Chapter One

Evil-Lyn stood beside Skeletor, waiting impatiently. He had summoned her to witness the effects of a "new and magnificent" spell he had found that would enable him to get hold of Randor. She wished he would hurry up and finish it, so that she could get back to her own research. She had no doubts whatsoever that it would fail, and then she would be forced to listen to the idiot rant for hours about how everyone was conspiring against him. Again.

The Lord of Snake Mountain had not permitted her to look at the spell or its components, for which she was grateful. At least this way, she would have a reasonable explanation for why the undertaking's inevitable failure wasn't her fault.

Skeletor had informed her in tones of insufferable confidence that at the spell's conclusion, Randor would be standing in the middle of the cell that was ten feet in front of them. Perhaps the blue-skinned oaf believed that the king of Eternia would be easier to control if he materialized behind bars of hardened steel.

Her attention was diverted from a contemplation of Skeletor's many shortcomings when the volume of the idiot's chanting abruptly increased, and a shaft of light from nowhere shone down on the paper that was the central focus of the casting. Energy erupted within the tiny space, and suddenly, just as Skeletor let out a triumphant last few syllables, a man appeared, standing in the middle of the cell.

Evil-Lyn let out a peal of laughter which she swiftly suppressed. The Lord of Snake Mountain didn't take kindly to ridicule. Skeletor stared, transfixed, at the prize he had caught.

The man seemed to be completely thunderstruck, staring at Skeletor, who was directly in front of him. Like Randor, he had a beard and mustache, and blue eyes, but there the physical resemblance ended. He was a slender man of middle years and height, with red hair. Evil-Lyn raised an eyebrow, appraising their guest. This was not a man for whom physical activity was important, she surmised. He wore long, loose trousers of some sort of fine tan fabric, belted with a slender strip of brown leather drawn through loops of the same material at the waistband. His shoes were also brown, and clearly not designed for hard walking. His shirt was blue, and, oddly, it was tucked inside his trousers. Buttons ran up the center front, and the collar was peculiarly constructed. It had pointed flaps that folded down from the neckline and were buttoned to the main body of the shirt. The topmost button of the blue shirt was undone, revealing that he was wearing a white shirt with a round neck beneath it that appeared to be of a different sort of fabric. Atop all of this, he wore a white surcoat that was open down the front, though it had buttons as well and could clearly be closed. It had similar flaps at the neck, though these had no buttons. There were pockets at the hips of both the trousers and the surcoat, and a single pocket on the blue shirt, above the left breast.

In one of his hands he held a glass vial with an extremely narrow neck that broadened out conically to a wide circular base. It contained an amber fluid that was swirling as though the man had been agitating it before his abrupt arrival at Snake Mountain.

"Who is this?" Skeletor demanded irritably.

Evil-Lyn strove to keep her tone calm and reasonable, rather than mirthful. "Well, it's certainly not the king of Eternia," she said.

The 'overlord of evil' strode across to the cell door. Interestingly, the man's eyes narrowed angrily, but he held his ground, not backing away. "Who are you?" Skeletor demanded.

The man's eyebrows raised, and he tilted his head. He responded in an unfamiliar language, clearly asking a question. When Skeletor's brows merely lowered and he didn't speak, the man spoke again. This time, she thought, he was speaking a different language. He paused again, then, if Evil-Lyn wasn't mistaken, reiterated his question in yet another tongue. When this occurred a fourth time, Skeletor threw his hands up into the air and turned to her.

"Don't you have a spell that will permit you to speak and understand foreign languages?" he asked.

Controlling her amusement with some difficulty, Evil-Lyn said, "Yes, Lord Skeletor. But I can only cast it on myself, and it only works one-on-one. You will not be able to understand him."

Skeletor's eyes glowed red, and she could see that he was becoming angry. "Fine. Let me explain to you what I want you to discover from him, then." She nodded patiently, failing to conceal her air of smugness. "The spell relies upon creatures from the plane of Athure to seek out a person and bring him to the caster's location. The target must be described in terms of his physical appearance and his relationships to others."

