Chapter 3-New Plans
The Wind Raider skidded to a halt on the Gratten Ridge landing platforms. Adam hated flying as the seats numbed his behind. Calados Sal wobbled about uncertainly as he slid out of the cockpit trying to find his 'land-legs'. A Royal officer greeted them both though what he was saying was lost to Adam as his ears still rang from the constant, obnoxious whine of the engines. So he just smiled and nodded politely and then grimaced as Sal fell to his knees and vomited. Adam was glad that someone was making him look dignified by comparison.
The officer, a sergeant, appeared to ask a question. Adam, now feeling nauseous himself just continued smiling and nodding. The sergeant started to walk away, beckoning Adam and Sal to follow, which was alright for the fellow, his equilibrium was not visiting two different places at once. Adam squared himself and made after the man, in an awkward stagger. After a few crooked steps he motioned to the sergeant to stop. The officer smiled in understanding and leant up against a rock while Adam fell to the ground and let the world spin around him. A thud told him Sal had done the same.
Sitting there he realized he could hear Sal's coughing, at least his hearing was returning. A few moments later and the feeling of nausea started to dissipate. Now Adam realized he was thirsty, as luck would have it. Rising he looked at Sal, "Are you alright?" he asked. Sal just gave a weak nod. Adam helped him up and soon they were on their way again.
It took probably ten minutes for the prince and his charge to reach the compound. Another officer took the place of the sergeant (Ryfas was the lad's name) that had greeted them. This time Adam did not miss the introduction as Flight-Captain Aaramad offered the Prince and his companion a drink. As they were led to a bar lounge Adam looked about the compound, his mother had called them 'airports'. He thought the word silly; nothing was parked in the 'air'. Adam thought 'Air Vehicle Port' sounded much more accurate.
"Are you going to rest a few hours Your Highness before you depart again?" Captain Aaramad asked.
"Well I don't know how quickly my friend is going to leave but I'm staying a few days." Adam replied. "I hear there is good hunting in the mountains this time of year."
"Only if wildcats and bears are your thing," Aaramad said.
"Your Highness, you cannot send me alone, I need you to put our needs to Count Ohrgustus," Calados Sal interjected.
Adam smiled, "I already have that taken care of, I wrote a letter back in Eternos City outlining my instructions to the Count in aiding you."
"But your father, the King.?"
"You know, I thought I had forgotten to tell him something." Adam looked at the anxious expression on the archaeologist's face. "Don't worry my friend, fly straight to Ilandra. Give the Count my apologies: tell him I had business here that needed attention and that I will pass through his court on my way to Vaneda."
"Fear not for the Prince scholar, for I will arrange for the best soldiers to see to his wellbeing," Aaramad assured Sal.
"Actually Captain, as appreciative as I am of your offer, I will be going alone," Adam corrected.
"My Lord I cannot allow that, your father would have me flogged!"
"No he wouldn't," Adam said, "He would just sigh, rub his temples and say 'That's my son alright'."
"Well sir may I ask that you take an Attak Trak for your protection?" pleaded Aaramad. "That way you will have firearms at your disposal and the luxury of the armored hide. Please Your Highness, for my sake."
Adam winced, he did not relish the idea of sitting another few hours in an unsteady ride; his backside still smarted from the flight in the Wind Raider. Still, if it at least bought him some peace. Adam nodded his acceptance of Aaramad's request.
After that Adam suggested he would like to stretch his legs in the city for a while. Sal said he would like to sleep before heading out again and Captain Aaramad excused himself, saying he had to go organize the Prince's Wind Raider. As Adam got up he noticed an anomaly in the lounge's patronage, there was only one woman. As his eyes passed over her she quickly snapped her head downwards. 'Strange' he thought, she had a hood pulled up tight over her, covering almost half her face. He put it to the back of his mind, being who he was accustomed him to being stared at by women.
Giving his final thanks to Captain Aaramad he walked out towards the city of Gratten Ridge.
Watching the young Prince leave the lounge, Lyn pondered whether or not she should abduct him. Randor would pay any price, including his throne, to have back his only child. It was definitely worth thinking about. It also occurred to her that taking the Prince would also draw out He-Man. She clenched her hands tight; somehow she would make him pay for leaving her tied to a tree in the Frimswood.
