Keldor paced in front of his chamber door. He'd returned to his room after Mira's disastrous attempt to make peace between himself and Randor. 'I warned her it would do no good,' Keldor fumed. 'I told her.'
Keldor glanced over at the low table in the sitting area of their sumptuous suite. Several silver-covered platters with some of Chef Allen's delicacies waited for him along with Lyn's note explaining that she was tired and would be in their bedchamber taking a nap.
As enticing as the food would have looked to Keldor even an hour ago, now the very thought of food was repugnant to him—his stomach was still churning with the tension of his encounter with Randor. Keldor wanted to blast something. 'I could blast something out on the training fields. Maybe not with my magic, but with a training blaster. And I could shadow spar with the blunted training swords. Anything is better than staying here now.' Keldor rolled his shoulders around a few times and groaned at how tense they had become. He turned resolutely to exit the suite. 'A good workout is exactly what I need.'
Lana walked unsteadily into the bathroom, her stomach rolling. She had caught a whiff of some food on a tray passing her in the hall, and suddenly felt incredibly nauseous. She grasped the edges of the sink and took a few deep breaths, swallowing hard as she tried to calm her stomach. Eventually the feeling eased.
Lana looked at herself in the mirror. 'I hadn't realized how much I depended on Grayskull's magic to keep me well.' Splashing water on her face, she tried to ignore the still-queasy feeling in her stomach. 'It has to be all of the stress. Without Grayskull's power to help me calm myself, I'm making myself sick. I won't worry about it a second longer,' Lana promised herself. 'Although I'm not sure how I could keep from worrying about Josiah. The poor baby.' She sighed, her eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears. She wiped at them in surprise. 'Perhaps a short nap will make me feel better.'
Adora slammed the shield into the training rack. She desperately wanted to talk to Hawk about her argument with her father, but he was still in with Duncan, immersed in his training to take over management of the financial aspects of the royal family's income. Something that he knew would be part of his job as Adam's advisor, but a responsibility, Adora remembered with a slight grimace, that still caused her fiancée to turn three shades paler. She didn't blame him. She still couldn't wrap her mind around how unbelievably rich her family was. She pushed that whole line of thought to the side as she picked up a blunted sword. 'I suppose I could use one of Duncan's sparring robots. They are predictable, but it would give me practice in the basic sword strokes.'
Adora was just about to walk to the training ground command hut to enter the codes to activate the robot when she saw Keldor enter the training fields.
"Adora! I didn't mean to interrupt anything," he explained quickly, looking slightly guilty and irritated, as if he expected to be reprimanded for being on the training grounds. "I saw that the guard wasn't scheduled to use the field until later this evening."
"You didn't, Uncle," Adora answered lowering her practice sword. "I was just practicing with the hover targets. I was about to call out one of the sparring robots."
Keldor nodded and walked to the weapons rack. He pulled a sword out and tested its weight. "Well don't let me stop you," he said distractedly. "I came out to shadow spar."
"Why don't we spar against each other, Uncle? I'm sure we both will get a much better workout that way, and it will be a lot more interesting than bots and shadows."
"And have Randor personally throw me into the deepest darkest slave mine for attacking his daughter? He's already angry enough as it is," Keldor snorted. "I don't intend to do anything else today to make it worse."
"Don't worry about Father. I'll handle him. I want to practice and none of the guard will give me a real fight because I'm their princess," Adora finished in disgust. Suddenly Keldor's last remark sank in and she added, "Today? What did you do today to make anything worse between you and Father?"
"Mira dragged me into his office, and insisted that I explain to him all about my childhood and turn to evil," Keldor answered with an angry slash of his sword toward his shadow on the wall nearest him.
"I take it that it didn't go well," Adora ventured dryly.
