Chapter Two
Hordak- leader of armies, instigator of wars, second-in-command to the most ruthless despot any world had ever encountered- snorted once again, intense displeasure stamped upon his ridged, white countenance.
"My master," the witch known as Shadow Weaver tried in her own, raspy way to appease the creature, "Your mission was a success. You have the child."
"I would hardly call this," he flung a hand at the figure kneeling before him, "a success."
"But, my liege…"
"There were two children, Weaver," Hordak snarled, "Two destinies, and I am now in control of only one."
"But, Lord Hordak, it is one more than you controlled before."
He snorted again, this time with a bit less vehemence, and rubbed his forehead as another round of screaming issued forth from a corner of the large room.
"Why is it still crying?" he roared at Shadow Weaver. "Is no one able to calm the thing down?
The enchantress was struggling for a response when a third voice addressed them both.
"She cries because she is scared."
Hordak quickly located the source of the sound and began shaking in rage.
"You are scaring her," the woman at his feet continued, "Your yelling scares her."
"Is that so?"
The warlord reached down, grabbed a fistful of the woman's auburn tresses, and pulled upward, forcing his second captive to her feet. He then pushed his face close to hers until there was only an inch or two between them. The woman's jaw was clenched in both pain and rage, yet still she managed to speak.
"I can calm her," she looked directly into his red eyes, "I can make her stop crying."
"You can die, is what you can do!" Hordak hissed.
He grabbed the laser gun strapped to his thigh, jerked the woman's head back, and held the weapon to the hollow of her slender throat.
"Wait, my lord!"
Hordak looked to his witch and snorted.
"Perhaps she is right," Shadow Weaver rasped, "We have no other woman capable of caring for the child."
"That is what you are here for!" Hordak snapped.
"I have it on good authority that babies require constant care," Shadow Weaver responded, "and your plans for this world call for a great deal of my time. I simply do not see how I can care for this child and still fulfill my other obligations to you."
"Go on."
"There is, of course, also the matter of the child's nourishment."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," Shadow Weaver said, "that this woman is able to nurse the girl. I cannot."
"I am certain that we could devise other forms of feeding. Still," Hordak lowered his weapon ever so slightly and smiled, "It is both a practical and intriguing solution."
He loosened his grip on the woman's hair, allowing her head to fall forward.
"Imagine it, Weaver," he mused, "When it is time for that girl to fulfill her destiny, we'll return to Eternia with Randor's daughter as our loyal servant and his wife as our prisoner; then I will have my chance to get the other child, too."
He snorted heartily, this time in pleasure, and ran a finger down his captive's cheek.
"Just think, my dear," he breathed into her hair, "The Royal Family of Eternia reunited at last, but under my rule."
The baby's cries became louder, as if she somehow knew that her parent was being tormented. Hordak broke his hold on the woman, catching her against his body as she swayed. He turned her in the direction of her child's cries and laughed.
"Alright, Marlena. You said you can make her stop crying. Let us see if you are correct."
He laughed and snorted again, but all Marlena could hear were the screams of her baby. She walked briskly across the room, leaned over the small metal trunk in which her daughter lay, and gently picked up the wailing child. Adora's pale skin was now bright red from her screaming fit, and wisps of blonde hair were plastered to her tear-soaked face. She gasped for breath, coughed, and resumed screaming.
After positioning the baby so that her blonde head rested against her mother's shoulder, Marlena cupped one hand over the curve of Adora's skull and ran the other in a circular motion over her daughter's back. A slight tremor ran through Adora's tiny body at the physical contact.
"It's okay," Marlena began to murmur, "I'm here. Mommy's right here…"
She walked to and fro across the room, watching Hordak and Shadow Weaver even as she continued to rub Adora's back and speak softly to her.
"I know you're scared, but no one is going to hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you…"
Adora's screams began to subside, and the tears soaking through the fabric of Marlena's gown soon became fewer in number.
"That's a good girl," Marlena whispered once Adora was calm and quiet, "That's my good, brave girl."
"Very impressive," a raspy voice cut through the silence, "Wouldn't you agree, Lord Hordak?"
"Indeed I would."
The man stepped closer to the mother and child and regarded them for a long moment.
"Congratulations, Marlena," he finally said, "You get to stay alive."
The woman refrained from glaring at her captor; instead, she lightly kissed the top of Adora's head and brushed a thin lock of hair away from the child's face.
