Chapter 20 – All Hail

When Randor awakened, Adam was cuddled close with his head pillowed on his chest, and Cringer was laying across their feet. Someone had covered them up. Randor shifted slightly, and found that Duncan was looking at him across Adam's still form. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

"I've created the cage you requested. It was really just a different application of that shield I created when Adam was taken to Snake Mountain two months ago."

"Oh. Is the imposter in it already?"

"No. I locked Orko in it. He's going to spend the night trying to get out to test its strength."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Randor asked with some alarm.

"Well, if Orko can't get out, with his irregular and unpredictable magic, I doubt the imposter can."

"That is a point."

"So if Orko's still stuck tomorrow morning, we put the imposter inside.."

"Sounds good," a voice said from Randor's chest. Adam blinked and shifted. "Father?"

"Yes, son?"

"I want something to drink." Duncan nodded and stood up. When he had left the room, Adam looked sleepily up at his father. "Did the imposter really show up again, or did I dream that?"

"It was no dream," Randor said. "But we did catch him, and Man-at-Arms has fashioned a prison for him."

"Oh. Father? Why are we - um - what happened?"

Randor smiled sympathetically. "You had a nightmare, and -"

Adam's eyes widened in memory. "I dreamed that the imposter had trapped me behind a forcefield to use as bait." Adam shook his head, his eyes closed. "He lured you in and set you on fire. I couldn't get to you, I couldn't do anything. And he laughed while you burned."

Randor stroked Adam's hair reassuringly, and for once, he didn't object. "It's all right, Adam. He can't hurt anyone now. Dorgan has him sedated and I have guards on him all the time."

"Does he still look like me?" Adam asked worriedly.

Sighing, Randor said, "I'm afraid so."

"There's got to be something we can do about that. Like not feed him anything but glop unless he transforms." Adam gave a shudder. "By the way, that's the creepiest thing I've ever seen, Evil-Lyn included."

"What do you mean?" Randor asked.

"When I woke up he looked like Raon, but I saw him shapeshift into - into me. It was like he melted. Ugh!" It was a disturbing image. Adam twisted to look him in the face. "Wait, the glass from the window. Are you all right?"

"It was nothing, Adam, just some cuts on my legs." Randor was alarmed as Adam dropped his head and began to shake. Was he crying again? "Adam, it's all right, I'm fine." Adam looked up again and Randor saw that he was laughing helplessly. "What is it?"

"I have a concussion and you have scratched up legs." Randor shook his head, baffled by what Adam could possibly find funny in that. "He really did manage to make us match, didn't he?" Randor gritted his teeth as a surge of anger ran through him. What did he have to do to keep villains like the weasel and Skeletor away from his son? While Adam shook in semi-hysterical laughter, Randor struggled to keep him from sensing his anger. Finally, as the laughter subsided, Adam relaxed in his father's embrace. "He was trying to kill me, you know. He said all you'd find was a pile of smoldering ashes."

Randor's arms tightened convulsively around his son. That grotesque verminous cretin had come so close this time. "Ow, Dad!" Randor realized that he was squeezing a little too tightly and eased his grip a little.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I just -"

"I know." Adam shuddered and put his arms around his father. "I'm nowhere near your burn, am I?" he asked. Randor shook his head. "I'm okay, Father. He didn't actually touch me this time. Though he can do an awful lot without actually touching you."

"This I know," Randor said wryly.

"That heinous, despicable, no good, rotten - can't we tie him up, put him in a box, tie it with a purple ribbon and ship him back to Evil-Lyn?"

"Tempting, but no."

"I bet she could do really interesting things with him!" Adam said, persuasively. Randor got a vivid image of Evil-Lyn with her hands on a copy of his son, and shuddered. "Dad, are you okay? Did I hit your burn?"

"No, I just got an unpleasant image."

"Oh." Adam was silent for a moment. "I just don't like the thought that he'll be here, in a cell, just waiting to escape and - and -"

"He won't get out, Adam. Man-at-Arms is seeing to that."

Adam sighed. "I know. It just gives me the creeps." His arms relaxed and he rolled onto his back. "Is Man-at-Arms coming back with that drink?" he asked.

At that moment, the door opened and Duncan came in. Randor raised an eyebrow at his friend. He suspected that Duncan had been waiting outside the room until the conversation wasn't quite so emotional. He was carrying a tray that contained two glasses of water, and also two steaming mugs. "Dorgan grabbed me the minute I left the room and made me bring in a nourishing broth for the both of you. He seems to feel that sleeping through meals is bad for your health. Odd fellow, Dorgan." Randor glared at Duncan who returned him a bland look.

"Thanks, Man-at-Arms," Adam said, sitting up. "That smells great!"

"Are you hungry, Adam?" Randor asked.

"Actually, yeah." He took one of the mugs off the tray and started drinking. "I don't suppose there's any bread to go with this?" Duncan smiled, set down the tray and left again. "Where's he going?"

"I think he's going to get you something more to eat."

"Oh, great." Adam seemed more himself suddenly, and Randor wondered if he was putting on a show for Duncan.

"Adam, are you all right?"

The boy shrugged. "Fine, I guess." He sighed. "I mean, this has set me back at least a couple weeks, probably a month in my recuperation, I spent awhile at Snake Mountain, this time unconscious the whole time, which means I have absolutely no idea what they did or didn't do to me." He glanced up. "What about that viewer? Couldn't you see what happened?"

"Unfortunately, you were visible right up to Snake Mountain, and immediately after you left again, but not while you were inside."

"Oh." Adam sighed. "We're going to be holding someone who can look like anyone he wants to in a cell in the palace complex, and we know he wants to kill me and he probably wants to kill you. Oh, and I still don't know what he was after."