"No blows were exchanged this time," Keldor answered simply. "So it could have been worse. Still," Keldor turned and looked into Adora's eyes, "Adora, he is falling prey to his hatred of me. He has every reason to hate me, but we both know that hatred will destroy him if he doesn't let it go." Keldor turned back to the wall and slashed again at his shadow. "Even after the way he's seen hatred wreak havoc in my life and all I have touched, he still hangs onto it." Keldor continued to snap his sword around in a coordinated assault against his invisible opponent. "I told Mira it was a bad idea."
"I don't think it was," Adora commented as she moved a few paces to the side of her uncle. She began to practice basic sword strokes beside him, using her shadow to judge the correctness and angle of her swings. "I think Father needed to hear that."
Keldor snorted disbelievingly.
"Oh I'm sure he didn't like it," Adora continued as she increased the pace of each attack. "But he needed to know. Give him time to process all he's learned. In the meantime, I will see what I can do about his hatred."
"I hope you have better luck," muttered Keldor as his sword streaked down toward the ground at an alarming speed only to be turned aside in a second and angled to the right.
"I'm not sure I will," Adora confessed with a sigh.
Keldor lowered his sword at the defeated tone in Adora's voice. "Has something happened?"
"You heard how he addressed She-Ra in front of Mira and Stephen's families. No matter what form I take now, my opinion counts for little."
"That bad?" asked Keldor as he motioned over to the sparring field.
Adora nodded and walked to the rectangular patch of colored earth.
"And it's because you defended me," Keldor stated as he entered the opposing side of the training court.
"It's because I told the truth," Adora corrected Keldor firmly. Then she looked over to her uncle as he moved into the initial stance for traditional broadsword practice. "Thank you for practicing with me," Adora said, as she too stood ready to begin her their match.
Swords glinted in the sunlight and metallic clangs echoed across the empty training field as Adora and Keldor continued to circle one another. Keldor was surprised at how evenly matched they seemed. He knew that her experience as She-Ra and Force Captain would make her formidable competition, but she was a truly gifted warrior. Keldor respected that. He met her attacks with less and less finesse as their match continued, but he noticed with satisfaction that she was growing more quick and unplanned in her movements as well. Neither one was becoming sloppy, but both were tiring.
The clock in the north tower began to chime. "Five already?" wondered Adora as she lowered her sword and strode over to replace it on the weapons rack.
"It's amazing how time slips by when you least want it to," muttered Keldor, placing his blunted sword back in its empty slot and sitting on a bench to catch his breath. Adora tossed Keldor a towel and took one for herself. She began to wipe the perspiration from her brow as she sat on the bench beside her uncle.
"Thank you, Uncle. I haven't had a real workout since Teela reached her six-month mark," Adora said. She began toweling off her hair as Keldor began to wipe down his face.
"You're welcome," he said, his face still within the towel. "I needed the exercise as well."
Once he had finished with his towel Adora took it from him and dropped both of them into a nearby towel bin.
"Maybe we can practice again tomorrow. I really did enjoy it," Adora offered.
Keldor sat down on the bench, an irritated, confused look crossing his face. "May I ask you something, Adora?" At her surprised nod, he continued. "Why are you so..."—he searched for the right word, but could only come up with one--"friendly to me?"
Adora quirked an eyebrow, one side of her mouth tucking up into a smirk. "You want me to be unfriendly?"
"No," Keldor answered immediately, his tone a bit petulant. "I just don't understand how everyone in your family seems to at least distrust me, if not despise me, and yet you don't seem to suffer from either of those emotions."
Adora smiled gently at him. "Uncle Keldor, I have seen Horde officers defect and become some of the best leaders the rebellion could hope for. I know how deep change can go. And I see it in you."
"But how do you do it so easily?" Keldor demanded, stroking his chin. "Adam seems to believe I've changed, but he doesn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me if I were in your shoes!"
Adora reached out and grasped his hand. "Uncle, once I learned that you changed, I made the decision to give you the benefit of the doubt. You have my trust unless you prove yourself unworthy of it. That's just the way I am."
"It seems foolish," Keldor muttered."You're setting yourself up for a betrayal."