"I see."

"Here is the paper on which I have written the descriptions I used. I want to know how well this man matches these descriptions so I can determine how better to describe Randor to capture him." So saying, he thrust the page of vellum into her hands and stalked out of the room. She watched him leave, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Then she raised her staff, cast her spell and turned to the man in the cell. "Good afternoon, sir," she said and waited to see if he would respond. This spell could be finicky, and might need some finessing to make sure it was properly effective.

"Do you have some sort of translation device?" he asked curiously. "Your lips are not following your words."

She raised a single eyebrow. "Something of the sort," she said. "I see it's working. What is your name?"

He shook his head. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" he asked, glaring at her.

"Well," she said slowly, giving him an amused look. "Let me assure you, your presence here is entirely in error. My . . . colleague . . ." She glanced over her shoulder toward the exit Skeletor had taken. "He made a mistake that brought you here. I'm simply going to try and ascertain what that mistake was so we can solve the problem."

The man pursed his lips. "How did he bring me here? Some form of teleportation? How did he manage the matter transference?"

Evil-Lyn rolled her eyes. Raising her staff again, she conjured two comfortable chairs, one inside the cell and one directly behind her. The man's eyes widened and she smiled. Sitting down, she said, "Please, be seated." He glanced behind him and saw the chair. Giving her an odd look, he sat down, placing the vial on the floor next to him, and waited for her to speak. She was very impressed by his calm acceptance of the situation. Most of the men she was acquainted with would be at the bars screaming curse words and demanding immediate release. "Now, sir, I don't entirely understand your questions, but to answer the first, you were summoned here by means of creatures from the plane of Athure."

"Summoned?" the man repeated. "I don't understand."

"Skeletor magically contacted some of the denizens of the plane of Athure, which are notoriously literal-minded and mischievous creatures, and, giving them a description of the man he wanted found, sent them out to find him." His eyes had grown very wide. "They delivered you."

"You're saying that I was brought here by means of a magical spell?" he asked, sounding shocked.

She tilted her head. "How else?"

"Well, there are several scientists I can think of offhand who are working on matter transference technology, and I know there are other techniques that are being experimented with. Who do you work for? Why am I here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know anything of these scientists. Your presence is, as I explained earlier, a mistake. My Lord Skeletor, whom you have already seen, made an error in his casting which led to you rather than the man he actually sought."

"How very odd," he said witn a bemused expression on his face. "I'm used to being the target, not the innocent bystander. Are you going to release me?"

"That isn't my decision," Evil-Lyn said dismissively. "Now, what is your name?"

"I am Doctorbentonquest," he said.

"That's quite a long name," she commented.

He gave her a dubious look. "Fairly ordinary, I would say. Where am I?"

"Snake Mountain."

He shook his head. "What country am I in? I don't recognize the language that strangely masked man was speaking."

** Masked? And where is this fellow from that he doesn't know who Skeletor is? ** "We're not in a country. This is the Dark Hemisphere. Where are you from?"

"The Dark Hemisphere of what?" he asked. "And what do you mean 'we're not in a country'?"

"This is getting us nowhere, Doctorbentonquest," she said, shaking her head. "I have questions for you which you must answer. Then we can address the question of whether or not Skeletor will send you home."

His brows knit. "Doctor Quest is sufficient, young lady," he said. "Doctor is my title, Quest is my surname. Benton is my given name." He leaned forward. "And I'm beginning to suspect I'm not in Kansas anymore. What is this place?"

She blinked. "I don't understand your naming customs, I see. You are from someplace called Kansas?"

He opened his mouth, but then the bemused look came over his face again. "More or less," he said. "What is your name?"

"Evil-Lyn," she said. "Now, to the point of this interview." She raised the paper and scanned its contents, barely refraining from laughing aloud. Skeletor had thought this was sufficient description? He didn't even mention Randor's hair color in the physical description, or his height. Scanning further down, she asked, "You have a son with blond hair and blue eyes, who is not yet a man?"

