disturbingly uneventful. Even their passage through the Eye of Zarkane had presented no problems. Duncan feared that Skeletor and his minions, if not coming after the king, must then be planning attacks against Castle Grayskull, the Palace or both. To judge by the tension radiating from Randor, the king shared his concerns.
Duncan wanted to reassure his friend, but it seemed an unwise thing to attempt, since any reassurances he could offer would be blatantly false, and Randor could not but know it. We give entirely too many hostages to fortune these days, he pondered. Quests were easier to bear when we had no children and wives to leave behind. Not that I have a wife, but Randor does.
Duncan had been both discomfited and moved when the king and queen had made their poignant goodbyes in his presence. When Marlena had hugged him and instructed him to take care of himself as well as Randor, Duncan had been positively mortified. The day she finds out that I've been lying to her for years is going to be one of the worst days of my life. Duncan sighed slowly, dragging the exhalation out, clearing the only dead air he could clear. Families are... inconvenient. So why don't I seem to be able to get by without one these days?
"Something wrong, Man-At-Arms?" Mekanek asked.
"Just tired. You?"
"Bored," Mekanek replied instantly. "I wish we could just get on with it. This delay is, well, boring... and frustrating... and-"
"I know," said Duncan. "I'm worried too."
"Yeah," Mekanek agreed sadly. "That kid better be there when we get back."
"Not to mention the palace," Duncan added in what, to judge by Mekanek's expression, was not a heartening afterthought.
"Gee, Man-At-Arms," Mekanek said in his best impersonation of Adam squabbling with Teela. "You're such a comfort to have around. Why, without you here, I might be positively optimistic."
Duncan gave his long-necked comrade a raised-eyebrow stare and quipped, "I suppose you might even say I was a pain in the neck. Mightn't you?" Mekanek groaned and stomped away muttering about army sergeants and what they became when they got old and decrepit.
"Well," said Randor coming to stand beside him, "you distracted him very neatly."
"Thank you, Sire." Duncan replied deadpan. "I try to be of service... even if I am old and decrepit."
"If you are, so am I," Randor said, smiling in a self-deprecating fashion. "Great adventures are for the young, not old men like us..." The king's words trailed off and he stared in into the far distance seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Just when Duncan started to move away, to go remind Ram-Man of some of the finer points of etiquette in Avion, Randor spoke once more. "So, how old do you suppose He-Man really is?"
Jaw hanging open, Duncan stared in trepidation in the king. This is not a conversational topic I want to explore! He closed his mouth with a snap.
Randor continued, apparently choosing to regard Duncan's silence as shared interest. "He is certainly a most responsible and heroic young man, and there is no doubt that physically he appears to be an adult. And yet..."
Of all times for Randor to get curious! Why can't he just accept that He-Man was sent by the Elders to help Eternia and leave it alone? Why does he have to worry about everything? Silly question. Why else did the Elders choose him to be king?
"At times I have surprised a certain expression on his face that, well, reminds me more of Adam or Teela than of a seasoned Warrior."
Adam! He's getting far too close to the truth here. Far too close. "I –" Duncan tried to interrupt, to get the king off this dangerous tangent but Randor just marched onward, oblivious to his friend's barely suppressed panic.
"I don't imagine you know how old he is, Duncan? Do you?" The king's cobalt eyes regarded him curiously.
"I –"
"You've certainly worked with him more often than any of the rest of us."
"Sire," Duncan barely managed to restrain himself from shouting, "how long have you been thinking about this?" And how suspicious are you?
"Oh, from time to time. You must admit, He-Man is a puzzle." The king watched his man-at-arms closely, disconcertingly intent on his friend's reaction.
How many times can you lie to your king before it officially qualifies as treason? Duncan wondered in growing alarm. I bet Stratos would know, and I have an uncomfortable feeling I've already crossed that line. Duncan searched his conscience futilely for an answer that would neither involve lying to his king nor whetting the man's appetite. "Randor," he finally asked, "does he look like an adolescent?"
"No. However-"
"Does it matter to you how old he is?" The king opened his mouth to reply, closed it again and then tilted his head to the side, pondering the question. Duncan surged onward, trying to keep the momentum he'd finally stolen from his monarch. "If He-Man is twenty-five or eighty-five, does it matter? Does it really make any difference?"