Adora shrugged. "Perhaps, but it won't be you who betrays me, will it? Besides, I don't think you are as worried about what I'm setting myself up for, Uncle, as you are uncomfortable accepting my friendliness toward you. I think this is just another manifestation of your guilt."
Keldor shrugged. "You may be right. And I won't be betraying you. You are right on that account."
"Lana. Lana, wake up," urged Duncan.
"I'm already awake," Lana groaned. "I can't sleep."
"That would explain why you're tossing and turning like a boulder going down a hillside." Duncan turned to face his wife. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sure it's the stress of everything that's going on now," Lana said dismissively.
"Teelana, there's more to it than that," pressed Duncan. "When you have been able to rest you've been talking in your sleep. You never talk in your sleep."
"I've been having strange dreams," Lana admitted. She leaned into Duncan's chest. "Meaningless, but disturbing. I'm sure they too are a symptom of the unrest in our lives. And my worry for Josiah."
"I'll take you at your word for now," Duncan said wrapping his arms around his wife. "But if this keeps up you're going to see Ramos."
Josiah's sharp cry woke Teela for the third time that night. A glance at the clock informed her that it was still three hours until dawn. She picked him up and held him tenderly. He stopped crying for a moment, then started again.
"Sh," Teela whispered, trying to sound soothing despite the tears flowing down her own face. "It's okay. Mommy's here." She checked his diaper; he was bone dry. Biting her lip, she tried to get him to eat, but he turned away, wailing some more.
"Oh, Josiah," Teela said desperately, "I don't know what to do. You're so sick, and they can't find anything wrong with you." She pressed her face to his carefully as she sank down onto the small couch next to his cradle.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, her arms tightening involuntarily around Josiah, as a heavy weight settled next to her and strong arms encircled her. Teela leaned into Adam's embrace, sobbing along with her child's cries.
Adam rocked them both, his eyes dry only because he strove to be strong for Teela's sake. The distance that had separated them since Keldor's return seemed to have finally vanished under the overwhelming concerns about their son, and Adam hesitantly opened his mind to her, thinking only of his love for her and their son.
Gradually Josiah's cries grew weaker until he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Teela hiccupped a few times as her own sobs subsided, feeling oddly strengthened by Adam's embrace. She pulled away from him slightly to search his face in the moonlight. "How?" she asked in a whisper. "I felt as if you were talking to me."
Adam pressed his lips together and spoke to her telepathically. 'For some reason, my telepathic abilities have become stronger since Keldor's return. I had to control them, though, and I had them under such a tight hold that I actually forgot about it until now.'
Teela stared at him with an odd half-smile on her face. "I love it," she said softly. "I can feel what you're feeling when you talk to me with it."
Adam grimaced. "That's exactly why I don't like it," he whispered back. He took Josiah from her, worry written in every line on his face. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"
Teela's attention shifted back to Josiah as well. "He wouldn't eat," she said by way of agreement.
Adam laid Josiah back into his cradle and took Teela's hand, tugging her to her feet. "Come on, Captain, let's get some rest," he said.
An arm whapped her in the face, and Marlena sat bolt upright, holding her cheek.
"Randor," she snapped, "if you're going to be wrestling with demons in your sleep, get up."
Randor opened his eyes blearily, but obediently rolled to a sitting position. "I'm sorry, Marlena," he said in an exhausted voice. "I didn't sleep well."
"I hadn't noticed," Marlena said sarcastically. She bit her lip. She knew very well why Randor was so tired, and she wanted to be supportive, but he'd woken her up a half-dozen times during the night. She was nearly as tired as he.
"I kept you up, didn't I?" Randor asked in an apologetic voice, turning to face her. At her nod, he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"Want to talk about it?" Marlena asked in a more gentle voice, settling back to lean against the headboard.
