Chapter 5
Adam knocked on his father's office door. He knew that missives had been flying back and forth all day from Snake Mountain, but he hadn't heard any details of the negotiation. "Come in," his father's voice said through the door.
He entered to find his father staring at a letter that had been closed with an embossed purple seal. "What is that?" he asked.
"A letter for the Sorceress from Skeletor," Randor said, picking it up and turning it over a couple of times. "I don't quite dare read it, but I wonder what he's said."
Adam wondered, too. But this was the very opening he was looking for. "I could deliver it," he suggested eagerly.
"I'm not sure it should be delivered," Randor said dubiously. "This negotiation should be between me and Skeletor. She shouldn't have to be involved." He shook his head. "But I have no right to prevent her from taking whatever actions she chooses. But Adam, you don't need to deliver it. I can send Orko again, or –"
"I need to go to Grayskull anyway," Adam said urgently. "I'm close, I know I am, but I need to consult a couple of books I'm sure she has."
His father pursed his lips. "I don't want you taking unnecessary risks, Adam."
"This isn't unnecessary!" Adam exclaimed. "I need to consult the library at Grayskull to complete the research you yourself set me to." His father's eyebrows went up at this impassioned declaration. "Send an entire troop of guards with me if you must, but I need to go to Grayskull." And there was another reason, but Adam didn't plan on sharing that with his father.
Randor steepled his fingers, glanced down at the missive, and then back up at his son. "I'll take you up on that. An entire troop of guards and three of your personal bodyguards."
"Not Raon," Adam protested. Understanding had still not quelled the anger he felt toward his friend.
"He is the Captain of the Heir's Guard, Adam. And I've spoken with him. He understands his duty better now."
Adam pursed his lips, but his father had agreed, so he decided he'd be better off not to argue overmuch with his stipulations.
Thus he set out within the hour in a windraider with Raon and Pirschan, flown by one of the palace guard. Two more wind raiders flanked him, and Quick-Wing flew overhead. Stratos flew point guard and Buzz-Off rear, and guards on wind raiders surrounded him. His father wasn't taking any chances this time. Mercifully, the trip to Castle Grayskull was short and the path largely uninhabited, so Adam didn't have to feel like a parade for long.
When they landed, Adam walked to the drawbridge which opened to him. Only you, Adam, came the voice in his head. He turned to Raon, Pirschan and Quick-Wing who had formed up behind him. "I have to go into the castle alone, guys."
Raon looked troubled. "Your father said you might say that."
Adam raised his eyebrows. "And what did he tell you to do if I did?"
"To wait outside." Adam smiled tightly at his bodyguard and nodded. Then he turned and crossed the drawbridge into the castle.
He followed the halls to the Sorceress' audience chamber where he found her thoughtfully gazing into the window on the world that existed above her throne. It showed a view of Snake Mountain, and Adam wondered why she was looking at that place. She turned when he cleared his throat and soared down to meet him.
"Where is your sword?" she demanded immediately, her tone urgent.
He glanced up at the image in her window, and grimaced. "My bodyguards knocked it out of my hands and Clawful took it."
"So it, too, is at Snake Mountain," she said, turning her gaze back to the window. Adam nodded. "And your father's attempt to retrieve Man-At-Arms failed."
"Yeah," Adam said dejectedly. "And right now he's trying negotiation. That's part of why I'm here. Apparently Skeletor sent you a letter." He pulled the folded parchment out of his jacket and held it out to her. She took it with reluctance and broke the seal. Scanning it quickly, she pursed her lips. "It appears that your father's erroneous conclusion has reached Snake Mountain."
"What?" Adam asked. "What do you mean?"
"Skeletor wishes me to hand over Castle Grayskull for Man-At-Arms safe return. He appears to be under the misapprehension that Duncan and I have a relationship."
"But – don't you?" Adam asked, stupefied. "You guys are perfect for each other!"