Had it not been for Beastman fleeing from captivity and into the forest she would still more than likely be bound. Even then she still suffered from the spell that witch had put on her and sensing this Beastman carried her to the nearest village for healing. Of course the only person who could treat her malaise was another magi sister, though she masqueraded as a common healer. That or risk persecution from the fearful village-folk who believed that a witch in their presence would bring upon them the wrath of The Horde. Stupid peasants.
Of course the sister knew that Lyn possessed power of her own, she quizzed her relentlessly, trying to uncover if Lyn was aware of her own 'gift'. As far as she was concerned gratitude extended only so much and Lyn soon burnt the meddlesome old bag into a cinder. Lyn hated being interrogated.
Fleeing the village with Beastman she started to make her way south, towards the Altecom mountain range. She remembered it was from there that presence had originated, the one she detected before her captivity. Somewhere in these mountains lay Castle Grayskull, she was sure. She stopped from village to village, hearing news of the aftermath of Battle of Ilandra (which she was not present for). Skeletor's troops had been routed in the field and he himself had fled. Nothing had been heard of him since. It also seemed that He-Man had disappeared altogether as well, apparently satisfied Skeletor would not be returning any time soon.
So she had come here to Gratten Ridge, the only town/city/village in the Il Grando Pass of the Altecoms; hoping that some information could be discovered that would lead her to Castle Grayskull. The way she saw it, with no Skeletor or He-Man she had a free run at the prize. And now; now the crown prince of Eternia had fallen straight into her lap. And, she had overheard his recreational plans, he would be all alone in the mountains.
She got up and left the lounge, she would have to return to the city's outskirts and lay in wait for him. As she reached the camp, where Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw waited in addition to Beastman; she had found the other two on the run from Randor's army. "Gather your things," she commanded, "We are moving."
"Care to explain yourself witch?" Tri-Klops sneered.
"Not that I need explain myself to you but, Prince Adam is in Gratten Ridge as we speak and sometime soon he will be going hunting, in the mountains, alone." That perked their interest. "We will follow him until he is far clear of civilization and then we will simply nab him."
"How can you be so sure he will be alone?" asked Tri-Klops skeptically.
"Because he ordered that he be given no protection, how stupid is he?" Evil- Lyn laughed. Tri-Klops grinned, Beastman smiled and Trap Jaw.well Trap Jaw's cheeks rose so he must have been amused. 'They are following me' Evil Lyn thought quietly, 'I am a natural leader'. This brought her thoughts to Skeletor, she wondered where he was hiding now.
The sword swung furiously, flashing sparks whenever it met stone. He was defenseless before its rage and watched pathetically as the steel blade inched ever closer. Stumbling back he felt the cold press of stone against his flesh. This was it! There was no place left to run. His adversary's face was twisted with hate; he would not relent, not for him. All it would take is one swipe from that blade and it would all be over; one well placed blow and he would be cleft in two. He saw it coming, the killing blow, aimed straight for his.
Skeletor awoke with a start. That image would forever be stuck in his mind, his mortal foe poised to end his existence with one fell swoop. It was a nightmare that had haunted him for the last seven months; He-Man no longer wanted to stop him, he wanted to kill him. Skeletor shook with a rage of his own, living in fear of another being. He had abandoned humanity so that he need never fear again. He had studied the dark arts under the darkest of teachers so that he may never again be bested by any creature. He-Man had taken that security away from him.
Skeletor had flown that night at Aohre's Peak, carried upon the back of his great winged-mount to only the Gods knew where. He had flown all night until the morning had come and then he had flown through until the afternoon and beyond. When the mammoth bird could fly no longer Skeletor set down upon land and ran and he ran until no longer could his legs carry him. He collapsed to the ground and slept his first sleep in days, but that respite would not last long. That was when the nightmare started, bringing him, without fail, wide awake. He would then stumble aimlessly about until again he would fall and dream.
So it had been since his flight from near doom.
He recognized not the land to which he had fled. This place was so unlike continental Eternia, there looked to be less habitation. The earth on which he stood was unbeaten, no wheel tracks or footprints of any kind were indented upon its lush surface. Toward the horizon he could spy the beginnings of a forest of some kind and beyond that a mountain range.
