THREE
Castle Grayskull left no doubts as to the origins of its name. The only path that pushed aside the heavy jungles surrounding the castle lead its travelers to a stone fortress whose front was the ghastly face of some long dead, forgotten being. The eyes, just below two watch towers, were sunken and grave. The nose was two dark gashes across the middle. The mouth doubled as a drawbridge, now closed, but seeming to perpetually scream in torment. Surrounding the walls of the Castle Grayskull was a dark lagoon, where the only living things that survived were supernaturally cruel and powerful, thirsty for the life they could devour but never possess. No plants grew near the immediate edge of the water. That water would provide no sustenance for them.
Long ago, Castle Grayskull had been a dead place. The Sorceress had used her powers, not to defend Grayskull, but to hide it. She knew it wasn't enough. Skeletor got ever closer to discovering its hiding spot. Then one day, during her routine watchfulness, she spied Duncan patrolling the nearby jungles, and parted the veil surrounding Grayskull. It was seen by mortal eyes for the first time in three centuries.
Later, unaware of the brief love affair, King Randor had asked Duncan to take his son into the dark forest, to make a man of him, but to protect him from any harm—a difficult task and one he only trusted to his finest soldier. Adam actually enjoyed being away from the castle, no where near as grand as the Eternal Palace. He enjoyed hearing Duncan's stories of battle, but saw them as little more than entertainment. He was not a soldier. He was a Prince, not arrogant, but confident that he would never find himself on the battlefield. The Sorceress changed all that when she lead them to the castle, quieted Duncan's suspicions, and gave the Sword of Power to a boy whose pure soul she could see through the layers of irresponsibility he had surrounded it with. At first, she thought to give the sword to Duncan, but the sword had to go to one not so experienced as he. He had seen the ugly faces the world sometimes offered. Adam was more open to the emotions that would flood through him when he first lifted the sword and became Grayskull's champion.
It was then that she revealed herself to them. It was then that she felt the presence of her daughter in the company of the men, surprised that she had remained hidden from her. Teela was dressed like a boy, but already developing a woman's curves. She did not speak to Teela. And she did not speak to Duncan. Her words were for He-Man, who knew her. She revealed to them that Castle Grayskull was there before Eternia, though not in its current form, and that Castle Grayskull was a focal point for the cosmic energies that surrounded and built everything in the universe. She told them that there had been many who had held the title of Sorceress, protecting Grayskull, and that there had been others who held aloft the Sword of Power and became He-Man, mightiest of all mortals. She charged him with the task of stopping Skeletor. He could have said no. He could have given her back the Sword of Power, turned away, and she would have made sure that they all forgot Castle Grayskull. But he couldn't turn his back on the suffering of Eternia that he was now connected to.
Years later, He-Man finally did defeat Skeletor. He returned the Sword of Power. Its power slept again, deep in the bowels of Castle Grayskull where no creature crawled, but eyes watched everything.
Since the war had ended, King Adam had commissioned a small fort built to watch the road leading to Castle Grayskull. Its location was now general knowledge to most of the kingdom's people, so he felt more protection was needed. Every once in a while some lord who thought himself a knight would go searching for Castle Grayskull looking for adventure more than anything else. The fort was there to turn them away. There wasn't many people who tried. The two day march through uncharted, wild jungle was enough to keep most people away.
Ram-Man was in charge of the fort. He came from a land far removed from Randor, across the eastern mountains of Aeris. There, his people held gladiatorial type sporting events once every generation. The winner was awarded a sacred armor that made them nearly invulnerable and entrusted with the task of defending the magical gate that was the only means of entering their land through the mountains. The winning gladiator donned his armor and then held his post until the next contest, twenty years later, when he retired to a life of honor.
Ram-Man won that contest. He proudly defended the gate from wild animals and nightmarish monsters for nearly fifteen years. Then, Skeletor came, searching for a power that could defeat He-Man and win his Grayskull. Skeletor tricked Ram-Man into leaving his post and fighting Grayskull's defender. It was a clash of titans. The unmatchable force of He-Man versus the invulnerable power of Ram-Man. There had been no clear victor; thanks to the Sorceress' intervention, the battle was stopped.
While Ram-Man had fought He-Man, Skeletor had searched the gladiator's lands for the power he sought, forcefully subjecting the people to his will. He found nothing. Ram-Man's people were peaceful. There energies were spent on the magical gate that isolated them from evil like Skeletor's. And their trust was spent on the protector who had never failed before.