"The Sorceress of Grayskull does not have outside entanglements, Adam," she replied calmly. "My life has been given over to Grayskull and to the protection of the power of the Elders, and I have neither the time nor the energy to devote elsewhere. Duncan is a good man, but I am bound."
"Oh," said Adam. This was an unexpected response, though he didn't know why. She'd always had a sense of distance, a sense of abstract purpose that intimidated him slightly. "What are we going to do?"
"We must retrieve both the sword and Man-At-Arms from Snake Mountain. I do not yet know how, but time will tell."
Adam had been hoping for a step-by-step plan with easy directions, but he hadn't really expected it. Not really. "I also need to consult the library. I'm on the trail of the Hand of Umalar, and I have a couple of references I still need to check. Do you mind?"
"No, Adam, of course not." She gestured him in the direction of the library. "I will give the situation more thought while you continue your research.
Duncan had no clear way of telling time. He'd seen neither sun nor moons since he'd been captured, but he thought it was about mid-evening when Evil-Lyn was called away. Now he was alone in her audience chamber, naked except for the leash, which was still around his neck. He'd tried once to remove it, but slipping his fingers between his skin and the collar caused a brief spasm of that same pain that Evil-Lyn was using to control him.
He sat down on the bed she'd replaced the couch with. It was twice as wide, but still had no covers. At the moment he was bound by the ankle to the wall, and bound by the leash to this bed. Both bindings allowed him adequate movement, but he didn't much care. While being chained to a wall was very frustrating, being tied to a bed by however long a cord was humiliating.
After his bath, Evil-Lyn had tied him down, arms and legs both, to feed him his lunch. It was a messy meal with a tangy sauce that she kept dribbling on him deliberately, then cleaning up with her tongue. She'd toyed with him all afternoon in various ways, then finally allowed him a nap. She had only just wakened him when Skeletor's voice sounded in the room. He'd looked around in alarm for the skull-faced man, but Evil-Lyn had shaken her head.
"He's not here, Duncan. He's just sending for me. I'll be back soon."
Duncan devoutly hoped not.
Adam burst into his father's office excitedly. He'd just gotten back to the palace and had taken a short detour to his room to ransack it for a book he remembered Orko reading to him when he was small. Holding it like the prize it was, he'd marched to his father's office.
Randor looked up wearily, and Adam could see that his injury was paining him. "Father! Have you been taking your pain killers?"
He nodded. "Yes, Adam. What have you found out? You look like you're bursting with news."
"I know what the Hand of Umalar does!" he exclaimed. "You'll never believe it, but I had the reference in my bedroom all the time."
"What?" Randor asked, leaning forward. Adam placed the book in front of him and waited for the response. His father looked at the book for a moment, turned it in his hands, then looked up. "This is a book of fairy tales, Adam. Is this a joke?"
"No, Father." Adam hooked one of the chairs that always faced his father's desk up close so he could sit down directly across from him. "It occurred to me last night that many of the authors who referenced the Hand of Umalar spoke of it as an item of out of legend."
"Yes," Randor said, looking dubiously at the book.
"I checked through all of the books last night, and they all speak of a specific text, the Ondromigon, a book of full of evil magical knowledge, but many of them also say that it was destroyed long ago by the Elders."
His father nodded. "So it was. I've heard of it."
"Well, apparently the Hand of Umalar was described in great detail in the Ondromigon, so many contemporary books just refer the reader to the descriptions there. Later books often seem to lament that the descriptions were lost. But I finally found something that made me wonder. The author of one of the books from Dovenar said that there was another description, in an old story, that might refer to the Hand of Umalar, but he wasn't certain. It wasn't a complete copy of the book, so I couldn't find the specific story he was referring to. The long and the short of it is, the story in that book called "The Invidious Arm of Orga" is actually a relatively accurate recounting of an event that took place long ago in Eternia, concerning the Hand of Umalar."
"You're certain."
