Rated M again for violence. Double update today - if you're lost in the story, you may have skipped a chapter. Also, I do not own the MOTU trademark or any of its delightful characters. Credit goes to Mattel for its imaginative action figures. Lady Amanda is a minor character briefly mentioned in the Filmation series of the 1980s, not my invention.
Gently, I bring my Sky Sled to the ground, surrounded by the gasping, surprised cheers of my crew. I lean forward and put my head down for a minute to catch my breath and clear my head. Randor steps away, and I can hear him talking to the others, checking to see if they're all right. Then it all becomes suddenly quiet. When I finally look up, there's a circle of archers around us, bows drawn, weapons pointed straight at us. And they're closing in.
Randor and the others put their hands up without saying anything. But I scan this ragtag group of woodsmen, hoping for a friendly welcome: half of them are women, and their leader is a very round woman dressed in expensive-looking gear. Her bow is one of a kind, hand-carved, bejeweled. The woman's face is partially hidden behind a helmet, but I recognize her style. It's Lady Amanda, of course, and this campsite where we've landed is on her property.
I take a step toward Amanda, lift off my goggles, and stretch out my arms as a sign of peace. "Lady Amanda, it is I, Queen Marlena. Some of our crew are injured, we need your assistance. Randor and I have just -"
"Stop right there, or we'll shoot. How do I know you're really the queen?" Amanda interrupts - suspicious, aloof, cold. I'm not even sure that she's on our side anymore. Or if she ever was. Out of the corner of my eye, I can tell that Randor is calculating how many archers he can take down single-handedly to give the rest of us time to escape.
"I - Amanda - please -"
"If you truly are Queen Marlena, what question did you ask me the last time we spoke? Only the queen would know that." Amanda takes off her helmet, and smirks at me triumphantly. Her hair is simply pinned back, her lovely oval face is flushed and fresh. It's the first time I've ever seen her without full make-up and an elaborate hairdo.
I balk at her suggestion. It was a few months ago when I spoke with her, but I remember perfectly well what I said to her then. "You don't want me to repeat that now in front of everyone, do you?" I ask.
"Of course I do," she answers in a superior tone. "I don't have any secrets, unlike some members of the royal family."
Now I recall why I've always disliked Amanda. So I straighten up and say, "At the banquet of the spring festival, I asked you how likely it was that your husband was the father of your unborn child." There's a collective gasp. Randor turns sharply and looks at me, scandalized. My eyes are locked onto Amanda's.
But the archers still don't stand down. Amanda smiles and continues, "And what was my response to that?"
I reply, "You said it was the same probability that Randor had fathered my children."
Immediately, Amanda gives a signal to her archers, and they lower their weapons. The noble lady bows profoundly to us and her team follows suit. "Welcome, Your Majesties," she says. "We are at war, and I had to be sure you were not impostors. Come, let us help you up to the house to treat your wounds and de-brief. Everything I have is at your disposal."
Three of the archers have already lifted Yankee out of the Wind Raider, and are heading across a wide lawn to a ridiculously pink rococo manor house - it stands at the edge of the forest like a monumental birthday cake. The flag pole on the roof sticks up like a birthday candle.
Amanda links one arm in mine and the other in Randor's uninjured arm, and she talks non-stop all the way up to the house. I guess we're besties now, after years of thinly veiled hostility. She tells me all the details of organizing the refugee camp on her land, how her house is now a hospital and community center, how the city of Eternos was evacuated just before another invasion wave destroyed it and the palace, how Teela and He-Man subsequently managed to destroy the invading army…
"Pardon me, Lady Amanda," interrupts Randor, "Is Adora here? And what is the news from the front?" He keeps his voice steady, but I can tell he's on edge, from both pain and anxiety.
"At last count, there were three fronts, Your Majesty," answers Amanda. "The northern front is being defended by the Ice Lord, King Boreas, and of course, Princess Janice and her dragons. The southern front is our weakest point, only lightly defended against the mer-creatures. At Grayskull, our people are holding the castle under siege, but they in turn are being besieged by the minions of Count Marzo. I just sent a medevac unit to them an hour ago…ah, here we are, triage is on the main level, but we can bypass that, I'll take you straight upstairs to see the healers." We enter the ornate home through the back door, a servants' entrance, into the kitchens. Various people start to approach Amanda, but she waves them all away.
Randor and I both notice the information that she omitted. He looks at me before firmly venturing, "Lady, Amanda, my dear, I must know where my daughter is."
We stop at the foot of the servants' staircase. Amanda turns toward Randor and bows her head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I have no news of Adora. I sent the medevac to Grayskull for her. It has not yet returned."
Randor's instinct is to run back to the Sky Sled, and fly to Grayskull. But I block him before he can take a single step. "No. You're going to get that shoulder fixed, and then we'll go to Grayskull together," I tell him. My voice and my heart are blazing with fear and determination. We have a ten-second faceoff, then Randor lets me take his good arm to lead him upstairs. He knows I'm right.
Lady Amanda shows us to a small bedroom suite off the main upstairs hallway. I'm beginning to think that I've misjudged her all these years….or maybe not. It's not so easy to forgive someone like Amanda.
Randor winces and takes in his breath sharply as we settle him into a chair. He's been trying to cover up his level of pain this whole time. After making sure we have everything we need, Lady Amanda politely excuses herself so that she can summon a healer.
Alone with my husband, I remove his helmet and begin toweling off the thin layer of dust on his skin - gently. His arm is supported on a side table, and the lack of movement seems to be a relief to him.