Randor threw his feet off the side of his bed and sat, his head slumped in his hands. "I don't know what to do. I've always been fairly sure of myself before, but now I am becoming so bound to my hatred." Randor sat up straight and turned to face his wife, gritting his teeth. "And the worst part about it is that Keldor was the one to point it out to me. That villain lectured me, and, by the Ancients, Marlena, he was right. I just wish I knew that kind of game he was playing now," Randor finished with a frustrated sigh.
"Maybe he's not playing a game," Marlena suggested gently. "Maybe he has really changed."
"Not you too," Randor groaned.
"Randor, have you not given others the benefit of the doubt before? Why not Keldor? What reason has he given you to suspect his motives since his return?" Marlena questioned.
"I have reason simply on the basis of who he is," Randor muttered angrily.
"Who he was," Marlena corrected.
"Even if that were true, don't you find it odd that Josiah is suddenly deathly ill when Keldor has returned?" Randor asked, as if desperate to find some evidence for his case.
"You saw what the Sword of Truth revealed," Marlena reminded him. "He only wants to help."
There was a long silence. Finally, Randor confessed in a whisper, "I don't think I can forgive him, Marlena. And whether I do or not, he must pay for his crimes. What will that do to my father?"
"Randor, you know how much I love you, dear?" Marlena asked tenderly, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her face against his bare back.
"Of course," Randor replied as he turned to her and returned her tender hug.
Marlena pulled back to look in her husband's eyes. "Then I need you to listen to a little Earth wisdom."
Randor nodded. Marlena spoke of her home world only every so often and of late, hardly at all. Hearing her mention it again caught his interest.
"Randor, what good does it do to hold onto his hatred for Keldor? Will it bring back the dead who died defending our freedom from him?"
"No," Randor answered simply.
"Will it restore all of the property and goods stolen by him throughout his time as Skeletor?" Marlena continued.
Randor shook his head.
"And most of all," Marlena said her eyes bright and her voice tremulous, "will your hatred return one precious moment of Adora's life back from that monster Hordak? He stole our daughter with Keldor's help, but will hating Keldor bring back even one second? "
Randor's eyes grew bright. "No," he whispered.
"You will see to it that justice is done Randor, but your hatred, in the end, only binds you to the one you hate. It steals peace from your heart and occupies your mind, which you must have clear for now. I know it will be hard, but try to forgive. Not for Keldor's sake, but for yours and our family."
"You're right," Randor agreed after a long moment. "I'll try to let go of my hatred, Marlena, but I'm not sure I know how. It seems to overtake my good sense every time I think of Keldor."
Marlena hugged him, then climbed out of bed to get ready for the day. "As long as you keep trying, Randor. That's all that matters."
The morning had come all too quickly. Teela leaned into Adam, and he tightened his arm around her as they both gazed at Josiah, who was settled in Teela's arms. Ramos was setting up tubes, needles, and a bag full of some sort of liquid in preparation for giving Josiah the IV.
The door clicked open behind them, and Duncan entered the room. Adam felt immediate gratitude that his father-in-law was present. Not that he didn't trust Ramos, but...he needed the emotional support right now. The prince nodded at his friend, and Duncan gave Teela a kiss on the cheek.
"Father," rasped Teela. "I-" Teela could not continue and Duncan swept his little girl up into his arms.
"I'm developing some more tests," he offered as he held her close. "We're not giving up, Teela."
Teela nodded. 'But what if we're too late? Good, it you are out there, take me instead. Please leave my baby alive. Please,' she begged mentally as the last monitor was brought online.
Teela obeyed reluctantly as Ramos gestured for her to come closer. "Once I've got 'im hooked up to the IV, you can put 'im in the cradle whenever you're ready," he said, motioning to the baby-sized hospital bed. "You'll have to be really careful when you pick 'im up." He picked up the needle and looked at her. "Are you ready?"
Biting her lip, Teela nodded, leaning into Adam again as he wrapped an arm around her. Ramos deftly inserted the needle into Josiah's leg, and the baby let out a blood-curdling scream.