He stood abruptly, anger writ in every line of his body. "What about him?" he demanded, managing to loom even through the bars. ** Neat trick! ** she thought in amusement.

"I'll take that for a yes," she said calmly, moving to the next point. "You have a close friend who works for you, one who has a particularly strong devotion to your son?"

"Why are you asking these questions?" Doctor Quest demanded.

She gave him an irritated look. "Please sit down, Doctor Quest," she said. "Or I will take more stringent measures to force your cooperation." He glared at her, but he sat down, crossing his arms and continuing to stare icily. "Very good," she said. "Now, please answer my question."

"I don't think so," he said. "If my presence is a mistake, why do you want to know more information about my household?"

She raised a scornful eyebrow. "I told you that Skeletor gave the Athurites a description of the man he sought. Clearly it was insufficient. I am seeking similarities and differences so that the description can be improved upon."

He raised his eyebrows. "I see. That does seem a logical course of action. May I ask what you intend to do with this other man if you obtain him?"

"That hardly seems to be your business. The sooner we can work out what went wrong, however, the more likely you are to be returned to your home." He stared at her without responding. She glanced down at the vellum. "So, I asked if you have a man working for you who -"

"No," he said flatly, and she had the strong suspicion that he was not referring to the question. "No, I will not help you to capture someone else."

"You haven't really got a choice," she said.

"I can refuse to answer your questions," he replied. "And I do."

Her eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Would it help if I told you that the man we seek is a villainous rogue who ravages the countryside and tortures his people?"

He blinked at her. "No, I really don't think it would. You see, I don't think I'd believe you if you were to tell me that." He gave her an annoying grin. "Why, were you going to?"

She resisted the impulse to shoot a blast of lightening at him. "You are impertinent!"

"And you're holding me prisoner for no reason other than your boss made a mistake. I'm not interested in aiding you to imprison someone else."

Evil-Lyn stood up and walked to the bars of the cell. "Well, you have let slip the fact that you have a young son and that you care about him greatly. I have more skill in the summoning department than Skeletor does, and I have you. I could bring your son here from wherever he is. Would you then answer my questions?"

His eyes widened with alarm and she could see that she'd hit the mark she'd been aiming at. Then his gaze grew even more hostile than it had been before, his eyes narrowing. "Did you suppose that you were the first villains to capture me?"

"What makes you think we're villains, Doctor Quest?"

He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair, giving her an unfriendly look. "I don't know what you want with this other man, but the simple fact that you've drawn me here, into this cell, and have not returned me to my home upon discovering your mistake, suggests that your intentions are neither good nor honorable. And I don't think you'd be foolish enough to attempt to capture my son."

This man's calm defiance was infuriating, but Evil-Lyn decided to accept this for the moment. For one thing, if she simply allowed him to believe that she had agreed to leave his son alone, when the time came to fetch him, Doctor Quest's distress at the appearance of the boy would be all the greater. She just hoped that Skeletor would have a little patience today.

"Very well," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Let me tell you a few things about Randor, and perhaps you can simply confirm the differences."

"I can't stop you from saying whatever you want to say, my dear," Doctor Quest said. "But I won't help you." So it was to be a contest of wills and of perception. He might be surprised how much he was going to help her without ever intending to.

Benton watched the woman's eyebrow raise slightly, clearly in anticipation of the challenge. He'd have to school his expressions well with this one. She was clearly very smart, and older than she looked, he'd wager.

He sat in this comfortable chair, which seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, gazing at her, yet taking in every detail of his surroundings. This cell appeared to be hewn from the living rock. Bars of some sort of dark metal covered the opening, and there was a lock that he was certain Race could pick with his eyes closed, using a pencil. He wasn't sure how to take this notion of "summoning." Her clear implication was that magic, not science, had brought him here. Though he was more inclined than the average man to believe in supernatural explanations for events, that was a bit much to swallow, even if it did explain the suddenness of his arrival.

