Chapter Seventeen
Jarik stepped into the cavernous throne room and stopped when Tri-Klops gave a small nod. The dark pinks and purples of the connecting corridors had looked roughly chiselled as if hundreds of hard working hands had once carved them, but here, where the chamber opened up to dark blue-green stone that seemed to absorb more light than it reflected, the stone walls looked naturally formed. Ahead of him, almost completely cloaked in the shadow of the cavern he could see a tall throne made entirely of bones towering over all who approached it.
Sitting on the throne, eyes glowing red in the dark, the hooded figure was barely visible.
He knew instinctively that it was Skeletor; Lord of destruction, and his sworn enemy.
"I hear you wish to join us."
The voice carried a harsh, guttural undertone to its almost shrill sound, as if the vocal cords and the mouth disagreed on what the speaker should sound like.
The words grated on Jarik – it went against everything he had lived for, but with a greater enemy facing both sides, well…
"It was my only choice," he said, pronouncing each word loudly and firmly. "We face an enemy the likes of which has never been seen. Tri-Klops offered me an opportunity to do my bit and defend Eternia. At this point it seems trivial to question which side we fight on."
"Oh, he did, did he?" Skeletor said, rising from the throne. He took his Havoc-staff – a formidable looking weapon topped with the skull of a ram – and slowly started walking down the steps. "Then perhaps it is Tri-Klops who should be sitting upon this throne?"
"N-no, Lord Skeletor. I made it clear that the generosity of the offer to join our ranks came from none other than yourself."
"Fool!" Skeletor boomed, raising his staff which shot a bolt of white-hot energy from the empty eye sockets of the skull.
Jarik felt the heat of the blast tear past him, and silently chided himself that he hadn't been ready for the attack. If it had been aimed at him, he had no idea what the result would have been. Tri-Klops, however, seemed to have expected the blast and dived out of the way almost as soon as Skeletor had raised the staff.
There was a small boom and a crackle of discharged electricity as the energy blast hit the ground behind them, leaving a small crater in the stone and a smoking scorch mark.
It hadn't been a bluff, Jarik realised, keeping his face set in a neutral position. He had aimed at one of his own men and openly fired without warning.
The slow descent of the stairs continued relentlessly until the Lord of Destruction stood barely an arms-length from Jarik who had to crane his neck upwards to look at him.
Skeletor was far bigger than he had imagined up close. His height and build rivalled Dacker, and his thick, knotted arms criss-crossed with veins that were easy to see even in the dim light of the cavern. His armour was a dark blue, almost black, and inside the deep hood he could make out the skeletal bone structure of his face – a sight so horrific that he had to make a concerted effort to keep from turning away in disgust.
There was no skin that he could see, no muscle or tendon to control the jawbone that seemed to move by the power of some dark, evil magic. Jarik was no stranger to macabre sights – a lifetime as a soldier had inured him to the ugly face of death. But this was something else. The bone itself wasn't smooth as he would have expected, but pitted and scored in places, gnarled with small calcium growths in others. The two regarded each other for a moment, Skeletor's glowing red eyes moving just slightly within the otherwise empty sockets as he took in every detail of the man standing before him.
"It wasn't generosity, it was necessity," he said at last. "I am surrounded my incompetent sycophants who have so far sent wave after wave of Skelcons after this infernal machine, and not once been moved to take up arms themselves. I need a warrior – a real warrior – who will get rid of this thing once and for all."
On the periphery of his vision, Jarik saw Tri-Klops pick himself up from the floor and stand stiffly to attention.
"Here I stand in a rather unexpected situation," Skeletor continued, walking slowly around Jarik who felt the hairs on his neck rise as the abhorrent ruler of Snake Mountain inspected him from behind.
"In my presence I have a warrior from Eternos. Some would say an old, tired fighter who has seen the best of his days behind him. Others might say he was experienced. Hardened. Brave."
Skeletor appeared in Jarik's field of vision again and turned to him.
"So, which is it?"
"Why not find out?" Jarik asked, determined not to cowl to his enemy. Although he gave no outward sign, he primed his muscles, ready to take evasive action as soon as Skeletor lunged at him. He knew his survival probably depended on it.
But the attack he expected never came, instead Skeletor let out a shrill, scraping laugh.
"Indeed I shall," he said at last. "I want to know how effective the time, energy and materials invested in saving you have been." Skeletor banged the butt of his Havoc-Staff on the floor and returned to his throne, his long dark cape gliding across the floor as he did so.
Almost immediately Jarik heard a mechanical whirr behind him that sounded much like his own mechanical arm. He spun around to face the threat, and saw a figure emerge from the deep shadows of the walls.