"Certain enough to know that it scares me to death. I hated that story when I was little."
"I don't believe I've ever read it."
Adam shrugged. "It's page 412." His father flipped to that page and started reading.
Duncan had just nodded off again when the door to the room crashed open, revealing Evil-Lyn flanked by Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops. Alarmed, he jumped to his feet. Evil-Lyn pointed her staff at him and the energy flowed around him again, clothing him. Her eyes were dark with fury, and the grins on the men's faces told him that he was in very deep trouble indeed. The energy then pulled at him, dragging him out of the room as the trio backed out of the way. Evil-Lyn spoke the word that activated the third glyph on his back and he fell screaming to the floor. While he writhed in indescribable pain, the two goons bound his arms securely behind him in some kind of metal contraption.
When he was restrained, Evil-Lyn walked up and grabbed his head by the hair. "You've made me look the fool, Duncan. I don't like that." He wasn't sure what she meant, but she turned away and the others grabbed his arms and dragged him to his feet. They shoved him ahead of them through the halls, aiming him for walls and posts. Without his arms to help him keep his balance, he had limited success in avoiding the obstacles. Evil-Lyn just walked on ahead, ignoring him.
When they arrived at the throne room, Trap Jaw kicked the back of his knees, sending him sprawling.
"So, Man-At-Arms, you have been playing with us," Skeletor said in icy tones. Duncan struggled up to try to stand, but when Trap Jaw activated his arm cannon and pointed it at his head, he subsided into a kneeling position.
"I don't know what you mean," he said, trying to get his wits about him. What was going on? What had happened? Confusion and misery to the enemy and all that, but what had changed so drastically?
"You don't? Well, then look! Tri-Klops!"
The engineer gave a command to one of his shiny little drones and it showed a scene from the palace at Eternos. They were going to have to find some way to keep those wretched things out, Duncan thought in frustration. The view was his workshop, where Man-E-Robot and Roboto were working hard to finish the construction of a very familiar-looking object.
"Tri-Klops tells me that you did not design that contraption," one hand shot out from under Skeletor's cloak and pointed in the direction of the workshop where Ovarn's excavator sat. "Evil-Lyn's dim-witted apprentice Ovarn did."
"Yes. I told him that yesterday," Duncan said, bewildered.
"But you neglected to tell him that you were building one of your own, a better design that would withstand the rigors of the task ahead more successfully." Duncan began to see the source of their fury. It was ridiculous to assume that he would volunteer such information, but evidently that didn't matter to the lord of Snake Mountain.
"Why would I tell you that?" he asked reasonably, though he knew Skeletor was not a reasonable man. "You asked me to help rebuild Ovarn's machine, and I did what you requested."
Skeletor stood and leveled his skull headed staff at him. Duncan braced himself for a blow, not sure whether or not he would survive it, but the lord of Snake Mountain relaxed his aim and tilted his head. "You have a point, Man-At-Arms." Duncan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Perhaps he would live a few hours longer. "Very well. I will not punish you yet." Duncan heard a dissatisfied grumble from Tri-Klops and knew that he would have more trouble from that quarter. "But you must begin again and build me the machine that you designed. Evil-Lyn and Tri-Klops will be watching, so don't try to fool me again."
Duncan just stared up at the lord of Snake Mountain, not certain what to say. Evil-Lyn murmured something and the pain surged through him. He hunched, managing not to fall twisting on the floor at Skeletor's feet.
The pain stopped, and he found that Skeletor was now directly in front of him. He grabbed Duncan's hair and pulled his head up so that he was looking straight into those empty sockets. Adam was right, it was creepy.
"So, Man-At-Arms, what is your answer? I don't like waiting."
"All right, I'll build you the machine," Duncan said, options being what they were. Randor wouldn't thank him for getting himself killed.
"That's what I like to see, enthusiasm." He released Duncan's head and turned to Evil-Lyn. "Do you still want him?" he asked.