"The man Skeletor was seeking is Randor, King of Eternia." Benton looked behind her, trying to get a covert view of the room she was sitting in. ** Wait, king of where? ** His eyes focused on her face as she went on. "He has a sixteen-year-old son named Adam, a cowardly blond boy of some athletic ability. His closest friend, who also acts as Eternia's Man-at-Arms, is the boy's mentor. No one is entirely certain just what Man-at-Arms is teaching him, for he is no soldier."

Benton grimaced irritably and looked behind her again. This appeared to be some kind of laboratory. There were beakers of various shapes and sizes, containing a wide variety of unidentifiable substances. His brow furrowed. Were those chains ending in manacles on the opposite wall?

The woman, Evelyn, or whatever her name was, looked around and saw the direction of his gaze. "Ah, yes, Skeletor has some unsavory entertainments. I tend to avoid this room when he's got prisoners in here."

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "I've run into the type before," he said. "As I said, young woman, I'm more accustomed to being the target of abduction than not."

She smiled slowly. "Interesting. Do you mind if I ask why?"

"I don't mind if you ask," he replied politely. "But I have no intention of answering."

Her eyes snapped violet fire at him, and he returned her glare with a bland look. Her clothing was outlandish. She looked as though she were preparing to appear on some form of science fiction - or perhaps fantasy - television show. Perhaps Xena, Warrior Princess. Jonny and Hadji had watched that show obsessively for a while. This woman's garb was all purple and black with bone decorations, and bared most of her arms and all of her legs to the tops of her knee-high boots. He rolled his eyes. Jessie would laugh if she could see her. Race's daughter was always making fun of the women in those fantasy films for showing off more skin than anyone should in a battle situation.

"Frankly I don't believe these claims of yours," she said, her tone growing strident. "If you had really run into someone like Skeletor in the past, you would not dismiss your peril so lightly."

He shrugged. "You may believe what you like. I don't feel the need to prove myself to you."

"Perhaps the real reason you are so unconcerned is that you don't believe we will harm you - or anyone else we get hold of?" Her eyes were hostile as she said this, and she fingered the staff she held at her side as she spoke.

Benton rigidly controlled his nerves, not wanting to show how much this threat worried him. "I am not unconcerned. I simply don't see the point of babbling in fear, and I don't choose to give way to your demands simply because you have made them."

She eyed him assessingly. "Well, why don't I continue in my description of Randor?" she said. He shrugged. "Randor is a tall man, broadly built, a swordfighter of unusual prowess." Her eyes roamed his figure, and he ignored her attempt to make him feel insecure. "He has dark hair, longer than yours, and his beard is less closely trimmed."

An unpleasant odor reached his nostrils, and he glanced down at his Erlenmeyer flask. The contents were beginning to bubble, and he raised an eyebrow. "You might want to find me a way to dispose of that," he said, glancing up at her.

She stood up and peered in. "Is it dangerous?"

He snorted. "I wish. If it was, you'd be wearing it." Her eyes flashed with ire and he said, "No, it's merely degrading and will stink to high heaven before long."

She pointed the crystal sphere on the end of her staff at it and a beam of light shot out, annihilating the contents of the flask, while leaving the glass intact. "We can't have that," she said. "Now -"

The door behind her slammed open and a pair of . . . people . . . ran in. One appeared to be a man in some kind of protective gear, and the other was a bee that was well over six feet tall. Benton leapt out of the chair in alarm. The woman did, too, and she lowered her staff at them, firing off a lightning bolt at the bee, which leapt into the air, agilely dodging the bolt and flying straight at her. She pressed back against the bars, but then a blast of energy hit the bee, knocking him against the wall. Benton looked across the room and saw a tall, wiry man with blue skin and what appeared to be a red metal prosthetic jaw. One of his arms seemed to be a cannon of some variety. The bee slammed into the wall and fell to the ground. The woman moved away from the cell door and aimed her staff at the man in the protective suit.