Only the Avionians knew the geography of the entire world; but like most Avionian knowledge it was a closely held secret. Always fearful of 'the wrong hands' acquiring their secrets, Skeletor fancied the idea of 'his' hands around their feathered necks. He wondered what could possibly exist in these alien lands the Avionians felt could not be shared with the rest of the world. Possibly they were like children who refused to share their possessions with others.
Putting his frustration with the bird-people to the back of his mind Skeletor set forth for the forest. Surely he would come across inhabitation of some kind if he persisted long enough? Reaching out through his mind he searched for life and to his chagrin found none. If he were a nomad the absence of predators in a forest would have been good news. However, it meant that either the woods were uninhabitable or something was keeping them away. Both choices pointed to only one answer; there was some un- natural force at work here. It also intrigued Skeletor, the possibility of acquiring more power always did. He debated the wisdom of navigating the forest, to walk into the unknown always provided great risk, yet the rewards could be magnificent. Pragmatism soon gave way to curiosity; Skeletor never was one to shy away from such risks.
As he approached the woods he noted that the trees did not grow too close together, making his impending hike that much simpler. He entered the forest looking about cautiously as though some enemy would pounce from behind. Skeletor quietly reprimanded himself for acting like such a coward; his last encounter with He-Man caused this trepidation. Clutching his Havoc Staff he blew apart an elm in a petulant rage. There would be no going back to Eternia in this state; he could not face He-Man again until he had regained his nerve.
His rehabilitation would begin here, he decided. Let whom or whatever that resided here come after him, for they would not find him cowering in fear. Skeletor swept the staff around in wide arcs, uprooting and shattering trees wherever it pointed. Skeletor, Master of Chaos and Destruction did not walk through forests; forests parted before him.
Skeletor plunged deeper into the forest, brutally defoliating it wherever he walked. The landscape became a wasteland of leaves and woodchips, the only reminder of what once was. He dreamed of conquest in the same vein; the trees were the bodies of his enemies, the leaves their blood. The thought gave him comfort and pleasure and soon he began to laugh. Thus he amused himself as he strolled along, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction.
The Wind Raider skidded to a halt on the Gratten Ridge landing platforms. Adam hated flying as the seats numbed his behind. Calados Sal wobbled about uncertainly as he slid out of the cockpit trying to find his 'land-legs'. A Royal officer greeted them both though what he was saying was lost to Adam as his ears still rang from the constant, obnoxious whine of the engines. So he just smiled and nodded politely and then grimaced as Sal fell to his knees and vomited. Adam was glad that someone was making him look dignified by comparison.
The officer, a sergeant, appeared to ask a question. Adam, now feeling nauseous himself just continued smiling and nodding. The sergeant started to walk away, beckoning Adam and Sal to follow, which was alright for the fellow, his equilibrium was not visiting two different places at once. Adam squared himself and made after the man, in an awkward stagger. After a few crooked steps he motioned to the sergeant to stop. The officer smiled in understanding and leant up against a rock while Adam fell to the ground and let the world spin around him. A thud told him Sal had done the same.
Sitting there he realized he could hear Sal's coughing, at least his hearing was returning. A few moments later and the feeling of nausea started to dissipate. Now Adam realized he was thirsty, as luck would have it. Rising he looked at Sal, "Are you alright?" he asked. Sal just gave a weak nod. Adam helped him up and soon they were on their way again.
It took probably ten minutes for the prince and his charge to reach the compound. Another officer took the place of the sergeant (Ryfas was the lad's name) that had greeted them. This time Adam did not miss the introduction as Flight-Captain Aaramad offered the Prince and his companion a drink. As they were led to a bar lounge Adam looked about the compound, his mother had called them 'airports'. He thought the word silly; nothing was parked in the 'air'. Adam thought 'Air Vehicle Port' sounded much more accurate.
"Are you going to rest a few hours Your Highness before you depart again?" Captain Aaramad asked.
"Well I don't know how quickly my friend is going to leave but I'm staying a few days." Adam replied. "I hear there is good hunting in the mountains this time of year."
"Only if wildcats and bears are your thing," Aaramad said.
"Your Highness, you cannot send me alone, I need you to put our needs to Count Ohrgustus," Calados Sal interjected.