Ram-Man could never go home. His people might have forgiven him, but he could never forgive himself. With the gate destroyed and his home in ruins, he kept the armor and vowed vengeance on Skeletor. After the war, he had tried to return home to give back the armor, but the gate was gone forever. There was no way back. King Adam accepted Ram-Man as a loyal subject, and gave him the duty of guarding Castle Grayskull.
Everyday Ram-Man awoke to a new purposeful happiness. He had done his job well. After the war, there had been a few minor skirmishes. Some of Skeletor's forces refused to believe that their former master was dead. Ram-Man decisively sent them back to whatever rock Skeletor had found them under.
He wasn't alone, though, the way he had been when he guarded his homeland's gate. A small squad of soldiers kept the fort with him, rotating out every ninth months. Ram-Man took each new recruit up the path with him and made him stand before the drawbridge. No one could look into Castle Grayskull's eyes and not feel awe. And so, no one complained that they had been selected to guard the sacred grounds.
Ram-Man listened to the sounds of laughter from the men inside the fort playing at a game of dice that involved throwing them on the ground and jumping over certain boxes according to what the dice read. Ram-Man had no tolerance for games because they seemed to have none for him. He was a powerful fighter, but too clumsy for sport and he couldn't think fast enough for games of wit. He stood on the roof, watching two soldiers come up the path bearing water from the brook.
A week ago, the drawbridge of Castle Grayskull had opened. The Sorceress had passed by, revealing herself only to Ram-Man. "Keep this secret. You are Castle Grayskull's only defender now. I will be back in one months time, Ram-Man. You are a true friend and a champion defender." The others wondered why he had slept less and become so serious. He was vague, but mostly silent. He didn't trust himself not to slip and reveal more than they should know.
The soldiers joked below him. "She said she would try not to forget me while I was here. What do you think that means?"
"What do I think what means?"
"The try part."
"Oh, come on. At least you have a girl back home to miss ya'…"
"I guess you're right."
"Unless she didn't try hard enough." He laughed. The other soldier spun to punch his friend warmly, but firmly, in the arm. The water between them rocked and spilled.
"That was your fault," said the one with the girlfriend.
"How can you say it was my fault? You hit me."
"You deserved it." They both laughed, then happened to catch the sun reflecting brightly off Ram-Man's armor from the roof. "Sir," they said in unison, waving with their free hand.
Ram-Man waved back, but his eyes told them they needed to stop joking around and take care of their duties. They agreed to go back to the brook and gather some more water. Ram-Man watched them go, suddenly fighting off a sense of dread as he watched the two of them saunter carelessly into the jungle. He almost stopped them, but discarded his concern as the results of the new tension he was feeling with the Sorceress gone.
It was hot. The sun rarely pierced through the shade of the trees so effectively. Ram-Man, accustomed to wearing his heavy armor every day, was surprised to feel sweat trickling down his back. His armor was heavier than any a lord would have made. It rested heavily on his shoulders and surrounded his head, then draped down to cover his body down to his knees, where heavy boots took over the job of protecting his skin in battle. The total effect made him look like a human ram, thus the origin of his name. He had never told anyone, not even He-Man, the name he was born with. That was a part of a past he had nearly forgotten, but sometimes haunted him in dreams.
Ram-Man noticed a change in the forest immediately. He hadn't been actively listening to the songs of the large birds that made the jungle trees their home, or the chatter of the small monkeys that feared those same birds, but he noticed the sudden silence, as if every animal had stopped to watch breathlessly… What?
Ram-Man jumped carelessly from the roof. The power in his magically augmented legs made the jump effortless. He was sure the soldiers inside had heard the thud of his heavy landing though. He didn't want to break the silence with undo hysterical shouting before he knew what he was dealing with. He loosened the battle ax on his belt, tapped its sharp blade with his massive finger.
It was useless for someone as big and awkward as Ram-Man to try to move stealthily and he knew it. So instead he moved purposefully down the path, not hiding but not panicking He waited a moment before leaving the road and getting on the trail that lead to the brook. What was in there? Should he call to his men? It was probably nothing. Still, the jungle was silent.
Ram-Man went in.
He followed the trail for five minutes before finding the brook. Beside it was the empty bucket, now overturned. The men were no where in sight. He knew he should go back for at least two of his men. They were no doubt guarding the fort on full alert. He was alone. But he had to find those two soldiers. Every minute he wasted was another minute they might die.
