Chapter 12



What if their plan was to drop him off the cliff? To get him out a ways and then - just - let go? Adam could feel himself shuddering, and started trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down. The last thing he needed to do at this moment was to shake himself loose.

They didn't drop him over the lowlands. Instead, they flew him to the high ground to the southwest and let go when he was about three feet up. Adam cried out as he fell, but the landing knocked the wind out of him. A moment later, Beastman's ugly face loomed up over him.

"Won't Skeletor be pleased when I present you to him on a platter?" Still struggling to breathe, Adam had a horrible vision of himself, roasted, as the main course of a meal at Snake Mountain. Surely he didn't - surely he wouldn't - Then Adam's thoughts broke utterly. He-Man had suddenly appeared above and behind Beastman. His eyes widened and he stared at the half-familiar face in bewilderment. A stray thought wandered through his brain. ** Do I really look like that? **

"Does that thought frighten you, boy?" Beastman demanded, obviously enjoying Adam's alarmed expression. Then he blinked, clearly realizing that Adam wasn't looking at him.

He whirled, and He-Man - Adam's mind was still boggling - picked him up and threw into a rock ten feet away. Part of Adam noticed that He-Man's hands never actually seemed to touch Beastman's body, but it must have seemed so to Beastman, who fell to the ground, unconscious.

Adam stared up at the colossal figure, his brain still frozen by the impossibility of what he was seeing. The massive man stood tall, hands fisted on his hips. Unless - Man-at-Arms had used a robot to fool Skeletor when he'd been kidnaped the last time - No, he dismissed that notion. There had been no time to prepare. So who was this?

"Who are you?" he demanded.

***

Evil-Lyn gazed down at the idiot boy before her. Couldn't he recognize He-Man when he saw him? Unless that short fall had addled his wits. Of course, there weren't that many wits to addle. When she didn't immediately respond to his ridiculous question, he commenced screaming for help. There was no one around to hear him and come to his aid, but Evil-Lyn grew quickly tired of the incessant sound and send a bolt of energy into his head to knock him out.

What an ungrateful wretch. She wondered why He-Man even bothered.

***

A distant dripping was the first sound that came to Adam's awareness. He didn't want to open his eyes. If he was at home and fine, his mother would speak to him soon, and then he would open his eyes. But the air around him was hot and dry, and he could feel warm air against his toes. His legs complained without surcease, and he was lying on a hard, slightly uneven surface. Something heavy and cold rested in a line across his stomach. Somehow, he didn't think he was safe at home.

The voice that spoke a few moments later persuaded him that he was right.

"However did you get him away from He-Man, Evil-Lyn?" Skeletor sounded pleased, almost proud of his witch. Adam tried not to move. Surely the bone-faced monstrosity wouldn't kill him if he wasn't awake to experience it.

"I have my methods," Evil-Lyn drawled. "They wouldn't work for you." For a moment, Adam wondered what she meant. Then he realized, and the image of Evil-Lyn flirting coyly with He-Man made him want to gag.

Skeletor, however, let out one of those cacophonous laughs. Adam found himself suddenly hoping that his father would lead the masters here right about now.

"So, boy." A hard hand came down and pressed on his thigh right where his stitches were. Adam jumped violently at the pain, and jerked when Skeletor spoke again, seeming very close. "Are you going to stop playing possum and open your eyes?"

He opened his eyes to see Skeletor's bony face not four inches away from his. The sight of those empty sockets so close gave him cold shivers, and he started trying to drag himself backwards, away from the Lord of Snake Mountain. A metallic rattling met his ears, and the weight on his stomach shifted slightly. He looked down to see that his wrists were manacled together with a length of chain. Skeletor laughed again, like a madman, and, giving Adam's stitches a final dig with his thumb, he stood up.

Evil Lyn stood beside and slightly behind him. Adam scanned his surroundings. They were in the throne room, and Adam lay on the floor a few feet before the stairs leading to the throne. There didn't appear to be anyone else present. Did that mean that Skeletor was having a private audience with his current favorite, or wasn't there anybody else around?