Adam smiled, "I already have that taken care of, I wrote a letter back in Eternos City outlining my instructions to the Count in aiding you."
"But your father, the King.?"
"You know, I thought I had forgotten to tell him something." Adam looked at the anxious expression on the archaeologist's face. "Don't worry my friend, fly straight to Ilandra. Give the Count my apologies: tell him I had business here that needed attention and that I will pass through his court on my way to Vaneda."
"Fear not for the Prince scholar, for I will arrange for the best soldiers to see to his wellbeing," Aaramad assured Sal.
"Actually Captain, as appreciative as I am of your offer, I will be going alone," Adam corrected.
"My Lord I cannot allow that, your father would have me flogged!"
"No he wouldn't," Adam said, "He would just sigh, rub his temples and say 'That's my son alright'."
"Well sir may I ask that you take an Attak Trak for your protection?" pleaded Aaramad. "That way you will have firearms at your disposal and the luxury of the armored hide. Please Your Highness, for my sake."
Adam winced, he did not relish the idea of sitting another few hours in an unsteady ride; his backside still smarted from the flight in the Wind Raider. Still, if it at least bought him some peace. Adam nodded his acceptance of Aaramad's request.
After that Adam suggested he would like to stretch his legs in the city for a while. Sal said he would like to sleep before heading out again and Captain Aaramad excused himself, saying he had to go organize the Prince's Wind Raider. As Adam got up he noticed an anomaly in the lounge's patronage, there was only one woman. As his eyes passed over her she quickly snapped her head downwards. 'Strange' he thought, she had a hood pulled up tight over her, covering almost half her face. He put it to the back of his mind, being who he was accustomed him to being stared at by women.
Giving his final thanks to Captain Aaramad he walked out towards the city of Gratten Ridge.
Watching the young Prince leave the lounge, Lyn pondered whether or not she should abduct him. Randor would pay any price, including his throne, to have back his only child. It was definitely worth thinking about. It also occurred to her that taking the Prince would also draw out He-Man. She clenched her hands tight; somehow she would make him pay for leaving her tied to a tree in the Frimswood.
Had it not been for Beastman fleeing from captivity and into the forest she would still more than likely be bound. Even then she still suffered from the spell that witch had put on her and sensing this Beastman carried her to the nearest village for healing. Of course the only person who could treat her malaise was another magi sister, though she masqueraded as a common healer. That or risk persecution from the fearful village-folk who believed that a witch in their presence would bring upon them the wrath of The Horde. Stupid peasants.
Of course the sister knew that Lyn possessed power of her own, she quizzed her relentlessly, trying to uncover if Lyn was aware of her own 'gift'. As far as she was concerned gratitude extended only so much and Lyn soon burnt the meddlesome old bag into a cinder. Lyn hated being interrogated.
Fleeing the village with Beastman she started to make her way south, towards the Altecom mountain range. She remembered it was from there that presence had originated, the one she detected before her captivity. Somewhere in these mountains lay Castle Grayskull, she was sure. She stopped from village to village, hearing news of the aftermath of Battle of Ilandra (which she was not present for). Skeletor's troops had been routed in the field and he himself had fled. Nothing had been heard of him since. It also seemed that He-Man had disappeared altogether as well, apparently satisfied Skeletor would not be returning any time soon.
So she had come here to Gratten Ridge, the only town/city/village in the Il Grando Pass of the Altecoms; hoping that some information could be discovered that would lead her to Castle Grayskull. The way she saw it, with no Skeletor or He-Man she had a free run at the prize. And now; now the crown prince of Eternia had fallen straight into her lap. And, she had overheard his recreational plans, he would be all alone in the mountains.
She got up and left the lounge, she would have to return to the city's outskirts and lay in wait for him. As she reached the camp, where Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw waited in addition to Beastman; she had found the other two on the run from Randor's army. "Gather your things," she commanded, "We are moving."
"Care to explain yourself witch?" Tri-Klops sneered.
"Not that I need explain myself to you but, Prince Adam is in Gratten Ridge as we speak and sometime soon he will be going hunting, in the mountains, alone." That perked their interest. "We will follow him until he is far clear of civilization and then we will simply nab him."