Hordak, Shadow Weaver, and a dozen robot troopers marched the Eternian queen and princess to their new quarters. The metal grating beneath their feet and above their heads vibrated with the hum of machinery. Occasionally a group of troopers would file past carrying large pieces of metal, leading one to believe that these automatons were the extent of Hordak's labor force. Yet there were at least three instances during the journey when Marlena was certain she heard a whip cracking, followed by a shriek. The third time this happened, Adora began to whimper softly.
"Shhh," Marlena patted the child's back and murmured into her small ear, "I'm still here. Mommy's still here."
They walked for fifteen minutes before stopping in front of a black metal door. Engraved in the middle was the Horde symbol: a facsimile of a blood-red bat, its wings stretched as if in flight. Hordak pulled on the handle, grunting with apparent effort as the door creaked open. Weak light crept toward them, and Marlena could see that the floor of the space beyond was solid black marble.
"Here we are, my dear," Hordak's voice was almost jovial as he gestured past the door, "Your new home."
He nodded at something behind her, and one of the robot troopers pushed her roughly forward. The heel of her shoe caught in the grating below; she started to fall, prompting Hordak to catch her arm in a numbing grip.
"Careful, now. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
He placed his other hand against the center of Marlena's back and shoved her into the room. He released her arm at the same moment, and she barely managed to remain upright.
"Enjoy your stay," Hordak snorted before slamming the door. A second later, Marlena heard the distinct click of a key being turned, followed by laughter and receding footsteps.
Marlena turned her back to the door and surveyed their prison. It was small- each of the walls spanning a mere ten feet across- and black from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself was only three feet above her head. A narrow mattress had been placed against the far wall, and a mud-colored blanket was folded at one end. There was no pillow.
The sickly light that Marlena had seen earlier emanated from the four corners of the ceiling; yet there were no lighting fixtures there, and there did not appear to be any buttons or switches with which to control the weak glow. Marlena decided that the light must be controlled by an outside source, which meant that it could vanish at any moment, leaving the imprisoned queen and her daughter in complete darkness.
A wooden bucket sat in the far right corner, and Marlena went to investigate. Perhaps it contained water. A cursory glance, however, proved that this was not the case. She regarded it for another second before realizing that it must be meant to serve as a makeshift toilet. She lifted the container. It was of insubstantial weight, and though completely solid, the wood was very thin. Instead of the metal handle that accompanied most buckets, two wooden handles jutted out.
Whoever prepared this room had known what they were about. There was no metal, no glass, no heavy woodnothing that Marlena could use as a weapon against her captors. Her father, a hearty advocate of self-defense training, had taught Marlena that almost any object could become a weapon if used in the correct manner. Right now, though, none of those objects were in the woman's vicinity. The rings on her fingers- her wedding band and one of the two Eternian rings of state- contained no sharp stones, and the belt she wore across her waist was of a thin, smooth metal. Her crown had a single spire that could be used as a jabbing point; but that was gone five minutes after she emerged from the portal, having been ripped off her head by Hordak and flung across the room. The action seemed like a good indication of what the tyrant had wished to do to Marlena herself after discovering her presence.
As she contemplated the lack of weaponry, Marlena realized that it hardly mattered. Even if she managed to attack and injure Hordak himself, she would still have to contend with the robot troopers guarding the halls. Not to mention the fact that she was in unfamiliar territory- which meant that she would most likely become lost and then be easily recaptured- and that any attempt at escape might bring harm to her daughter.
Adora whimpered then, pulling Marlena out of her reverie. She kissed the top of her daughter's head and patted her back.
"Are you hungry?" she murmured soothingly. "Is my little one hungry?"
She carried Adora over to the mattress, sat down, and pushed herself into the corner. She shivered; her gown offered little protection against the cold marble.
While nursing Adora, Marlena began making a mental list of the things she would need to care for the infant. Diapers, access to soap and water so that the child could be bathed, warmer clothes to combat the chill of the room… She would also need some sort of cradle; right now it would be too easy for Adora to roll off the mattress, and though the mattress itself was not that far off the ground, the floor below was too hard for Adora to survive any sort of fall.
Other objects came to mind, though these were not so much for Adora's body as they were for her mind. The child needed color and motion to stimulate her brain, and right now the most colorful thing in the room was the white mattress they rested upon. Marlena sighed, then prayed that they would not be here long enough to have to worry about Adora's mental development.
"Your father will come," she whispered almost to herself, "Your father will come very soon, and then we'll all go home."