"Perhaps... " Randor replied. "Perhaps it does. If he's a juvenile –" The king broke off his speculation as a shadow fell over both men. Their escort had arrived at last. The fellow had with him suitable transport, in the form of small float chairs, for landers traveling the skyways of Avion. "We shall continue this conversation at a later time," Randor stated as he stepped forward to greet their escort.
Wonderful, Duncan thought tiredly. That's just was Prince Adam needs, to be healed in time for his father to realize he's He-Man. The Sorceress will not be pleased.
The party from Eternos made its way to the aerie that was Stratos' home with sufficient grace not to embarrass themselves overly much despite Ram-Man's mishap with his float chair and a wall. The wall, to Duncan immense relief, was still standing and their escort managed to catch Ram-Man long before he would have hit the valley floor beneath them. The escort, who turned out to be a cousin of Stratos' by the name of Cumelius, deposited them on the walkway round the aerie without the slightest hint of censure or amusement, but he departed suspiciously quickly.
Watching Cumelius go, his flight illuminated by amber rays of the setting sun, Randor said only, "Hopefully, descriptions of this incident will not reach Lord Stratos until after our departure. Our dear Avion sometimes shows a deplorable taste for low humor."
Duncan huffed, but did not otherwise respond. Randor was showing his own taste for "low" humor. Low humor indeed. Might as well call it high humor this far above the valley floor.
The party was almost to the entrance of Stratos' home, Mekanek craning his neck to look over the lip of the raised walkway while Ram-Man walked as far from each edge as he could manage, when a familiar figure streaked toward them. He was not alone. Beside him flew his sister Hawke, who ran the city while Stratos danced attendance upon the royal family in Eternos.
"My king!" Stratos called, soaring toward them, jets firing. "My King! I have found it! I have found the map to the Snow Gryphon's lair!" Duncan observed the Avion, still some distance away, in stunned amazement. So quickly? Next to him, Randor tensed, preparing to run to the exuberant messenger. Which would be a bad idea since most of the thoroughfares here consist of open sky. Duncan laid a restraining hand on the king's arm.
"He'll come to us, Sire." Randor gave him the sardonic glance of someone who is being mothered and knows it, but he did not dart forward to meet Stratos as Duncan knew he must wish to do. Instead, the king of Eternia walked in a most decorous – frustratingly slow – manner in this, the home city of one of his most trusted vassals; the locals must needs be impressed with King Randor's dignity. After all, even when his son is dying, a monarch should always maintain his poise. We'd better get out of here soon, Duncan thought uneasily. They may be impressed with stern, angry, determined Randor, but worried, dismayed, gloomy Randor is not likely to inspire confidence.
After a few relativisticly long seconds, Stratos and Hawke reached them. The winged warrior was so eager to share his auspicious tidings that, for once, he neglected to bow in the presence of his king. "Sire, I have it!" The Avion flourished a tasseled scroll before them and began to expostulate in frenzied manner. "When last I beheld the Snow Gryphon, my curiosity was enflamed, and I delved deeply into the lore of the creature. Unhappily, allusions to the Snow Gryphon were in no way abundant. For many months I scoured the ancient archives and histories of Avion. In the course of this voyage of discovery, I lit upon a reference to the abode of –"
Finally unable to bear it any longer, Ram-Man erupted. "What in the world are you talking about?!" he bellowed. Stratos' monologue ground to a screeching halt. Every being within one hundred meters, feathered or no, turned to gawp at their lord and the strange landers with which he kept company. A mortified silence reigned. Even Ram-Man seemed oppressed by the weight of the eyes upon them. Only Hawke laughed, turning her head aside so that her red hair nearly obscured her face.
At last it was Stratos, normally the most decorous of their group, who broke the embarrassed silence with a hearty chortle. "Come, come," he said. "Come to my home. Let me show you what I have unearthed."
"But what was he talking about?" Ram-Man protested piteously as the king walked off with Lord of Avion and his deputy.
"He's talking about the place where the Snow Gryphons live," said an exasperated Mekanek, who still looked as if he wished his head could retract all the way inside his chest. "It sounds like he's found it."