"I'm sorry, Josiah," Teela said in a broken voice. Tears streamed down her face. "I'm so sorry." She was vaguely aware of Adam's arm tightening around her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Josiah's screwed-up face, however, as his cries ripped through her. "You'll feel better, baby," she promised, thinking of how little he'd eaten in the last two days. "You will."
Once Ramos was finished, Josiah, already weak from his illness, settled down quickly. He hiccupped a few times, then fell to sleep.
"Go and get some rest," Ramos urged the royal couple. "You both look worn down. He needs you too much for you to get sick."
Teela nodded absently as the old healer's gnarled hands gently took Josiah from her and placed him in the cradle. "You'll call us if anything at all changes, right?" she asked in an unsteady voice.
"Of course," Ramos said gently. He nodded to Adam. "Get her to rest."
"I'll do my best," Adam promised in a hoarse voice. He guided Teela out of the room, Duncan close behind them.
"That was awful," Teela said in a horrified voice as they approached the door to their suite. "We caused him so much pain."
Adam squeezed her hand, his son's cries echoing in his mind. "I know," he acknowledged roughly, "but we had no choice."
"Now what do we do?" Teela demanded, whirling around to Duncan once they were inside the suite. "They've conducted so many tests already, and except for his lymph nodes being swollen, they've found nothing."
"We have more tests to run," Duncan assured her as best he could, although it was with a slight frown. "We've only run non-invasive tests and blood tests so far."
"It's going to be painful for him, though, isn't it?" Teela asked, her eyes filling with tears again.
"Yes," Duncan admitted reluctantly.
"And it won't do any good," Teela pointed out. "According to She-Ra and the Sorceress, it's not an illness. These tests are for nothing."
"You don't know that," Duncan argued.
"She's right," Adam countered in a hard, determined voice. Teela's and Duncan's eyes flew to his face, Duncan in surprise, Teela in despair. Adam forced himself to take a deep breath. "Teela, get some rest so you're refreshed when Josiah needs you," he said gently. "My mother will watch over him this morning. I already spoke to her about it."
Teela caught the implication immediately. "Where are you going?" she demanded. She was forced to wait for her answer as Adam abruptly raised his sword.
"By the power of Grayskull!" Once he had transformed, He-Man met her worried, half-angry glare with a look of icy determination.
"I'm going to see Granamyr. He's the only other one I can think of who might have an idea of what's wrong with Josiah."
"What about Good?" Teela asked immediately, surprised at He-Man's tone of finality.
He-Man didn't flinch. "Good's not answering any questions right now," he said bluntly. Ignoring her look of shocked disbelief, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and hugged her. "I promise I won't rest until I find the answer to what's wrong with Josiah," he whispered into her ear. Then he was gone before she or Duncan could utter another word.
"Granamyr!" He-Man called out, his voice echoing in the dragon's vast chambers.
There was a brief silence, then a rumble and a burst of flame from the pit before him. Granamyr came out with an annoyed roar, probably irritated at being disturbed. His eyes widened when he saw the human standing before him.
"He-Man!" the ancient dragon exclaimed. "What a surprise! What brings you here?"
He-Man had worked hard to pull his emotions under control as he had flown up to the Ice Mountains. It was only that fact, coupled with his iron determination, that kept his voice steady as he replied to Granamyr.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Granamyr, but I come on an urgent mission. There's something wrong with Prince Adam's son. I believe-," here he had to take a breath to steady himself, then he continued, "I believe he may be dying."
"I'm so sorry, He-Man," Granamyr murmured, knowing very well that He-Man was Adam. "Is it an illness?"
"We don't know," He-Man replied. "There is no evidence of any illness, and magic has failed to heal him." He spread his hands helplessly. "I have come to you because I have nowhere else to turn. Our medicine and our magic have failed."
"What do you wish me to do?" Granamyr asked in confusion. "If magic cannot help him, then- "
"You are older and wiser than any being on Eternia," He-Man said in a slightly desperate tone. "I had hoped that perhaps you knew of something that could help him. Something we humans are too young to remember."
