Chapter 7

Duncan awoke to the sweet smell of lemon permeating the air. He opened his eyes and saw Evil-Lyn looking down at him. "Time to wake up, lover. Tri-Klops will be expecting us in five minutes. I brewed some tea for you."

He sat up and turned to look at her. "Why?" He didn't know how long he'd screamed that last time she'd hit him with the spell, but his throat was aching abominably.

"Why do you think, dear?" She picked up the mug and handed it to him. Glaring sourly at her, he drank it down. Honey and lemon combined to soothe his raspy throat. As he drank, she got up and began assuming her garb again. When he was done, she picked up his leash. "Come along."

Obedience training indeed, he thought as he followed her out of her room. What else was he going to do, though? It seemed pointless to goad her into rendering him unconscious again. Where was Randor? He couldn't desire Adam to come, however, even if the sword was here. Adam as Adam was too vulnerable, too easily caught.

Tri-Klops was waiting impatiently when they arrived, glaring at Duncan, as if he blamed all the ills of his little world on him. Duncan ignored him and got back to work, slowly piecing together a machine he hoped would never be used.

Duncan could tell that Evil-Lyn called it a night long before Tri-Klops was ready for her to, but the minion didn't argue with her this time. He just glared and stomped out of the room. Evil-Lyn picked up Duncan's leash and raised an eyebrow. Breathing deeply, he walked up beside her and accompanied her to her rooms. It was a difference, but a small one. Perhaps if she thought he was responding to her 'training,' she would be less domineering.

When they entered her rooms, she stretched and let go of the leash. As she rose to full extension, her clothing changed and she was suddenly wearing the filmy, floaty thing she'd had on this morning. She aimed her staff at him and he found himself swathed in a heavy robe of deep crimson brocade edged in black. He looked down at himself and raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, it suits you admirably," she murmured. "Not at all appropriate for a laboratory or workshop, but for a quiet evening at home it will do nicely."

"A quiet evening at home?" he asked, frowning discontentedly. "I generally just kick off my boots and have a quiet dinner with Teela if we're not eating with the court. We discuss our days, I read my correspondence."

"Do you miss her?" Evil-Lyn asked unexpectedly, eyes dark and unfathomable.

Duncan had been doing his best not to think about his daughter because he missed her dreadfully. He couldn't imagine what she was going through at this moment, and he just hoped Randor would keep her out of trouble. "Of course, I do."

She sighed, and he was reminded of her comment about her own father earlier in the day. "I could bring her here, if it would make things easier for you."

"NO!" The shout was louder and more vehement than he had intended, and he found himself frozen in the midst of a step forward towards her.

Evil-Lyn took a startled step back and stared at him. After a moment, she tilted her head. "You've gotten yourself frozen again, haven't you?" His eyes must have spoken eloquently what he could not say, for she shook her head and walked around behind him. Reaching in through holes in his garment that he hadn't even known were there, she released the spell and he relaxed. "I wouldn't harm her, Duncan, she's a child. I just thought you would be happier if she were –"

"Nothing would make me less happy than having my daughter anywhere near Skeletor," he said with feeling. A moment later he wondered if this declaration had been wise. What if she decided to make him unhappy? Silence gives nothing away to the enemy, but silence was becoming impossible.

"All right. I won't bring her here. All you had to do was say no."

"You'll have to forgive me for not believing that, Evil-Lyn. I don't find you a particularly trustworthy soul."

She shrugged. "I'm completely trustworthy. You just have to remember that I'm selfish and greedy and will nearly always act in my own self-interest. Your best bet, dear Duncan, is to see that your interests and mine always coincide." Turning away, she left him standing near the doorway to her room, wearing this ridiculously opulent garb. "I'll be out in a moment, pet," she said, stepping into the bathing chamber. He was alone in her room. The image of Teela helpless at the non-existent mercy of Skeletor gave him the cold sweats. He sank onto a sofa and buried his face in his hands. Whoever said children were hostages to fortune was not wrong.

Evil-Lyn emerged from the bathing chamber and paused. He didn't look up, he was trying to still the trembling that had come over his body.

"Duncan, are you all right?" He didn't respond, and she sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. He pulled away, glaring at her. "You're trembling," she said, sounding alarmed. "What's wrong?" He shook his head, striving for control over himself. This was ridiculous. Teela wasn't here and she wouldn't be coming, Randor would see to it. "Are you worried about your daughter? I'm sure she's fine." Duncan could not stop his tremors, and they were growing more pronounced. Evil-Lyn stood up and dragged a blanket off her bed to throw across his shoulders. "It's not cold, Duncan. You're shivering."

"Leave me alone." But he took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. Perhaps this was some kind of delayed shock.