The cyborg yelled something incomprehensible at her, to which she replied, "They must be after him, though how they know he's here is beyond me!"

An enormous man wearing a flat-topped helm and a red tunic came in behind the cyborg and slammed him to the ground with a club the size of Race's leg. The man in the protective suit ran up to the bars and stared through them. Benton backed away, around the chair. He was no man. Though his body was a man's, the face inside the helmet was that of a green, bug-eyed monster. ** When am I going to wake up? Now would good! ** Putting his hands on the bars, the monster pulled, spreading them wide enough for Benton to squeeze through. When he was done, something happened that was enough to make Benton fall over from astonishment.

The creature's head, within the suit, spun, and a new face was revealed, that of a man with very odd coloring. He reached out a hand through the bars and spoke. Benton couldn't understand a word. He looked around to see where the woman had gone. She may have been an amoral villain, but at least he could understand her. She, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The bee was up on its feet now, and looking around the room as he rubbed his head. His wings whirred loudly. Abruptly, a young woman darted into the room, nimbly jumping over the fallen cyborg. She spoke first to the behemoth who now stood stolidly, his club at the ready. Then she spoke to the bee and finally she walked over to the cell.

The bizarre, multi-faced creature pointed at him and said something. The girl stepped into the cell. She had immensely long red hair, much the same color as Jessie's, and her eyes were green. Her garments were exceptionally brief and Benton found himself looking away. It seemed foolish, however. Jessie's last bathing suit showed considerably more of her body. The girl carried a long cobra-headed staff, and she peered in at him uneasily.

She spoke to him, a long string of fluid syllables that meant nothing to his ears. He shook his head. "I don't understand."

Her brows knit and she shrugged. She beckoned to him urgently. Then there was a chime and she picked up a small box at her belt. To his eyes it looked to be some form of communicator. A voice spoke, and she responded. Her eyes grew first worried, then annoyed and finally distressed as the voice continued to speak. She turned to the others in the room and gave some sort of command. Then she beckoned once more to him. He started slowly towards her, but when he didn't move swiftly enough for her tastes, she peremptorily grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cell.

It was an odd company, and he had no idea whether or not he was going from the frying pan to the fire, but he went with them. Just as the reached the door, however, he caught the girl's arm and held up a finger. He dashed back and snatched up the bit of vellum Evelyn had been fiddling with while she questioned him. He had a strong suspicion that it was of some importance. He turned back and joined them where they were waiting impatiently.

Fortunately for his comfort, the bee had taken off already and flew off ahead of them. They arrived outside in twilit darkness on a ledge over an enormous lava field. The heat rose off it in waves. He looked around and realized that there was no way he was anywhere on Earth. Not his Earth, at any rate. The large man took his arm and said something. He looked up in startlement into a pair of very blue, very earnest, very innocent eyes. Persuaded by the expression of anxious concern he saw there, he allowed himself to be helped into a vehicle which almost immediately took off.

They flew away over the lava fields, which seemed to stretch broadly over the countryside. Far more broadly than he would have expected. Gradually, the fields of lava thinned and they came to a land that was merely desolate and dark. With the lava left behind, much of the ambient light was gone as well. He looked up see a sky full of star formations that were utterly unfamiliar. ** Where in the universe am I? ** he wondered. ** And how are Race and the kids going to find me here? **

Benton was slumped in the back of the flying vehicle, surrounded by strangers who didn't speak his language. When a light appeared in the sky on the horizon, he sat up and peered forward. The young woman spoke to him, pointing toward the light.

He shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, miss, I don't understand you." He considered trying other languages, but he was persuaded that he was not anywhere that French, Japanese or Arabic was going to be understood. She kept trying, and he kept repeating himself. She was a very persistent child. Unlike the woman back at Snake Mountain, she seemed very young for all that she was clearly in charge of this troop of mismatched warriors. The large man sat in the copilot's seat while the peculiar creature who had freed him from his cell piloted the vehicle. The bee flew ahead of them, apparently scouting the territory.

