114- The Opponents

The thick rain clouds moved on in the night. Silver moonlight caressed the castle and insinuated itself in the ex-prince's room. Its touch gave a magical sheen to his white hair, now dry and flowing on the pillow. His strangely divided face seemed at peace, and in the pale light it had beauty, something he was totally unaware of. His self image had died in the crash. It gave him a kind of innocence, this loss of self awareness. The carefully hidden vulnerability that replaced it and the unconscious elegance of his moves made him beautiful.

But that serene expression was suddenly replaced with a frown. Beads of sweat appeared, gleaming like pearls. The prisoner was dreaming.

That place at the very bottom of castle Doom. The temple. It filled him with fear. It was lit, but somehow it was dark as well. He saw again the place Hagar had showed him : the autel, the statues of the five monsters. He didn't know how to call those things. They vaguely resembled hyenas, but the jaws looked more like a shark's. Theirs forelegs had long fingered, clawed paws, and the rear legs were bird like, with the articulations bent the wrong way, leathery toes ended by razor sharp talons. They were a dark grey and had bat-like wings. Their eyes were bright and glowed in four colors : red, yellow, green and blue. The fifth had black holes where the eyes should have been .

Suddenly Lotor realized with horror why the place had seemed familiar. The disposition, the size, everything looked like a demonic parody of the temple of the lions on Aris. He slowly backed away, wanting to be out of this place.

And then he felt them. The invasion in his mind. The entities wormed their way in his consciousness, and to Lotor it felt as if a foul liquid was flowing in a clear river. He had never thought of his mind as a clear river before. He tried to run away, and the spiritual tendrils slithered in his thoughts like long reaching serpents. They radiated such pure malevolence that he screamed in agony and terror, as something unnameable raped his mind.

***** ***** *****

Lance had been irritated when they had selected this room for the prisoner; it was right next to his. It bothered him to have to play nice with the son of his most hated enemy. While Zarcon held fast to his first position in the book of Lance's least favorite persons, Lotor was not far behind.

When he heard the awful, agonized screaming, he thought for a second, 'yeah, he bit himself. Now his own venom is killing the snake'. But all the same, he got up, took a weapon and ran to Lotor's room, expecting anything from Hagar to a robeast. Now that he had busted in, he saw it was just a nightmare. Well. Lotor did deserve to suffer a little. 'I don't have to wake him, he thought, just admire the show...'

Still, upon observation, this didn't look like an ordinary nightmare; anyone would have awakened by now. And was it his imagination, or was the space around the prince darker then it should be? He saw him as if through a black veil of mist. He could have sworn it moved. It recoiled from him. He took a step toward it and the thing retreated. He ordered the lights on, and in a split second the mist was gone, fast enough to make one think his imagination was playing tricks on him. Lance had learned to trust his instincts, though. Something was there. It was gone now, and Lotor woke with a start, naked terror painted on his face. Even upon seeing Lance he didn't bother to hide his fear. Tears leaked out of his real eye, and he brokenly started to speak in drule. Lance spoke drule fairly well, but the prince was just going too fast with his changed, soft voice. He understood something about keeping them away from him.

"Hello! Aris to Lotor! Slow down or revert to intergalact!"

It was as if Lotor couldn't see or hear him, he was so lost in his shock, and Lance grabbed him to shake him out of it.

"Wake up, dammit!"

He shook him enthusiastically, enjoying it a little. Lotor gradually calmed down. He looked around him with a wild look as if to make sure he was really there. Now seated on his bed, he brought his blankets to his chest like a frightened child.

"That was some nightmare," said Lance.

"I've known fear like that," Lotor began shakily, "only twice in my recent life. I don't think it was a nightmare."

"Anything we should know about?"

"Y..yes. I know it sounds craven," Lotor admitted, "but I don't even think I can talk about it just now."

Coming from the prideful ex-prince, that was quite a statement. He was still shaking and nervous. The pilot could have sworn he was on the verge of tears. It made Lance uneasy, to see that proud, arrogant bastard he fought for so many years being so frightened. After a while Lotor recovered and looked at him.

"Y..You wish to go back to sleep," he stated.

"Unless you want me to actually guard you..."

"I think whatever it is can't stand the light. Sounds childish, no?"

"Yeah, it does. But it's actually refreshing to see you as a frightened kid."

"Hope you enjoyed the show," said the drule sarcastically. "I suppose I should thank you."

"Boy, you're really ill if you are being polite to me! Well, I'll return to my own, sweet dreams."

Lotor sighed. He looked up as Lance went back to his room. The pilot left the light on, for which he was grateful. The ex-prince was dead tired, but dragged himself out of bed, bringing a blanket for he was chilled to the bone, and sat at his drawing table, where he began to draw one of the monsters. It would be easier to show them then to talk of it. On his drawing, he made an ancient drule symbol of warding. He didn't think he was exaggeratedly superstitious, but tracing the sigil made him feel a little better.

Behind him stood a ghost, the spirit of king Alfor, who looked in growing horror at his most terrible fear appearing line by line under Lotor's hand. He thanked whatever sacred spirit might be listening that Lotor drew this warding sigil, for even pictures of those monsters held power. Even better, the ex-prince overlapped the symbol on his drawing.

Lotor shivered just looking at the image. When he was finished, he turned it face down and sat at his window. He hugged himself tightly, waiting for the morning. When it finally came, his cold had gotten worse, and by the time the pink ribbon of light penetrated his room, he had fallen asleep curled up in his chair.