"I don't think so." She pressed a mug of some hot liquid into his hands, more tea, and knelt in front of him. "Don't worry so, Duncan. Nothing will happen to Teela."

He tried to ignore her, drinking the tea and taking deep, calming breaths.

She looked pensive for a moment then reached up and pulled something shimmery out of thin air. After a long time of peering into the little object, she turned it to face him. "See she's fine. She and the little prince." Duncan blinked, refocusing his eyes on the tiny mirror Evil-Lyn held in her hand. As he gazed into it, the image seemed to grow larger, and he could see Adam and Teela sitting in her room, playing cards. Neither of them seemed to be paying much attention to the game, and he could see what looked like the heel of an Andrenid foot outside her window. A moment later, he saw Stratos fly up past the window. He was right, Randor was taking strong precautions to keep them both from acting foolishly.

Then he looked up into Evil-Lyn's face. "How do I know this is true, and not just something you conjured up?"

She glared up at him. "I'm trying to do you a favor, Duncan! I've had this little device since I was living at the palace as Lady Asala."

"Why? Why are you trying to do me a favor, Evil-Lyn? You're tormenting me, torturing me, what is the point?"

"I don't like to see you this upset."

"Oh, I see. I'm no fun when I'm upset."

"You're over-analyzing, Duncan." She stood up, dismissing the little mirror as she did so. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at him for a moment. "You're not going to be able to sleep any time soon, are you?"

"I doubt it."

She sighed and walked across the room, coming back with a tray containing a steaming teapot and warm muffins.

He looked up at her in utter bafflement. "You are peculiar, do you know that?"

"I try not to be too predictable," she said, smiling. Waving a hand, she called a table into being between them. It was a game table, he saw, wrinkling his eyebrows, set for a game of chess. She placed the tray to the side and sat down in a chair that had appeared behind her. "White or black?"

"What?"

"I think your daughter and the prince have the right idea. Playing a game is a good way to distract oneself from unpleasant thoughts. So, white or black?"

He could tell that she wasn't going to let up on him until he played, so he gave in. "Black."

The first game was swift, and he lost badly. She set the board up again, and said, "I expected better of you, Duncan. You're an excellent strategist in the field."

They played again, and the adrenalin slowly ebbed out of his system. He won the second game, but midway through the third, he yawned hugely. "I think I'm going to go face first on the table," he said, looking across the board at her.

"Well, then, you're no challenge. We'll continue this another time." With that she stood, dismissed the board and the extra chair and pulled him to his feet. "Bed time."

"Bed time?" he asked suspiciously.

"I don't like my men comatose, Duncan, you're safe from me tonight." She drew him into bed and curled up beside him. He wanted to move further away, but he fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the soft surface.

Adam was determined. He was going to find a way to escape from his overprotective nannies today. He did understand his father's reasoning, sort of, but this was the fourth day Duncan had been a prisoner at Snake Mountain. When were they going to do something more than send letters to Skeletor demanding his return?

At his father's request, he spent the morning in the library, looking for ways to defeat Orga. Unfortunately, she was a figure out of myth, a tale for children, so there wasn't much of a serious nature to be found about her. He would keep looking, naturally, but the fact was, he needed older texts than could be found in the palace library. Grayskull was a better bet, but he couldn't read the oldest books there.

A little red figure flitted into his office. "Are you sure about this, Adam?" Orko quavered nervously.

"Absolutely," Adam said. "Something has to be done."

"Your father is doing something, I'm sure of it."

"Not enough," Adam snapped. "Are we ready?"

"Just a minute." Orko began to wave his arms, and he threw a handful of snipped up feathers in the air. They landed all over Adam and disintegrated into dust. "Okay, now you're invisible to sight, but noise and odor and stuff are still there. It won't last long, so you'll have to hurry."

"Come on," Adam said. "If nothing else, we have to get my sword."

Orko nodded unhappily. He opened the door. "See you later, Orko," Adam called for his guards' benefit, and then he slipped out the door as silently as he could. Felinar and Nalineph were on duty at the moment, so he crept by Nalineph, not wanting to attract Felinar's Qadian nose and ears. Adam snuck down the corridor and out into the palace grounds. Duncan had a spare skysled out behind the lab, in case of emergency, and it wasn't likely anyone would notice it was gone, especially not late in the night. He just hoped his father was already in bed, or he was likely to be found missing sooner than he wanted.

Duncan awoke to the sensation of a warm body cuddled close against his side and a head resting on his chest. Had Teela had another nightmare about Adam being tortured? It didn't feel quite right, she usually curled into a ball up against his back. He was worried. If this continued, he was going to have to make her go see that counselor that Dorgan recommended. Ovarn had a lot to answer for . . .