At first all he saw was a large metallic claw made of a deep black metal that shone as it was brought out of the shadows. Attached to it was a deep blue muscular body which was covered in scars and stitches, like a macabre patchwork creation. Finally, the face emerged – a putrid green half rotten mess hidden beneath a dark reddish-purple helm. The lower jaw of the monster seemed to have rotted off – or been removed deliberately for all he knew – and was replaced by a jaw made of the same material as the helm. A jagged row of metallic teeth crunched into the upper teeth as Trap-Jaw stepped fully into the light.
"I'm going to break your new toy, Tri-Klops," he said wetly between cracking breaths.
"Don't hold back," Jarik said, stepping slowly backwards trying to gain some distance between them whilst subtly getting a measure of the space he had around him.
A deep, dark part of him wondered if he even cared if Trap-Jaw bested him. He'd already crossed an unspeakable line – perhaps death was the better option at this point?
Trap-Jaw was predictable in his first attack, rushing at Jarik who side-stepped and spun his upper body, unleashing a punch with his mechanical arm that flowed naturally but felt more powerful than any punch he had given before. Trap-Jaw stumbled, unable to resist the force of the blow, and his helm smashed into the wall so hard it echoed around the chamber.
Jarik started to wonder if Trap-Jaw would be such a match after all, but the thought was quickly pushed aside as Trap-Jaw recovered faster than expected and lunged again, this time lowering his body weight and throwing his metallic arm in a sweeping motion which took Jarik clean off his feet.
Trap-Jaw was on him immediately, and Jarik squirmed left and right beneath the monster as the claw smashed down repeatedly. In no small part due to Jarik reading each blow and moving his head away, the terrible claw smashed into the floor, throwing up chipped rock, each time getting closer and closer.
Now more than ever it was time to see what this new arm could do, and Jarik found purchase on Trap-Jaw's belt which he gripped and pulled his foe bodily away from him, launching him across the cavern where he skidded across the rough stone floor. Having seen how quickly Trap-Jaw could recover from such an attack, Jarik jumped to his feet and braced himself for the next attack.
Trap-Jaw was growing wild, anger churning inside him as he roared and raced towards Jarik in a blind rage.
Jarik anchored his feet and allowed himself a small smile. This what right where he wanted him. Just a few more steps and it would be all over. He was almost disappointed. He enjoyed the sensation of the adrenaline that surged through his veins.
Jarik waited just a moment longer, and drew his arm back, ready to plant his metallic fist right into Trap-Jaw's putrid face, ending the fight in what he hoped would be a killing blow. He may have agreed to fight alongside Skeletor's forces, but if he could take one out of the fight, all the better.
As he brought his fist forward he was suddenly jerked backwards as a whip cracked in the air and curled around his wrist. As he fell, he heard a blood curdling roar and caught sight of a hulking orange beast as he rolled instinctively.
Beast-Man.
He'd seen him in battle before, tearing through the ranks of Eternian soldiers with nothing but devastatingly feral tooth and claw against their blasters and staves.
The whip was pulled again and Jarik jumped to his feet clumsily, his balance thrown off by the powerful jerk as Beast-Man attempted to pull him within range of the yellowed, razor sharp claws.
Letting instinct take over, Jarik put faith in the strength of his new arm and countered the force, grabbing the whip in his vice like hand and pulling with all his might. Beast-Man was taken clean off his feet, but kept his own grip on the weapon. Jarik glanced over to where Trap-Jaw stood and swung Beast-Man around in an attempt to use him as a weapon.
A split-second before impact Beast-Man growled and let go, spinning in the air as the momentum carried him across the cavern. In a blur of orange fur, he spun in the air, hitting the wall feet first and launched himself back into the fight.
Unable to move in time, Trap-jaw was caught on the side of the head by the heavy handle of the whip. He fell to the floor with a gargled grunt of pain.
"Enough!" Skeletor boomed, stopping Beast-Man's attack with a blast from his Havoc-Staff.
Jarik remained ready to fight but allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. He had taken on two of Skeletor's most feared warriors and emerged virtually unscathed – he had trouble believing it himself, but the evidence was there in front of him – Trap-Jaw sprawled on the floor and Beast-Man, whilst not beaten, walking away, glaring at him. Spittle matted the thick hair on his chin, and he growled, his arms scraping the floor as he walked.
"I've seen enough," Skeletor said. "You've done well, Tri-Klops."
"So, what now?" Jarik asked, between breaths.
Skeletor's cruel eyes centred on Jarik. "Now you kneel before me and swear your allegiance."
"That was never part of the deal," he said, doing his best to keep the fear from his voice. He had no idea what the consequences of his refusal would be, but he knew that Skeletor wouldn't take it lightly, as was evidenced by Beast-Man and Tri-Klops backing away. Even Trap-Jaw started to crawl away wearily.
"The deal is whatever I say it is," Skeletor said calmly and pointed to the floor at his feet. "Kneel."
"I've agreed to join you in your battle against the monster that is stalking our world. Is that not enough for you?"
"Kneel," Skeletor said again, calmly. "I will not ask again."