"We're not sure yet exactly either. There's a magical artifact under Arleron village, but we still don't know what it does."

"Great. And now Skeletor wants it." Adam sighed. "But I'm going to be fine, Father, really. I don't want to let that twerp win. Or Skeletor, or Evil-Lyn."

"I'm glad to hear that, Adam."

Duncan arrived a moment later with a fully laden tray for Adam, and Randor sat back to enjoy watching his son eat. Man-At-Arms left immediately again and Randor wondered where he was going. A moment later, he returned with another tray which he handed to Randor. This bed was getting a little crowded, but when he made to get up, Adam gave him a wistful look. Randor shrugged, not at all unwilling to stay. He settled a little further away on the bed, and shared his sausage with Cringer.

Adam woke up to the comforting presence of his father on one side and his cat on his feet. And the pleasant awareness that his dreams hadn't involved either death or dismemberment. He stretched, which didn't wake Cringer, but started his purr going. It did wake his father, however. "Good morning, Adam," he said. "How did you sleep?"

Adam had a feeling that he was going to be answering that question rather a lot over the next few weeks. "Fine. No dreams, bad or good." His father looked much better than he had the previous day. "How are you feeling?"

"Almost fit," his father said as he got out of bed and stretched. Adam wished he dared do that, but from the way his legs felt, he didn't trust his ability to stand.

"The key word there is 'almost,'" Dorgan said, walking into the room. "You're not fit yet, your highness. My prescription for both of you is a week's bed rest."

Adam looked up miserably. Bed rest. He was sick and tired of beds. "Bed rest?" his father exclaimed. "But I must get back to work."

"I'm sure that, between them, Marlena and Duncan can make the everyday decisions, Randor." Dorgan raised an eyebrow at him. "You promised that if I kept you going while Adam was gone, that you would rest when I told you to after he was back."

"What do you mean, keep him going?" Adam asked, looking up at his father suspiciously. "What did you have to do to keep him going?"

"Any number of unwise, unhealthy things, that are going to catch up with him if he tries to jump back into his usual schedule too quickly."

His father was giving Dorgan some kind of warning look. He kept throwing meaningful glances at Adam and then raising his eyebrows at the healer, as if trying to tell him something. Adam glared at the both of them. "What's been going on?" The mildly defensive expression on his father's face, and the irritated look on Dorgan's alarmed Adam. "Father?" he asked.

The king shook his head and said, "It's not important, Adam.

The sudden distance that sprang up between his father and him startled Adam into speaking without thinking. "Don't you trust me?"

Randor gazed into the worried eyes of his son, not sure how to respond. When he didn't reply immediately, Adam's face closed down. "Never mind," he muttered, shrugging and looking away.

"No, Adam," Randor said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed Adam's hand. His son tried to pull away, but Randor held on. "Adam, that's not it. It's just - I knew that I had to stay on top of things until you came back. With the imposter free to roam the palace at will, and enter that prison and torture you, the masters spread out all over, and Duncan tied to that wretched machine, I couldn't afford to take the time to rest and recover." Adam looked back up at him, and the worried hurt in his eyes tore at Randor's heart.

"Well, yeah, so?" he asked, looking baffled.

"Dorgan gave me some stimulants, and some pain killers, to keep me on my feet so that I could function."

Comprehension dawned on Adam's face, followed quickly by annoyance. "Did you think I wouldn't understand that?" Adam shook his head. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"I guess I'm not very proud of it. And it's not a solution I would choose to use in a less critical situation."

"So what?" Adam demanded, anger glinting in his blue eyes. "You think I might decide to try it out on a whim?"

Randor blinked, startled by this notion. "No, Adam. That would never have occurred to me. I just - I haven't even mentioned it to your mother."

"And a king can't admit to weakness," Dorgan said wryly. "Or at least this king can't. He wants to be seen as the iron man, and that doesn't work when you're broken." Randor started to glare at the healer tiredly, because he was right, but his attention was arrested by his son's reaction.

Adam sat up straight suddenly and glared at Dorgan. "He is not broken!" the boy declared hostilely. "Don't you say things like that!"

Dorgan took a step back from the strength of Adam's emotion. "I didn't mean it that way, Adam," he said, startled. "I just meant that he was hurt."

"Well, what if someone heard you? Someone who didn't know you? Who doesn't know your habit of saying obnoxious things to be funny!"

The healer took a deep breath and said, "You're right, Adam. I shouldn't have said that."

Adam's eyes flashed. "And don't humor me!" Randor was taken aback by the intensity of Adam's anger. "You're always belittling people! You sucker punch them in the ego when they're already hurt! Don't talk about my father that way!"

"Adam," Randor said, trying to deflect his attention. It worked a little too well. Adam thrust back the covers and stood up, glaring at his father furiously.

"And you! If you're still recovering from having to run yourself ragged, get back in bed!" he yelled, pointing vigorously at the bed. The suddenness of his movement proved to be too much for his rather wobbly balance and he started to topple over backwards, arms reaching out desperately for something to support him.

Randor rushed to catch him, and Adam clutched at his father, When he had his son steady on his feet, an arm around his shoulders, Randor said, "I will if you will." Adam looked up at him pathetically and nodded. Then he looked down at the bed.

"We either need a room with two beds, or a bigger bed."

Dorgan spoke up. "I'll go make some arrangements." He ducked rapidly out of the room.

"In the meantime," Randor said, "Why don't you lie back down, and I'll sit quietly in this chair." Adam reluctantly let himself be persuaded to get back in the bed, and Randor sank down onto the chair with a weary sigh. "We make quite a pair, just now, don't we, son?"

"Yeah," Adam said disgustedly. "All hail the royal family of Eternia."

Randor chuckled. "Hip hip hooray."