Chapter 14 The Power of Life and Death
"Duncan, he's not breathing!" Randor exclaimed, staring in horror at the scene. "Duncan!"
"I can see that, your highness," Duncan said.
"Demons take that evil –"
"Randor, quiet!" Duncan hissed. People will hear you."
Randor choked down on his anger. He would pay. Sooner or later that vile wretch would pay.
"That's mine," Adam said stupidly when he started breathing again. The blade had stopped vibrating, but it was still stuck firmly in the wood of the table.
"I know. That just makes it poetic."
"Thanks," Adam said breathlessly as the imposter yanked the blade back out of the wood. "I've been wondering where that went." The doppelganger wiped the point of the blade with great care, reaching over into their medical kit for some alcohol. Adam's eyes widened as he considered the implications of this. He tried for insouciance. "That'll make cutting through bandages a lot easier." It came out sounding apprehensive.
The imposter shrugged. "Along with causing a need for more."
Adam wanted to know what the monster planned to do with the knife, but he didn't want to ask, didn't want to seem weak. The adrenaline that had come with the hysteria had gone and left his muscles feeling drained of energy. He stared transfixed at the flashing blade as the fellow turned it in his hand.
"What are you going to do with that?" Teela asked from behind the forcefield.
The fellow glanced over at her, then looked toward the ceiling. "Randor? Do you want to answer that question?" He made an arcane gesture and spoke.
"What?" Adam cried. "My father? No!"
His father's voice came from above them. "Can they hear us?"
"Yes, you fool," the imposter said. "Or I wouldn't ask you questions."
Adam glared at the imposter, putting his hands flat on the table, preparatory to rising. "Don't you call my father a fool!"
The double wrapped his fingers in Adam's hair again.
"No, Adam, don't antagonize him," Randor's voice exclaimed. Adam froze in the chair. His father sounded worried, almost frantic. He closed his eyes and set his teeth, trying to remain calm. He didn't want to give his father anything more to worry about.
"Yes, Randor. Do tell your little boy to behave himself." Adam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep from slamming the imposter in the gut with his elbow.
"Your point is made," Randor said, his voice firm with an undertone of panic. "You don't need to do anything."
The imposter gave Adam's head a shake. "I don't think you quite understand it. Not with all this talk of stalling me." Adam sat stony faced, refusing to react to anything. "So, just what do you suppose I plan to do, your highness?"
"Please, don't hurt him." The shake in his father's voice made Adam want to throw the imposter into the wall and punch him until he was – he was –
"I think you need an object lesson."
"No, don't! I'm building your excavator as fast as I can," Man-at-Arms said. Teela's eyes widened, but she didn't speak.
"No! No, Man-at-Arms! Don't do anything he says!" Pain shot through Adam's skull as the imposter slammed his head down onto the table again, then leaned across his shoulders, holding him down.
"You forget, mechanic, I'm not holding him against the machine's completion any longer." Adam felt a chill. What was he talking about? "Your daughter is hostage to that. What happens to Adam doesn't concern you."
"I'm afraid that I feel differently," Duncan said. Go with that, Duncan, Adam thought.
"How you feel does not concern me, mechanic. Unless, of course, you want me to take action against your daughter." Adam stiffened, and the imposter dug his elbow harder into his back. "I needn't lift 'a violent finger' against her and inspire the king's wrath to cause her serious difficulties. For starters, I could just leave her behind that forcefield for a day or two." There was a brief silence. Adam really hoped he wouldn't do that. "This is between me and Randor. You ought to go back to work or I might take the notion that you're slacking off."
Duncan glared down into the viewer, then snatched up a pad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling furiously.
Randor watched for a moment, then said, "I'm giving you what you want. I won't try to stall any more."
He could see Adam struggle against the imposter's restraining hand that held his face cruelly down against the table. Finally, the boy managed to get out two words. "Father, no!" The weasel's eyes glinted with anger as he looked down at the prince.
Randor opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan tapped him on the shoulder and thrust the pad of paper in his face. Beg, plead, sound weak. He likes that. Randor pursed his lips. Duncan was right, but he hoped Adam wouldn't become too upset and antagonize the villain further.
"Please, I beg of you," he said, allowing his desperation to color his words. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt him."
Adam was stunned. His father was begging! The sound of his voice, pleading with the imposter, made him writhe with humiliation on his father's behalf. The imposter chuckled, the sound of it vibrating through Adam's body, making him shudder. "You've said that before, old man. Why should I believe you now?" He took hold of Adam's right wrist and dragged his hand forward on the table. What was he doing? Adam began to feel vague stirrings of panic.
Duncan was scribbling madly again, and Randor watched in horror as the man forced Adam's hand into easy reach of his knife. He was going to do it, Randor thought sickly. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. Please don't punish Adam for my actions."
"You knew he was hostage to your actions, Randor. You knew this would be coming."
Duncan thrust the pad at him again, and he read rapidly. Stroke his ego. De-escalate him! Let him back down from this.