Benton was just glad the creature wasn't any closer. He liked to think he was a fairly open-minded man, but he did have a prejudice that insects should be smaller than he was.

They landed in a large courtyard, and as soon as they were on the ground, the girl in the seat next to him leapt out of the vehicle and ran over to a large man with a mustache and a pony tail. She threw herself into his arms. The other warriors climbed out of the vehicle, and the large man put out a hand to help Benton down. He shook his head and jumped down on his own. He wasn't completely helpless, after all.

He found himself the center of attention. A tall man wearing a dark red tunic, a white fur cape and a coronet walked toward him. His hair was dark and fell loosely around his face, and he wore a beard. Benton looked up and him and said, "Randor?"

The man's eyes widened, but when he responded, Benton could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

The girl walked up and spoke to the man who must be her king. The man with the pony tail walked up and the trio had a brief conference after which Randor put a hand on Benton's shoulder and gestured toward one of the buildings.

Keeping a wary eye on the bee, he accompanied the king inside. The bee and the other warriors seemed to be heading elsewhere, leaving him with the king and his . . . man at arms, perhaps, and the young woman. They led him into a pleasant room with wide windows where a woman was fussing over a young man, a blond boy of teen-aged years. Benton looked at him with interest. He had a cut on his forehead, and the woman seemed to be heckling the older man who was bandaging it.

The girl walked up and said something that he thought included the word "Adam" in it, but he wasn't entirely sure. But from the mixture of exasperation and fondness on Randor's face, he'd guess that this was the king's son, and Jonny's counterpart in the spell if Evelyn was to be believed.

The boy opened his mouth to speak, looking curiously at Benton, but then a tiny creature in a red tunic flew into view and right up to Benton. He had a red pointed hat, a gold belt and wore a scarf that masked his face. Only glowing yellow eyes showed above it.

Startled, nearly past his ability to cope with the realities he was faced with, Benton let out a yelp and stumbled backward. The creature turned toward Randor and spoke. Randor answered him, and the creature's eyes widened. He said something that sounded maniacally cheerful, then raised his hands above his head and began to chant something

Randor spoke in an alarmed voice, but before he could do anything, light flashed from the creature's blue hands, nearly blinding Benton. Then the creature spoke again. "Hello! What's your name?"

Benton blinked. "You speak English?" he asked.

"Nope. The spell just translates for you. And me."

Benton shook his head. "What are you?" he asked in a breathless voice.

"The court jester," he said. "And sort of the court magician. My name's Orko."

"Orko, you did it!" the girl said. "Your spell actually worked!"

"Orko?" Benton repeated, feeling very dazed, barely even noticing that the girl's words were comprehensible. "Not from Ork, please, not for Ork."

"Ork?" the creature said in puzzlement. "No, I'm from Trolla."

Stunned, Benton had images of little tiny blue creatures from a children's cartoon. "Smurfs?" He was slowly backing away when he bumped into something at just above knee level. Expecting to find a dog, he glanced down into the eyes of a large green and yellow tiger. He opened his mouth, aware that a scream was on its way, and then his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.

"So, my dear Evil-Lyn," Skeletor said, crimson light flashing in his eyes. "Just what did our visitor say before the masters arrived and took him away?

"Nothing of import," Evil-Lyn replied. "He refused to answer my questions point blank. All I know for certain is that he has a young son who is, in fact, blond, and that he was hostile towards me."

"That's not much use, Evil-Lyn," Skeletor replied. "And since those idiotic masters rescued him so promptly, we have to assume that he has some importance."

"He did say he's used to being abducted."

"Well that seems a little odd, don't you think?"

"It certainly suggests that there's something of interest about him." She smiled slyly. "Would you like me to fetch his son? I have a strong suspicion that he'll be more cooperative when the boy's here."

Skeletor let out a delighted chuckle. "Yes, Evil-Lyn, I think that would be quite suitable."