"Of course," the witch murmured. "I'm making great progress with him."
"The hell she is!" Duncan exclaimed.
Skeletor looked down at his furious face, then turned an amused look on Evil-Lyn. "He does not seem quite so convinced."
"Don't worry, Skeletor," she said, giving Duncan a hard look. "He's only playing hard to get."
The gathered minions laughed at this and Duncan flinched with humiliation. "Then take him, but be certain he is fit to work in the morning."
Evil-Lyn snapped her fingers, and he felt the tug of the leash on his neck once more. "Come along, lover," she said. He struggled to his feet amid jeers and leering catcalls. Skeletor had turned around and was ascending to his throne again. Duncan turned to follow Evil-Lyn out, stumbling over Tri-Klops' outstretched foot, but keeping his feet. This was going to be just ducky.
They returned to her audience chamber in silence, Duncan wondering just what she had planned. He suspected that Skeletor had threatened her, and she would be looking for payback.
She led him over to the bed and said, "Lie down, there's a good boy." He stood, staring at her for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Sourly, he lay down on the bed on his back. She gestured and the cuffs on each corner shackled him down firmly while the clothes vanished. Again, she set aside her headdress and undressed herself slowly and sensually. He didn't dare take his eyes off her, fearful that she'd do something unexpected.
"So, Duncan," she said in a low, malevolent voice, climbing onto the bed to kneel across him. "You need a lesson in manners."
He blinked, uncertain where this could possibly be going. She held out a hand flat and spoke some unintelligible words and a vial containing some kind of viscous amber liquid appeared. She smiled at him and opened it, pouring the oil onto her hands. She began to stroke his chest slowly, rubbing the oil into his flesh where it left the skin sensitized to the slightest touch. She bent and kissed his cheek and his ears and began to nibble on the skin on his neck, sucking and teasing at the skin with her teeth and lips. Every brush of her breasts against the skin on his chest made him twitch as the sensation raced straight to his groin.
When he had reached the point of near explosion, she sat back and watched him, a sly smile on her face, not touching, not doing anything, just watching his expression. As he realized that she was indeed stopping, his eyes widened, for the sensation in his groin was nearing pain. Her smile broadened, and she said, "Ask for it, lover."
"What?" he choked out.
"Ask for it. You know you want it, you know you need it. So ask for it." He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists and looked at the ceiling. "There's no need to play the strong man, Duncan. We both know you want it."
He ignored her, concentrating on the steps for building a sky sled. She tapped his knee to draw his attention back to her, but he focused carefully on each procedure. Slowly, gradually, the tension eased on its own, and he let out a sigh of relief. The skin on his chest still tingled, but the crisis had passed.
Opening his eyes, he found Evil-Lyn looking down on him, unaccountably, still smiling. She held the bottle of oil and poured some more of in into her hands. When she started rubbing it into his legs, paying special attention to the insides of his thighs, he growled in protest. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.
She didn't respond in words, just smiled knowingly and kept massaging the skin of his legs till they were as enflamed with sensation as his chest was. The inevitable physical reaction arose again, and she sat back, again. He stared at her, willing her to stop this torture.
"I can stop this, you know," she said casually, echoing his thoughts. "All you have to do is ask for it, dear Duncan."
Sky sleds – no, that wasn't going to work this time. He began reciting the multiplication tables in his head as far out as he could take them. It took longer, but he managed to calm down again.
"You're going to be a challenge, I can tell."
Duncan glared at her, refusing to rise to her bait, at least verbally. He had less control in other areas. She stood up and stretched luxuriously, then walked around to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair. He shook his head, trying to get her hands away from him, but he had nowhere to go. This was getting really old, really fast.
"Come now, Duncan, how hard is it to say?" she asked, stroking his cheek. Then she stood again and with a snap of her fingers, loosened the chains. "Get up," she ordered, tugging at the leash. Slowly, because his groin ached, he stood. His skin was still tingling as every slight movement sent air shifting across it.