Randor thought hastily. "You've been very patient with me. You're right, I am a fool. You've beaten me. Skeletor never could, but you've beaten me." Randor could see Teela staring upwards, clearly dumbfounded by what she was hearing. She leaned limply against the force field, eyes wide.
"Father, no!" Adam cried. "You rotten creep. My father is ten times the man you'll ever be! He hasn't beaten you, Father! He hasn't!"
Randor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wished Adam would fall silent. Not that the sentiments weren't pleasing, but they were bound to irritate the imposter.
"Adam," he said, trying to think what to say that might get Adam to quiet down. "Please don't make this harder for me. He's right, this is my fault. Please don't annoy him further." He bit his lip and addressed their mutual tormenter. "Don't hurt him. He doesn't understand, he's just a boy. He doesn't realize what you are." A dead man when I get my hands on you, he thought.
"Maybe you have started to develop some sense after all," the imposter said slowly, but he was still leaning across Adam, still holding his right wrist firmly in place, still playing with the dagger, now drawing it slowly back and forth across the back of Adam's hand, not cutting, but every stroke made Randor's blood boil. His son's fingers were twitching, flexing, but he clearly couldn't move. What more could he say to make this maniac back down from this course?
He cleared his throat. "I know, now, that you can do whatever you want. I see that there is no way I can stop you."
The imposter looked up and smiled broadly. "No, you're quite right, you can't stop me," he said slowly. "You can only get your son killed." As if to emphasize this point, he yanked Adam's head back abruptly and set the dagger against his throat, the tip pricking the skin. A single drop of blood beaded up at the pressure point.
Randor's world narrowed suddenly to that tiny space and those two children. Teela had braced her back against the corner and was shoving with all her might against the forcefield which wouldn't budge. And Adam. . . Adam's jaw was set with angry defiance, but his eyes were tightly closed, as though he didn't want to see his fate coming. His entire body was trembling. "Please, no," Randor whispered. His voice strengthened, and he said, "Don't! Please don't!"
The imposter didn't speak, just smiled down at the shaking boy before him, turning the blade against his throat, as though trying to decide at which angle to cut. There was a bizarre glee in his eyes, and Randor was suddenly terrified that the monster was finding the simple idea of killing far too tempting. Teela slammed her fist against the forcefield. There had to be some way to distract the weasel from his rapt contemplation of his power over Adam's life.
"I won't interfere with your plans in any way," Randor said in a calm, placatory voice. "Please stop."
Apparently startled out of his reverie, the imposter looked up. He looked irritated, but he glanced down at Adam and pursed his lips. Then he released him with a shove. Adam fell sideways out of the chair to land in a heap on the floor, one hand going to the trickle of blood on his throat. An alarming amount of blood seemed to be issuing from between his fingers, but Randor heaved a sigh of relief. The wound was clearly not mortal, nor even very serious.
"Still, you appear to have truly learned your lesson at last." He turned a contemptuous glance on the prince, still sprawled on the floor, laboriously pulling himself out of easy reach. Randor wanted to scoop Adam into his arms and carry him to the infirmary, but that would have to wait on the imposter's whim. Instead, he gazed with hatred on their tormentor. "I suppose I can afford to be magnanimous," the imposter drawled. He took two steps back, created a portal, and stepped through it.
Randor leaned forward, hoping against hope that the imposter had left the communication link open. "Adam?" he said. "Can you still hear me?"
Adam looked up in surprise, hand still pressed against the cut on his neck. "Father! Don't listen to that jerk! Don't do what he says! This isn't your fault!"
"I have no choice," Randor said with emphasis. "Hold on, son. I'm going to get you out of there."
"But – "
"Don't antagonize him! We've tried his patience too far already. Don't push him any further!"
"But, Father – "
Duncan jumped in to say, "Adam! Don't argue. Listen to your father." Biting his lip, Duncan asked, "Teela, are you all right?"
At that moment, the forcefield gave way and Teela barely stopped herself from falling flat on the floor. "I'm fine!" She ran to Adam's side. "Is everyone there okay?" She tried to pry Adam's hand off his neck. "Let me see!"
"We're all fine," Duncan said. "Don't worry about us."
Adam slapped Teela's hands away. "Father, how's Mother?" he asked urgently.
"She's fine, Adam. She's in Avion on a state visit." Adam blinked, but he didn't say anything. "Adam," Randor wet his lips, "I love you."
"This could end at any time," Duncan said. "Be ready to get out of there quickly. Everything will be fine." he gave Randor an ironic glance. "And just for the record, I love you, too. Actually, I love you both."
"Are you one-upping me, Duncan?" Randor asked wryly. Duncan just raised his eyebrows and looked bland.
Adam looked up at the ceiling with an exasperated expression, face flaming. "Ummm, I love you, too, Dad." Then, after a moment, "You, too, Duncan."
Teela opened her mouth. "I thi – " The sound cut off abruptly, and Randor grimaced and slammed his fist on the workbench beside him. It took the children a few moments to realize that the communication had been cut off. He watched Adam slam his fist repeatedly against the floor until Teela made him stop.
"Like father, like son," Duncan said. Then he got up, gave his king a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and went back to work. Randor watched them until lunch came.