He went to the water's edge confidently. Nothing he knew of could pierce the invulnerability his armor granted him. He had nothing to fear but the loss of the lives of his friends.
Next to the water he saw the boot prints of soldiers walking back and forth along the trail for water, but nothing else. There was no sign of struggle. The prints ended at the water's edge.
A bird broke the silence, each sharp cry startling even Ram-Man's battle-hardened nerves. He pulled his ax from his belt. No one would carry an ax as big as his. No one could swing it with any control except Ram-Man; it was as heavy as a man but brought Ram-Man no comfort this time.
Something came to the water's surface and was then rushed down stream before Ram-man could see it. Suspecting the worse, he leaned over the ledge and peered into the water, expecting to see the bodies of the two soldiers at the bottom.
His men were dead, but their bodies were gone. Ram-Man peered into the yellow eyes of a warrior-predator just below the surface. It was only for an instant, but in that instant Ram-Man relived a lifetime of failure. The green scaly face peered up at him, flashing a wide, sharp-toothed grin. The creature's muscled scales tensed, and then a tail with the power of ten men lashed out from the water, wrapped around Ram-Man's legs, and pulled him in. An instant.
Even under the water, Ram-Man swung his ax furiously. He hit something, realized it was dirt, and spun around. He couldn't find his attacker anywhere, couldn't see clearly in the murky water. His armor was too heavy. He couldn't swim, but he could walk his way out. Ram-Man fought against the mud. He was buried to his waste. He felt himself slowly moving forward. The water pushed in on him. He had hit its surface without air, startled by the sudden attack.
Still, he pushed on. He closed his eyes, forced himself to remain calm. His great strength pushed him towards the water's edge. The top of his helmet broke the water's surface. Ram-Man pushed harder. He put everything into one last surge of energy that would carry him to land.
Just then, the tail struck again. It wrapped around Ram-Man's body, went taut and was almost jerked loose when Ram-Man leaped forward, but then held and pulled the gladiator back down. Ram-Man thrashed against his enemy violently. The tail let go. Now Ram-Man was on his stomach at the water's bottom.
His enemy watched him struggle for another minute—just reflex. Then, Ram-Man's body went limp and settled into the mud. No amount of war armor or weapons could save a man who couldn't breathe, his enemy thought. He waited another minute, and then pulled Ram-Man's body to the surface. Skeletor would be pleased to display the body of his enemy. He would reward Whiplash for his service today.
When Skeletor was banished, Whiplash had retreated into the swamplands of Eternia, a vast endless bog where life was hard for all the creatures. Only the fiercest predators could survive in a world without light, that was often flooded, but where the water was stagnant and sick. It was a perfect hiding place for Whiplash. There he waited, worshipped by a race of amphibian troglodytes that resembled the tribe Whiplash had left to join Skeletor. "One of your race will be imbued with great power, and will serve me for all time." That was how Skeletor found most of his evil horde. Whiplash didn't mind serving. He had been given great power. He looked forward to more. But then Skeletor lost. Whiplash had never expected that.
Two weeks ago, Whiplash got a message carried to him through the water and delivered by one of his troglodyte worshippers who was primitive enough to understand the words behind the magic. It was Mer-Man's words, but Skeletor's plans. Whiplash was more than happy to lash out at the heroes who had sent him into this exile. He longed for the rays of the sun to bake his scales and warm his muscles. To that end, he set out immediately. He watched. He waited. And when the time came, as Skeletor had ordered, he attacked Grayskull's new champion.
Ram-Man's defeat was vindication for the suffering Whiplash felt he had unjustly endured. He was powerful. Skeletor had made sure of that. Standing at nine feet tall with a tail twice as long, and an instinctual cunning, he easily slaughtered the remaining guards. Ram-Man had been his only fear. The others had no weapons that could hurt him. He waited until night, just the same. And then his tail had lashed out, snapping the necks of the guards one at a time from the darkness, then bashing down the fort's gate. They came at him with everything. Bladed weapons were useless, bouncing off his armored hide… Their guns couldn't find him in the night and only stunned Whiplash anyway. Having killed them all, letting none escape through the gate he thought, he submerged himself back into the water and sent Mer-Man the message of his victory.
In the night, one shining star of hope shot through the sky, headed towards the Eternal Palace. When Ram-Man hadn't come back immediately, the guards had had the foresight to send their own message home.