"What is that stuff?" he asked.
"Oh, just a lovely little magical oil I designed. It only affects men."
"Charming. How long does it take to wear off?"
"Wear off?" she asked archly. He raised his eyebrows. She shook her head with a low chuckle. "It has to be dismissed."
Duncan shuddered. He had to get out of here before she killed him.
Adam's father finished reading and looked up at him. "The Hand of Umalar is a person?" he said, aghast.
Adam nodded. "Umalar was a demon who was worshipped as a god in the northern plains. The Hand of Umalar was his chief priestess, and he instilled a huge part of his powers into her."
"It doesn't say that in the story."
"Once I found the connection to Orga, I located a couple of other references in the Sorceress' library. Orga is her name, you see." He put three more books on his father's desk. "I marked all the right places."
Randor looked up at him, one eyebrow rising slightly. "Oh?"
"Now, most of the references just say it's extremely powerful and requires a sacrifice." Adam flipped open one of the books. "There are only two sources I've found that talk about the kind of sacrifice, and according to the Sorceress, Skeletor almost certainly has at least one of them."
"So he knows what he has to do."
Adam shook his head. "No, he thinks he knows. According to the source Stratos and Mother found, it requires the blood of two hundred innocents to awaken her – or it, since that book refers to her as an object. That's not strictly true. She will awaken the moment the prison is opened. The blood is only incidental to the deaths." Adam swallowed. This made him feel slightly ill. "She requires the souls to rejuvenate her. Or," Adam leaned close to the book, "'if she can drain the soul of a living Champion,' whatever that means, 'she will come to full strength in an instant and will reign for a thousand years of blood and torment.'"
"A living champion?" his father repeated. "That's not good. I begin to see why Skeletor might want her."
Adam looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Adam, there is a living champion. He-Man."
Adam blinked. "How do you recognize a champion, Father? I mean, are you sure He-Man fits the definition?"
"Most assuredly. He was foretold." Adam's jaw dropped, and his father went on, oblivious to Adam's personal astonishment. "When the Elders vanished I heard a voice speaking to me – I've since realized that it was the Sorceress. She said 'A hero will emerge to protect Eternia.' And when we needed him, He-Man was there."
Feeling more than slightly stunned, Adam stared at his father. "Oh." He shook his head. "But Skeletor wouldn't be thrilled to be ruled over by this priestess. I'm not sure he knows that part. It's kind of hard to find."
His father looked down at the books in front of him, and up at Adam. "I'm very impressed, Adam. What did the Sorceress think of your conclusion?"
"Well, I didn't have the fairy tale book to show her, but she agreed that it was a logical chain of deductions. When I ran across a reference to Orga, I remembered the story Orko used to read me, and everything just fit."
"All right. What do we need to do?"
"Well, the first thing we need to do is not dig her up. The Elders buried her for a reason."
Randor shook his head. "That's fine by me. But how do we convince Skeletor?"
Adam shrugged. "The second thing we need to do is work out how to get Duncan back."
"Were you able to find out what Skeletor wanted of the Sorceress?"
Adam nodded. "He wants her to turn over Castle Grayskull in return for him."
"I see." Randor looked very serious. "Obviously that's out of the question. My efforts have been fruitless so far. Is she responding to the offer?"
"No."
"Probably wisest for her not to engage him. I'll renew my attempts tomorrow."
Adam shook his head in frustration. "But Father, surely we should give up negotiation and try to get him back by force!"
"I'm not ready for that, Adam. I've got people working on a plan, but Duncan will have to hold on a little longer."
Adam stared at his father in shock. He couldn't believe his ears. If only he had his sword, this wouldn't be a problem. "Will you keep me posted?" Adam asked dispiritedly.
"Of course, Adam."
As he left his father's office, an idea came to Adam for a rescue plan of his own. It could work . . . It would work! He rushed immediately to Orko's room to see if he would help.