"So, Skeletor, how do you plan to get rid of the boy?" Evil Lyn asked, a malicious thrill in her voice. Adam's gut chilled. He didn't want to be awake for this. Really.

Skeletor gazed down at Adam. It was unnerving, that gaze through the hollow sockets of the skull. With no flesh, no eyes, nothing there, that sense of vile malevolence shouldn't come across, but it did. Adam tried not to change expression, not to move. He could not escape. Even if he tried to drag himself away, his casts would hinder him more than the chains did, and Skeletor and Evil Lyn would have a good laugh at his expense. There was no point in giving them further satisfaction.

"I will have to give it some thought," the master of Snake Mountain said slowly. "Something properly creative must be found." He gave Adam a hideous grin. "And in the meantime, I'm sure I can find some use for the cowardly Prince of Eternia." Adam clenched his teeth against a bitter retort. If he couldn't defend himself from slurs of cowardice from his friends, still less could he do so before his enemies.

"What the - " Another voice spoke from one of the cavernous entrances to the throne room. Adam glanced back to see who had entered and saw Trap Jaw. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the floor. Wonderful, just wonderful! Another tormenter. "Hey, who got the prince?" he asked.

"Not you, you metal mandibled moron!" snapped Skeletor.

"Well, yeah, I know," Trap Jaw said, in a perplexed voice, continuing into the room. Adam winced as the villain's feet stopped inches from his right leg. "Hey," he said after a moment's observation. "Look at the cute pajamas."

Adam opened his eyes. What was he talking about? He glanced down at himself and saw that he was wearing green silk pajamas with the royal crest embroidered in dark green and purple on the left breast. Just below that was a letter A, also in green and purple. And now he knew what project his mother had been working on, because he'd never had monogrammed pajamas before. And he'd thought this moment couldn't get any worse.

Evil-Lyn went down on one knee next to him, and took the collar of the shirt between thumb and forefingers. "Silk!" She ran her fingers across his chest and the embroidery. Her touch made him shudder. "So is this what your sweet mother spent so many hours on?" she asked, her voice dripping with saccharine.

He couldn't stop himself. He grabbed for her with both hands, ready to strangle her. Eyes flashing pale lavender, she lifted a hand and let forth a burst of energy that knocked him back so hard that his head smacked against the floor.

Trap Jaw reached down and lifted the chain at the center and held it high enough that his arms were hoisted into the air, neatly immobilizing him.

Rising to her feet, Evil-Lyn spoke in scathing tones. "If you insist on keeping him, at least make it more difficult for him to escape."

Skeletor looked consideringly at Evil Lyn, and then back down at Adam. He raised the ram's headed staff and pointed it at the prince. Trap Jaw hastily dropped the chain, and it thumped down on Adam's chest. Skeletor was going to kill him. The time had come. Adam steeled himself for the blow.

When it came, though, he opened his eyes in shock. The blast of power from the staff hadn't killed him, it had merely obliterated the casts. Little bits of plaster littered the throne room. Adam nearly bit through his lip as his legs fell the couple of inches to the hard, uneven floor. The skin where the casts had been felt like it was on fire. There was a large part of his mind that wished that someone would just kill him, and get it over with.

He trod firmly on that thought. His death was not the answer.

"Now, Trap Jaw, pick the young prince up and throw him into a nice, comfortable cell."

Despite all the clenched teeth and deep breathing he could do, nothing could keep Adam from screaming as Trap Jaw lifted him roughly from the floor. He could barely hear the laughter of Evil Lyn and Skeletor over the sound of his own cries.

As Trap Jaw released him, Adam felt himself turn in the air. All the training he'd received from Man-at-Arms on how to fall without injuring himself ran uselessly through his mind. They had never addressed what to do when you had a chain linking your wrists and two unsplinted, unprotected broken legs. He could tell that he was going to land on his face, so he brought his hands up to protect his eyes. His left wrist smashed into something as he landed, and he had a sinking feeling that another serious injury had been added to his tally. Now if he could only survive long enough to get treated for it.