As he thought the imposter's name, the realization struck him that he wasn't at home. Opening his eyes gingerly, he looked down to see the closely cropped white hair of Evil-Lyn resting on his chest. Her face was turned to the side, and she was still asleep. His arms were around her, and one of her arms was flung across his abdomen. A bent knee rested between his legs.

He was alarmed by just how natural this intertwining felt. Perhaps he had been too much alone these last few years if cuddling up to Evil-Lyn felt good. He started to try to pull away, but even in her sleep she held on to him. Subsiding, for he didn't really want her to wake up, he lay there reflecting on this situation.

It was clear that Skeletor had more than one agenda in mind, and he wondered if the lord of Snake Mountain really hoped to keep him here in the long term. He wondered what was going on at the palace, what Randor was doing. What if he were more badly hurt that Evil-Lyn had indicated? The image of Randor lying in the infirmary, wracked with wound fever, or in a coma, maddened Duncan. He clenched his teeth in helpless fury. Not knowing how Randor was, what had actually happened, was unbelievably frustrating. The last time he hadn't know where Randor was, his friend had been captured by Skeletor.

Adam would be distraught if his father was seriously wounded, and it would stake his foot to the floor in Randor's place. Duncan wanted to be there by his side. Adam wasn't ready to rule on his own yet.

If Randor were dead, though – his mind shied away from that dreadful thought, but he forced his feelings aside to consider it. If Randor were dead, Adam would be crippled with grief, and it would keep him wrapped up in government for weeks to come.

But if Randor were dead, Skeletor would surely have gloated by now. Evil-Lyn, too. Unless they wanted him to be docile, waiting for rescue. As if he could save himself. Though he hadn't actually tried yet to leave Snake Mountain. Perhaps she was lying. Perhaps she was counting on the efficacy of the other two spells to persuade him that the third one would work.

The more he thought about this, the more he wondered if he hadn't been a fool from the start to believe her. He reached to the side and grabbed a pillow. Gently, he disengaged her grip, trying not to waken her in the process. Then he slid his chest out from under her head, replacing it with the pillow. Finally, he lifted her leg slightly to allow himself to slip free, and then he stood up. He was still wearing the garments she'd dressed him in the night before, thank the Elders, because attempting to escape while naked did not strike him as feasible.

He opened the door and peered out. No movement disturbed the silence of the hall outside. He slipped through the door and shut it quietly behind him, then tread softly down to the corner. All was quiet, and he snuck from corner to corner in the fortress, meeting no one.

As he peaked around one corner, he saw Panthor sleeping. Cats were notoriously light sleepers, but he had to keep going or give up. Tiptoeing past the enormous feline was tricky, but he managed it, only relaxing when he was several corridors away.

Finally, he found his way to the ground floor and made his way along the halls to the surface exit. There he heard movement, and, greatly daring, he leaned around to assess the situation. There was one guard, just inside the building. Merman. Duncan smiled with genuine pleasure. He owed that particular villain for several past incidents. This could be fun.

Creeping up behind the scaly reprobate, Duncan slammed him against the wall that was at his side. Seizing his head, he thumped it into the wall until the wiry fish-man stopped struggling. Then he turned to the open path out. He was at the exit to Snake Mountain. He walked right up to the threshold and there his feet stopped. He willed himself to walk forward, but he could not bring himself to take the next step. He stood, every muscle in his body tense, poised at the exit to the stronghold, unable to move even an inch toward freedom.

"I wondered how long it would take you to attempt this," a voice drawled behind him. He whirled to see Skeletor standing about ten feet off, watching him. "Evil-Lyn has many failings, but her skill in magic is not among them." The lord of Snake Mountain approached Duncan. "I suppose she forgot to chain you up, last night. I shall have to chide her for that later."

Duncan clenched his fists at his side. Attacking Skeletor would gain him nothing but new injuries. If he could not step across the threshold, he could accomplish nothing.

Skeletor walked around behind him, walking across the invisible barrier that had halted Duncan as if it wasn't there. "Come, Man-At-Arms," he said, giving him a light blast from his staff which sent him stumbling away from the doorway. "I imagine your keeper will be looking for you shortly."

As if she'd been listening for her cue, pain surged suddenly through him, sending him to the floor. While he writhed in agony, he could hear Skeletor's cacophonous laughter echoing through the halls. Evil-Lyn arrived a few moments later.

"Skeletor!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with dismay.

"Good morning, Evil-Lyn," he greeted her. Duncan could hear them speaking even though his body was still wracked with pain. "Don't you think this is the image to send Randor? His trusty right hand man twisting on the floor in agonizing pain?" No! Duncan thought desperately, but he could not speak. "His offers are growing most intriguing." Offers?

"Are you seriously considering any of them?" Evil-Lyn asked. What was Randor playing at? He couldn't give any concessions to Skeletor, no matter what.

"Afraid of losing your toy? My dear Evil-Lyn, I would trade you to them if they were to offer me Grayskull. But they won't, so you needn't worry. As long as he continues to behave, you can keep your plaything." There was a pause, and Duncan wondered what they were doing. He wasn't blacking out. How he wished he could command his senses to leave him. "His moans are becoming annoying. Do allow him to desist."

The pain ceased abruptly and Duncan lay limply on the floor between them, burning with humiliation. He felt like a damp towel, unable to move even though the floor was rough and sharp edges dug into him.

"It doesn't look like he'll be much good for work today."

"There are ways to reenergize him," Evil-Lyn said.

"See to it, then. And carry on with his training. These little setbacks are to be expected, after all. He's a strong man. It will take time to bring him to heel."

"Yes, Skeletor."

"However, if he gets away from you again, Evil-Lyn, I know that Beastman has a cage in the menagerie that would suit him fine. And if he's killed Merman, I will be very put out."

With that, the lord of Snake Mountain stalked off, his cloak brushing across Duncan as he passed. Some semblance of muscular control was returning to Duncan, but before he could do more than turn his head, Evil-Lyn went on one knee next to him and twined her fingers in the hair at the base of his skull. "If you really wanted to try this, Duncan darling," she murmured in a vituperative tone. "I could have brought you here myself." The gentle way her fingers were caressing his scalp and the back of his neck was at odds with the venom in her voice.

Irritated, he shifted sideways and sat up, glaring at her. "I have no intention of staying here, Evil-Lyn. One way or another I will escape."

"No, you won't. And Randor is doing nothing but sitting in his palace sending letters to Skeletor, making ludicrous offers that we know he would never follow through on. I think he's trying to extend your life." She leaned forward, caught his hands and drew him to his feet as she stood up. Stepping close, she traced the line of his clenched jaw with her finger. "Little does he know that Skeletor won't kill you, and won't trade you for anything short of Castle Grayskull. And we both know that's not in Randor's power to give." Her finger strayed from his jaw to his lower lip and he turned his face away from her. She began running her fingers through his hair. "And it appears that your sweetheart, the Sorceress of Grayskull, has abandoned you. She hasn't responded to any of Skeletor's requests."

"She's not my sweetheart," Duncan growled irritably. He was going to have a talk with Randor later about jumping to conclusions.

"Oh good. I don't like rivals."

His gaze snapped back to hers, and he saw that her face bore none of the mocking he saw there so frequently. She was serious. "Rival for what? That doesn't even make sense!"

Her eyes snapped violet fire. "You are mine, Duncan. No one is going to stand in the way of that."

"You have no claim on me, woman!" he declared angrily.

"Oh, but I do." She snapped her fingers and the leash sprang into existence again. "And you will acknowledge it, sooner or later."

Adam set his sky sled down just outside the patrols from Snake Mountain. "You should go back to the palace, Orko," he said.

Orko shook his head, though he was visibly shaking. "I'd better wait for you."

Adam considered this. "If I don't come back in four hours, you go back to the palace and tell them what I've done."

"You want me to tell the king that I helped you sneak into Snake Mountain?" Orko exclaimed. "I –"

"He'll be mad at me, Orko, not you," Adam said persuasively. "And if I'm not back by then, I'll be in trouble."

He knew he'd chosen his words poorly when Orko stiffened and took on an almost authoritative stance. "You shouldn't do this," the little Trollan said firmly. "It's not safe!"

"Nothing's safe," Adam countered. "I'm going, Orko, and that's final, with or without your help."

"You can't go into Snake Mountain looking like yourself, Adam. You'd be handing yourself to Skeletor on a platter."

Adam glared at him. "I will if you don't help me."

Orko twisted the hem of his rope unhappily. "No, no, I'll help," he said. He began to cast a spell, and Adam held still. He remembered the potted plant incident vividly, but he wasn't going to do anything to shake Orko's confidence. Not with all that was at stake right now. His whole body seemed to be on fire for several seconds, and then he felt a cool breeze rush past. He looked down at himself and saw unfamiliar legs with a knee that was higher than his own. He bent his leg and the knee bent at the right angle. Turning his gaze forward, he realized that he was looking out through chest of the illusion that shrouded him.

"It worked!" Adam exclaimed, and he jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. It came from about six inches above the top of his head, and it sounded like Tri-Klops.

"It worked," Orko said, hovering nervously nearby. He didn't sound nearly as pleased as Adam did. He was looking up above Adam's head towards the face of the illusion. "It didn't change you at all, but now you have an illusion of Tri-Klops cloaking you. You can walk right into Snake Mountain and no one will know it's you. Evil-Lyn might be able to tell, so you'd better avoid her."

Adam nodded. He set out to walk the final three miles to Snake Mountain, leaving Orko behind to guard the skysled.

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