Randor hesitates as if measuring his words carefully. "Marlena, my dear, we need Amanda's family on our side. We can't stir up - "
"I'm not stirring up anything!" I exclaim defensively. "You're the one who gave her a dishonorable discharge from the Royal Guard!"
"I had no choice! She got into a public brawl with the pregnant wife of a lieutenant! It was the only way to calm things down! She was our best archery instructor - I didn't want to dismiss her!" He keeps his voice low, but now Randor is the defensive one. This is a ridiculous debate.
"Take a deep breath, darling. You know as well as I do that drama follows Amanda everywhere. And you know as well as I do that this is really about the connection between our families." I arch an eyebrow, and Randor deflates, resigned, conceding the argument. "We will make sure that Amanda receives the recognition she deserves for her generosity here. I have no quarrel with her or her family." I kiss Randor on the cheek and whisper, "After all, I should be thanking her grandmother for all the tricks she taught you thirty years ago."
Just then, the healer enters the room and takes charge. Randor's dislocated shoulder pops back into place, and the primary wound on his upper arm is treated. Both of us are covered in dozens of smaller scratches and scrapes, but while the healers are busy with him, I seize the opportunity to sort through our backpacks - food in one, maps and strategic materials in a second, rappelling supplies in a third, explosives and weapons in another. I pull out the bottle of poison from Skeletor's lab, and wonder what to do with it. Gingerly opening the lid, I see that it has a brush attached inside. So I pull my miniature dagger out from my shirtsleeve and my hunting knife out from my boot, and coat both blades in a thin layer of the deadly solution. It dries quickly. Then I tuck my improved weapons back into their sheaths.
Resealing the bottle tightly, I hand it to a healer's assistant, and ask for it to be delivered to Amanda, for her archers. The assistant appears so taken aback when she realizes what it is, that, for a second, I'm afraid she'll drop it!
Even though Randor's arm still isn't 100% healed, he's itching to leave as soon as it gets wrapped up in gauze. So we slip back down the servants' staircase and out the rear door, toward our Sky Sled. I have one backpack loaded with all of our remaining explosives - everything else stays in camp - and we munch on a few rations as we move. Even though it's broad daylight, no one pays much attention to us - we look like a pair of grubby soldiers, and that suits us just fine.
Before we lift off, I ask my husband, "OK, General, what exactly is our mission? Retrieve the princess? Or is there something else?"
We both know there's something else.
"The Prophecies of the Elders," Randors begins, "Namely, the one that says justice will be restored in Eternia, and the Spirit of Grayskull will have its vengeance on its enemy."
"I guess we have a mission then," I say as we rise above the treetops on our Sky Sled. "Now we just need a plan." Randor chuckles softly and holds me tight.
As we fly, I wonder if we can shorten the trip, so I call out to Teela, hoping she'll open another portal for us. But none appears. After my second try, I hear her voice inside my head: Go back to camp. Wait with Amanda.
That command only makes me more determined to get to Grayskull as quickly as possible. We leave the forest behind, fly past the smoking rubble of our once-beautiful city, through rich farmland and into the rolling hills beyond. We have to wind through a rocky maze before the wide stretch of the Barren Plain that leads to Grayskull. I don't want to increase altitude too much, because it's to our advantage to hide among the rocks and foothills.
Unfortunately, we're not the only ones using the terrain as cover. As we emerge from a narrow canyon, our Sky Sled is rammed violently on the side by a Roton that seemed to come out of nowhere. Randor and I are both thrown off.
Mid-air, I'm asking myself, Is this an accident, or did they track us along the whole route?
Then I smack down hard among the boulders, and I'm too dazed to pull out a weapon. I can hear some oofs and scuffling, but can't see much. Then there are boots right next to me, and a second pair of boots comes up from behind to attack the owner of the first boots. After another brief struggle, the second pair of boots collapses beside me, and I see that it's my husband who has fallen while defending me. The will to live awakens deep within me.
Someone or something leans over me, and starts to lift me up. While I'm in that awkward position that is neither up nor down, I pull the mini-dagger out of my sleeve and sink it into the hip of Whiplash, one of Skeletor's mutant warriors. He screeches and goes down in convulsions. I slip the bloody dagger right back in its sheath.
So I rush to Randor's side - he's slowly regaining consciousness. Red welts are striped across his face and neck - Whiplash must have been using his tail to strangle him. He's not in any shape to escape. And then two more pairs of boots are beside us. I'm yanked backwards with both of my arms clamped painfully in a pair of claws.
"Did you see that, Tri? First the big one tried to defend this boy, then the boy protected his father here. We should execute them before they cause more trouble. Who do you suppose they are, fighting like that?" The speaker is my captor, Clawful, another of Skeletor's mutants.
I watch helplessly as Tri-Klops hog-ties and gags Randor. Tri-Klops is definitely the most intelligent of Skeletor's men - it will be difficult to outsmart him. He takes his time before responding to Clawful, "Eternia only has a few specimens like this man. I suspect," he says thoughtfully, lifting one of Randor's eyelids and doing some type of iris scan, "that Skeletor will want us to bring back King Randor alive."
"King?" says a surprised Clawful, who tightens his grip on me.
Standing up, Tri-Klops then inspects me. I try not to react as Tri-Klops sticks his hand between my legs and starts rubbing my crotch. "And this," he continues, "Is certainly not a boy, but the one lady whom Randor would gladly defend with his life. Good day, milady."
He's still fingering my crotch. So I spit in his face and knee him in the groin with everything I've got. Doubled over in pain, Tri-Klops balls up a fist. He returns to his full height, and his fist slams down on my helmet. I hear a ringing sound, and then everything goes black.
Just a few more chapters, and the story will be complete...patience, dear readers!