"How can you be so sure he will be alone?" asked Tri-Klops skeptically.
"Because he ordered that he be given no protection, how stupid is he?" Evil- Lyn laughed. Tri-Klops grinned, Beastman smiled and Trap Jaw.well Trap Jaw's cheeks rose so he must have been amused. 'They are following me' Evil Lyn thought quietly, 'I am a natural leader'. This brought her thoughts to Skeletor, she wondered where he was hiding now.
The sword swung furiously, flashing sparks whenever it met stone. He was defenseless before its rage and watched pathetically as the steel blade inched ever closer. Stumbling back he felt the cold press of stone against his flesh. This was it! There was no place left to run. His adversary's face was twisted with hate; he would not relent, not for him. All it would take is one swipe from that blade and it would all be over; one well placed blow and he would be cleft in two. He saw it coming, the killing blow, aimed straight for his.
Skeletor awoke with a start. That image would forever be stuck in his mind, his mortal foe poised to end his existence with one fell swoop. It was a nightmare that had haunted him for the last seven months; He-Man no longer wanted to stop him, he wanted to kill him. Skeletor shook with a rage of his own, living in fear of another being. He had abandoned humanity so that he need never fear again. He had studied the dark arts under the darkest of teachers so that he may never again be bested by any creature. He-Man had taken that security away from him.
Skeletor had flown that night at Aohre's Peak, carried upon the back of his great winged-mount to only the Gods knew where. He had flown all night until the morning had come and then he had flown through until the afternoon and beyond. When the mammoth bird could fly no longer Skeletor set down upon land and ran and he ran until no longer could his legs carry him. He collapsed to the ground and slept his first sleep in days, but that respite would not last long. That was when the nightmare started, bringing him, without fail, wide awake. He would then stumble aimlessly about until again he would fall and dream.
So it had been since his flight from near doom.
He recognized not the land to which he had fled. This place was so unlike continental Eternia, there looked to be less habitation. The earth on which he stood was unbeaten, no wheel tracks or footprints of any kind were indented upon its lush surface. Toward the horizon he could spy the beginnings of a forest of some kind and beyond that a mountain range.
Only the Avionians knew the geography of the entire world; but like most Avionian knowledge it was a closely held secret. Always fearful of 'the wrong hands' acquiring their secrets, Skeletor fancied the idea of 'his' hands around their feathered necks. He wondered what could possibly exist in these alien lands the Avionians felt could not be shared with the rest of the world. Possibly they were like children who refused to share their possessions with others.
Putting his frustration with the bird-people to the back of his mind Skeletor set forth for the forest. Surely he would come across inhabitation of some kind if he persisted long enough? Reaching out through his mind he searched for life and to his chagrin found none. If he were a nomad the absence of predators in a forest would have been good news. However, it meant that either the woods were uninhabitable or something was keeping them away. Both choices pointed to only one answer; there was some un- natural force at work here. It also intrigued Skeletor, the possibility of acquiring more power always did. He debated the wisdom of navigating the forest, to walk into the unknown always provided great risk, yet the rewards could be magnificent. Pragmatism soon gave way to curiosity; Skeletor never was one to shy away from such risks.
As he approached the woods he noted that the trees did not grow too close together, making his impending hike that much simpler. He entered the forest looking about cautiously as though some enemy would pounce from behind. Skeletor quietly reprimanded himself for acting like such a coward; his last encounter with He-Man caused this trepidation. Clutching his Havoc Staff he blew apart an elm in a petulant rage. There would be no going back to Eternia in this state; he could not face He-Man again until he had regained his nerve.
His rehabilitation would begin here, he decided. Let whom or whatever that resided here come after him, for they would not find him cowering in fear. Skeletor swept the staff around in wide arcs, uprooting and shattering trees wherever it pointed. Skeletor, Master of Chaos and Destruction did not walk through forests; forests parted before him.
Skeletor plunged deeper into the forest, brutally defoliating it wherever he walked. The landscape became a wasteland of leaves and woodchips, the only reminder of what once was. He dreamed of conquest in the same vein; the trees were the bodies of his enemies, the leaves their blood. The thought gave him comfort and pleasure and soon he began to laugh. Thus he amused himself as he strolled along, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction.