Author's note: Please forgive the tardiness of this posting.

Chapter 8

Evil-Lyn took Duncan back to her chamber on a short leash, tied him into the tub and bathed him herself, very thoroughly. When she was done, she left him tied and combed his hair, braiding it into a queue and tying it off neatly. He objected and fumed, but nothing he said persuaded her that he could manage these events for himself. Finally, she let him out of the tub, dressed him again, and took him back to the workshop. Once more attired in shorts and sleeveless shirt, he set to work.

They had barely finished the chassis of the machine, and he could tell that Tri-Klops wondered if he was stalling. "What's taking so long?" Tri-Klops demanded around mid-morning.

"I have to make sure everything's properly calibrated," Duncan said calmly. "Your tools aren't the same as mine, and I'm having a little trouble adjusting for the difference."

He wasn't sure the other tech believed him, but he didn't let on, continuing to build this version of his machine and the same slow pace. He tried to guess from the little he'd been able to see in the Doomseeker's image how far along Manny and Roboto had gotten on the one back at the palace. He'd worked on it for perhaps a day and a half before other matters cropped up, so they probably had a good two days work left on it, even with Roboto keeping at it around the clock.

Not that their time table made much of a difference as far as he was concerned. He wasn't finishing this excavator, and there was little that either Evil-Lyn or Skeletor could do to force him. He dawdled the pieces together

He was thankful that Evil-Lyn didn't call for a long lunch, but she did end the day early as far as Duncan could tell. He glanced aside at the Power Sword as she led him past it, wishing there was some way he could get it back to Adam.

A tug at his neck drew his attention forward again. Reflecting that moral scruples could be more trouble than they were worth, he followed. Randor had decreed that killing was a poor way to change a person's mind, and he agreed with him. But sometimes people needed to be dealt with more permanently.

When they were behind the closed door of her room, she turned and changed his clothes again. He looked down to see that he was now wearing nothing more than a pair of obscenely tight leggings of some kind of silky crimson material, with bracers to match. He glanced up at Evil-Lyn to find her gazing upon him with amusement, now clad in a close fitting gown of the same crimson that hugged every curve of her figure from neck to knee. "I think you look charming, lover," she said, a chuckle in her voice. He crossed his arms resignedly.

"What now?"

"Now?" She waved a hand, bringing back the game table from the night before, still set for the game they had not completed. "Now we finish the game and have a spot of dinner. I, for one, feel the need for some sustenance to keep me going. Tonight will be a long night."

Grimacing at the promise in her voice, he sat down across from her at the table. "It was your move," he said. A steaming mug of tea appeared at his right elbow and a plate of piping hot meat pastries appeared on the left side of the table.

After they'd eaten and played a couple of games, Duncan looked up. She was concentrating on her next move, brow furrowed, when he cleared his throat. "I don't suppose – I wondered –" He didn't like asking her for something, and he was having trouble getting the words out.

"Speak up, lover." She smiled at him and, reaching out, took his left hand which was resting on the table, turned it over in hers and began tracing the lines in his palm. "What do you want?"

"Could you show me Randor?" he asked. "You said he wasn't severely injured, but –"

"But you aren't sure you believe me. I can show you anything your heart desires, Duncan. Are you sure you want to see Randor?"

"Yes."

"This will take a few minutes. I have to concentrate hard on the subject." She pulled the mirror out of the air again and began to peer into it, her eyes going distant. He watched her curiously. Her face, when smoothed of its habitual mocking expression, was quite lovely, indeed. He wondered what her history was. Who was her father, this man who differed so from Skeletor? And where had she grown up? He knew so little about her. They knew a fair amount about most of Skeletor's minions, but Evil-Lyn had always been an enigma, appearing from nowhere as a full-fledged evil sorceress at Keldor's right hand. It behooved him to learn more about his enemy.

She looked up and turned the mirror so that he could see it. Once again, as he looked, the image seemed to grow in his eyes so that he could see it more clearly. Randor stood in the middle of Adam's tower bedroom. Stratos stood by the window, and two of Adam's bodyguards – a pair he recognized as being on the evening shift – waited uneasily by the door. Raon was talking animatedly to Randor, whose face was a mask of fury. He cut off the bodyguard's words with a curt gesture and turned to question Stratos. A moment later, what was wrong with the scene hit home with a vengeance. It was Adam's room and Adam's father was there, Adam's bodyguards were there, but Adam wasn't.

Teela strode in followed closely by Ram-Man and Mekanek. She reported to the king, apparently a negative, and Randor's face turned from fury to desperate worry. Where was Adam?

Evil-Lyn, observing the look on his face, pulled the image away from him. He reached out to catch her wrist, to stop her, but his joints locked up and he sat frozen. She was perceptive enough to recognize the signs that he had seen. He itched to stop her as she peered into the mirror with interest. "That's Adam's bedroom," she murmured after a moment. "But where is young Prince Adam?"

Randor had an easy way of finding out, Duncan pondered, but of course Duncan had hidden the ferret's viewer to keep the king from looking into it at a bad moment and discovering his son turning into He-Man. He'd always expected to be present should anything happen to Adam again.

Evil-Lyn had fallen silent again, gazing intently into the mirror once more. Was she attempting to call up another image? He waited, only his restraints keeping him from drumming his fingers on the table. Finally, she blinked and a slow, pleased smile spread across her face. "How absolutely delightful! What a thoughtful boy."

Dismissing the mirror, she stood up and walked around behind Duncan to release him from his paralysis.

"What did you see?" he demanded, turning to face her. She threw her hands into the air and transformed her clothing into her usual outdoor wear. Pointing her staff at his ankle, she locked the cuff around it again. He stood up, fists clenched at his sides to keep himself from seizing her and shaking till her teeth rattled. "What's going on?"

She flashed a broad smile at him. "You'll see soon enough, Duncan. But I'd better hurry, or this chance will be lost." And with that she was out the door and gone. Duncan jerked on the chain until his ankle was bloody, but he could not budge either the cuff or the links. He sank into the sofa. What was it she'd seen? Where was Adam? What idiotic stunt had that boy pulled now?

Adam walked down the corridor of Snake Mountain, trying to seem as if he belonged there. Orko's spell had clearly worked. He'd gotten past Trap Jaw at the gate with only a slight widening of the eyes. He just hoped he wouldn't run into Tri-Klops while he was here. It could be difficult to explain why there were two of him.

When Evil-Lyn appeared around a corner, he kept his face as expressionless as possible and just kept walking toward her, trying to come across as the taciturn Tri-Klops, hoping desperately that she wouldn't see him for what he was. Maybe Orko was wrong. She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. "Tri-Klops, I have something I need to discuss with you."

"What?" Adam asked, the gravelly voice of the enemy technician sounding odd in his ears.

"It's about Man-At-Arms," she said. Adam's heart quickened, and when she gestured that he precede her through a doorway, he did so. The floor dropped away unexpectedly beneath him and he fell heavily to his hands and knees. Springing back to his feet, he turned to see that there was no longer a visible door in the wall behind him. In fact, he could see no sign of door or window in any wall. He was in a barren black box, with no way out.

"What are you doing, Evil-Lyn?" he demanded, expecting that his voice would come out as Tri-Klops'. When he heard his own voice instead, he looked down at himself in surprise to see that the illusion Orko had created was gone. With a chill, he remembered that the imposter had been trained by Evil-Lyn, which made the black box cell all the more ominous.

"Good evening, Prince Adam," Evil-Lyn's voice sounded around him. "It's a pleasure to have you in my care. In fact, you've no idea just what a gift you've given me."

Adam stared in horror around at the walls of his prison. "Where's Man-At-Arms?" he demanded, but his question met only silence. He walked over to the nearest wall and kicked it. This was just great. In Snake Mountain for ten minutes and he was already captured. How was he going to explain this to his father? Assuming he ever got out of here.

A vague, oppressive sense of claustrophobia caused him to clench his teeth. He was going to get out of here and help Duncan. Somehow.

Duncan stood up nervously when Evil-Lyn returned. The gloating look of triumph on her face gave him no ease. "What have you done?"

"I suppose you could say that I rescued your imprudent little prince from the possibly catastrophic results of his own folly." Duncan's misgivings must have shown on his face, for she laughed merrily. "He's quite safe, my dear man. And will remain so, as long as I obtain certain assurances from you."

"I don't believe you have him," Duncan said, though he feared his tone was not convincing. What had Adam done?

She reached out and pointed to a spot in mid-air with her staff. An image rose up of a small room and Adam sitting cross-legged in the center of it. "He yelled quite a lot at first, but he calmed down after awhile."

Duncan stared in utter horror. It couldn't be true. She was creating this. It was an illusion, not an image of reality. Suddenly, Adam shot to his feet, shaking his fist at the ceiling. "You're as bad as the imposter!" he yelled. "Where's Duncan? What have you done to him?" The boy stared angrily at the ceiling for a moment longer, then thumped back down to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

"How long have you had him?"

"An hour, perhaps ninety minutes. I wanted to make sure there was no pursuit or back up. That little jester from the palace was hanging around outside. I froze him and put him somewhere safe, where nothing will eat him. He'll wake up in a day or so. In the meantime, I have the prince, and no one even knows where he's gone."

"What will Skeletor do –"

"Oh, but Duncan, that's the best part of all," she exclaimed, stretching and allowing her garments to shift back to the close-fitting red dress. "Skeletor doesn't even know I have him. Only you and I know that." She chuckled. "Oh, and the prince himself, of course, though he hardly counts."

Duncan sat down hard. No one, not even Skeletor, knew she had Adam. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That all depends on you, my dear Duncan." She smiled at the alarmed look on his face. "I suspect he's such an innocent that he would be easy to mold, easy to bend to my will. Quite trainable, really."

Duncan looked up at her. "He's sixteen, Evil-Lyn. A child."

"Oh, no, Duncan. He's a young man, with a young man's drive and hormones. I doubt it would be difficult to get him interested, and once I've got his undivided attention –"

Duncan launched himself at her, forgetting the spells, forgetting everything. She skipped nimbly to the side as he landed on the floor.

She knelt beside him, stroking his back and leaning close to his ear. "There is an alternative, lover. A simple alternative that will leave your charming Prince Adam as untouched and virginal as he was when he arrived."

Duncan closed his eyes. What was she going to demand of him? She touched his back and released the paralysis and he got slowly to his feet. "What do you want?" he asked, knowing that, whatever it was, he would give it to her.

She smiled, and he read the same knowledge in her face. "I want you, Duncan."

"You have me," he replied, confused.

"No, Duncan, I have your body and I can play with it as I like. I want you."

He glanced at the image of Adam, who was hunched up in the middle of his prison, clearly having a reaction to the small size of the space. The claustrophobia he'd developed after his imprisonment was obviously affecting him. She raised a hand and Adam's shirt and jacket vanished, to reappear on the floor at his side. Adam jumped up in alarm.

"What are you doing?" Duncan demanded angrily.

She waved her hand again, and metal cuffs appeared on the boy's wrists. "What – what's going on?" he cried, staring at his wrists and then gazing at the ceiling. Another quick gesture and Adam was pushed by some invisible force to the wall in a position that mirrored the pose Trap Jaw and Whiplash had first placed Duncan in on his arrival here. "Let me go!" Adam shouted, panic edging into his voice.

"You know what comes next, Duncan," Evil-Lyn said, walking around behind him and removing his shirt with a gesture. She touched the skin of his back, tracing the shapes he knew were there. "Do you want to see magical glyphs inscribed on your prince's back? I might even send you home. I do have something of a one-track mind when it comes to men."

He whirled, barely resisting the urge to seize her arms. "Evil-Lyn, don't do this," he said desperately. He wasn't sure she was serious, but he couldn't take the chance. He gulped. Her eyes were on the image, and he turned to look at the boy who struggled against the invisible bonds that held him to the wall of his prison.

"He's not badly built for so young a man," Evil-Lyn said contemplatively, "and I'm sure he'll fill out as he gets older."

"What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I want you to give in. To stop resisting me and my little games. I want you to join in."

Duncan blinked. Adam was giving way to panic, and his yells were growing hoarse. "Let him down," Duncan said colorlessly.

"Do you agree?"

"Yes, anything. Let him down."

The cuffs came loose from the wall and vanished off Adam's arms. He scrambled back into his clothing and stood in the center of the room, arms crossed tightly on his chest, panic still lurking in his eyes.

"Now, there's one thing more."

"More?" Duncan demanded, turning his eyes on her.

"Yes, Duncan, more. I doubt that I would have too much trouble capturing him again, so I'm going to offer you something else, but there are conditions."

"What are you talking about, Evil-Lyn?"

"I will let him go. Return him to the palace, see that he's safely found by his father."

Duncan looked back at Adam, who still looked frankly terrified. "What do I have to do?"

"I will bring him to see you." Duncan narrowed his eye suspiciously. What did she have in mind? "You must persuade him that you are staying here of your own free will. That rescue is pointless because you don't want it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." She walked up to him and placed her hands on his chest. "You have time to think about it, lover." He looked down into her eyes, and she lifted one hand from him long enough to dismiss the image of Adam. "I want proof of payment on the first part of the bargain tonight."

He stared at her, arms hanging motionless at his sides. Smiling, she stepped back and, with a gesture, dismissed both their clothes. Then she took up a provocative pose leaning against the bedpost. "Come on, lover. Fulfill your side of the bargain."

One step after another, he walked over to stand in front of her, uncertain what to do. But Adam's fate was in his hands, and he could not fail the boy. No matter what, Evil-Lyn could not get her hands on him in that way, dignity and pride be damned. He knew that believing her, trusting that she would keep this promise was unwise, but he trusted that she would violate Adam if he didn't do as she asked. There was no choice to be made.

He put his hands on her shoulders and stroked down her arms. Smiling slyly, she moved her arms out of the way, and placed his hands on her waist. "Come on, lover," she murmured again, her hands on his hands, guiding them upward till his thumbs were brushing against the bottoms of her breasts. He bent and kissed her. She opened her mouth eagerly under his, but let him guide the kiss. He tried to lose himself in the sensation, to forget himself.

Turning his head aside from her mouth, he kissed down the side of her neck. "This is wonderful, Duncan," she murmured in his ear. "Don't stop." She took his earlobe between her teeth and her hands began stroking his lower back and buttocks. He raised his hands to cup the sides of her breasts and, taking a deep breath, stroked her nipples with the rough skin of his thumbs. She arched into him, letting out a little moan of delight. Her hands tightened on his back and began to move with more urgency. He toyed with the soft skin of her breasts, kissing and biting her neck, then he moved his hands to her back. Bending, he cupped her buttocks in his hands and lifted her into his arms. She squealed at this unexpected turn of events, but he found himself frozen in place, his hands under her, her body pressed against his.

"Duncan, what are you . . . oh." She laughed. "I think I'm going to have to alter that spell slightly so that it doesn't cover sexual contact." She paused. "Sexual contact not meant to hurt. Release."

Duncan lowered her gently onto the bed and knelt over her. "Evil-Lyn, no matter how angry I might get at you, I would never do something like that."

She smiled up at him. "You're most adorable when you're self-righteous." Her fingers pulled at the hair on his legs. Rolling his eyes, he bent over her and kissed her until his heart was racing. His hands were stroking her breasts and belly, and her hands were busy on his back. The internal struggle to give in to sensation gave way abruptly as he thrust into her, causing her to gasp in shocked glee. She moved with him, wrapping her legs around him and holding him close. They orgasmed together and she clung to him, kissing him intensely as their passion climaxed and then plateaued.

He stayed above her for a moment, breathing deeply, then he rolled over and lay flat on the bed. He didn't know what to think or feel, and he didn't want to do either very much. Evil-Lyn lay beside him, panting. Finally, she rose up on her elbows. "Roll over, lover," she said.

"What? Why?"

She rolled so that the entire length of her body was against his and lay one of her legs between his. "Because once isn't enough, lover, and I want you to be free of constraints in this."

Mindful of the bargain, knowing the power she held over him, he rolled onto his stomach. She spent a few moments stroking his back, and for once, her touch felt clinical. He thought she must be trying to decide just how to alter the spell to create the affect she wanted. Then she got up and walked to a cabinet. When she returned, it was with a small bottle and brush. She added a few strokes to the design on his back, activated it with her staff, then put the staff aside.

"All right, lover, now you are free to –" She broke off with a start as he rolled over and pinned her to the bed. "Duncan, I –"

He kissed her fiercely, all the passion of his rage transforming in an instant to ardor. Refusing to think, refusing to consider, he let sensation and lust overwhelm him and made love to her intensely and without reserve.

When the frenzy left him and he came to himself again, he sat up, looking down at her, appalled and horrified by his own actions. How could I have done that? What came over me? She lay breathing deeply for a few moments, coming down from the excitement, then she opened her eyes and gazed at him with approval. He suddenly wanted to get as far away from her as he could. He sat back on his haunches and closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands.

She sat up and got onto her knees and put her hands on either side of his face, pulling up so that he would look at her. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers. She was smiling, a soft expression devoid of mockery or superiority. "Do it again, Duncan," she said quietly, then leaned in for a long kiss which, after a moment, he returned. They fell down onto the bed together, trading pleasure for pleasure.

She fell asleep when they were done, face relaxed and innocent. Without her clothing, her extraordinary manner, her attitude, she looked like anyone. He disentangled himself from her clutching limbs, stood up and went into the bathing chamber. He looked at himself in the mirror, the familiar face, the hair hanging around his eyes, the bites and cherry-marks on his neck, the bite mark on his left shoulder, then he turned abruptly to the privy and threw up. When he had rid himself of dinner, he sat back, breathing slow, deep breaths, trying to regain his control. He hoped he had not awakened Evil-Lyn, for she might find this reaction less persuasive than his earlier ones had been.

He sank himself in her tub and scrubbed his skin until it stung.