When he landed he kept rolling, so he wound up on his back, looking up at a shadowy ceiling. He lay still, wrists draped across his chest, the left one throbbing, his legs gone past pain into some whole new dimension. Dorgan would be furious. Lying there, Adam reflected that it could be worse. He could be chained atop a pillar of stone in the middle of a pool of lava waiting for someone who wouldn't come. Of course, this time there was little chance that Teela would show up with a rude remark and rescue him.

After a few moments simply laying there, regaining his breath, Adam struggled to a sitting position. He would not just lie here on the floor of Skeletor's prison waiting for whatever was to come. The back wall of the cell wasn't far. Pushing between his legs with his right hand and all the strength he could muster in his torso, he shoved himself across the cell to where he could lean against the back wall and sit up facing the door. There he rested, panting. His hopes were split evenly down the middle. If the next being through that door was Skeletor or one of his hirelings, he would prefer a long wait. If it was his father or Man-at-Arms, they could come in right now. He just hoped they'd remember the stretcher.

***

Evil-Lyn sat in a corner of the throne room, listening to Skeletor gloat as though he'd achieved some great victory today. That sycophant Trap Jaw fed his ego so willingly that he didn't seem to notice that Evil-Lyn wasn't joining in. Not surprising, really. The last thing Skeletor ever wanted to be reminded of was failures he had been present for. The next-to-last thing was being reminded that someone else had been partially or - heaven forfend - entirely responsible for 'his' success. He'd likely not think to call for her for some time yet.

And he didn't know about her new little toy that let her spy into the castle. It was more limited than Tri-Klops' Doomseekers anyway, so Skeletor would undoubtedly be less than interested. With an arcane gesture, she pulled it out of the pocket dimension she stored all such things in, and, gazing deeply into it, she envisioned that tower room where they'd hidden the prince after she and Beastman had failed to remove him from the palace. A surge of annoyance distracted her. How had that grotesque furball managed to succeed where she had not?

She had to stop and start again when her irritation with Beastman overcame her ability to concentrate. Once again, she set herself to envisioning that room, where she was sure that at least some part of the boy's family would be. Her eyes flashed a deep green, and the image materialized in the mirror. Randor's delicate queen sat next to the harpy on the bed, arm around her. Teela was speaking, and her expression was one of fury. Evil-Lyn smiled. Poor dear child, proven incompetent to protect her little prince. How terribly she must feel her failure. Well, it was her turn.

The queen, however, didn't seem nearly as upset or desperate as Evil-Lyn would have expected. Her single chick was missing and she looked - placatory? What possible reason could she have to placate that wretched Teela? And where was Randor? Why wasn't he comforting his precious queen? And that darling Man-at-Arms? Where was he? The two women were alone in the room apart from a quartet of handsome but quite ordinary guards.

She banished the image and looked elsewhere in the palace. It took time, and energy, but she had a feeling that something was wrong. Everywhere she looked, people appeared to be actively worried, but they also had a determined air about them, as of people who knew that something was going to be done about what troubled them. And she didn't see even one of the masters.

"Skeletor?" she exclaimed, banishing the image and the mirror in one wave.

"What, Evil-Lyn?" the bony fool demanded. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Where are the others? Is anyone here but we three?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What, are you looking for an audience to show off in front of? Believe me, Evil-Lyn, you'll have a much more gratifying reaction if they've spent the day attempting to reach the prince and return to find that he's already here."

She rose to her feet. "No, you fool! You must call them back!"

He stood slowly, gaze gone dangerously intent. "You dare to call me fool?" he said in a perilous tone. "I am -"

"Going to give me my son back, now!" Randor's voice thundered through the throne room, echoes serving to reinforce the demand.