Granamyr shook his head slowly. "If it is not an illness, He-Man, then it is a part of the child. No magic or science can undo that. Just as we cannot make those born blind see again, if a child is born to die, there is nothing I or anyone else can do."
He-Man's chin fell to his chest as he struggled to retain control of his emotions.
"I'm truly sorry, He-Man," Granamyr offered quietly. "I wish that I could do something to help."
He-Man raised his head, his eyes surprisingly clear. "I know. I apologize again for disturbing you, Granamyr, and thank you for hearing me out."
He-Man flew for well over an hour, his thoughts growing darker by the minute. His son was dying; as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it as certainly as he knew his own name. The more his thoughts tumbled around, the angrier he grew at the injustice of it all.
'A defenseless child,' he thought. "Why?" he asked aloud. "Why are You taking him away from us?" The tears began to fall then, tears that he hadn't allowed himself to shed in front of anyone. He wiped at them angrily, but his emotions were hitting the broiling point. Spotting a small level clearing in the midst of the rocks ahead, he put the wind raider down.
He-Man hefted himself out of the wind raider, feeling as if his bones were hollowed out. But the anger and despair within him propelled him forward until he was standing before a huge boulder three times his size. Desperately needing an outlet of some kind, He-Man pulled back his fist and punched the giant stone with all his might. It exploded into pebbles, most of them falling down around his feet, while some flew into the air and showered him.
He-Man fell to his knees almost immediately and found himself praying aloud, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he desperately beseeched Good to save his child.
"My mother says You are love, and if that is true, then You must be merciful as well. Please heal my son. Make him well. Take away whatever is causing his pain and making him waste away before our very eyes." He-Man's voice broke. "Please don't let him die. Please, I beg of you, do what you want with me, but please spare my son."
Great sobs wracked his body for a few moments, but He-Man had never been one to surrender to his emotions for long. He quieted himself and remained kneeling, listening for Good's response…but there was only silence. That is, until a familiar voice cut through it, speaking from behind him.
"Good's not answering this prayer, is it, He-Man?" Damien's gravelly voice asked.
He-Man was on his feet in a second, his sword drawn before he'd even whirled around to face the demon. Damien was in human form today, his nondescript features looking at He-Man with something akin to innocence.
"Oh, come now, He-Man, we're not going to go through this again, are we?" Damien complained, drawing his lips back from his teeth in something resembling a grin. "I'm not allowed to kill you, you won't kill me…it gets so boring. I really just came here to talk."
He-Man didn't lower his sword, but he began to move smoothly towards the wind raider. "Nothing you say can interest me," he growled at Damien.
"Not even if it concerns your sick son?" Damien returned in challenge.
"What do you know of Josiah's illness?" He-Man demanded angrily, his arms shaking with the desire to attack this evil being. "If you had anything to do with it-"
Damien held up his hands, his eyes suddenly turning a warm brown. "It was not me, He-Man. Marzo is the one who told me your son is ill." He took a step back. "But, if you're not interested in hearing how he can be helped, I'll just leave."
Every instinct within He-Man screamed that this villain could not be trusted, but in spite of that, he found himself calling after Damien as the villain took another step away. "Wait. What do you mean?"
"I told you I can heal," Damien reminded him. "I knew your son would not be well, because of the prophecy."
"What prophecy?" demanded He-Man.
"You'll learn that soon enough," Damien responded dismissively. "The important thing is that I can heal him of his illness, so that he lives a long and happy life."
"And in exchange?" He-Man asked warily, still wondering about this "prophecy."
"You serve me," Damien said, his eyes turning to a yellow-brown in his anticipation.
"Never," He-Man answered without hesitation.
"Hear me out," Damien countered smoothly. "Knowing how much you despise the idea of serving Evil, I've come prepared with a compromise." He smiled again. "Serve me for one week." Sensing He-Man's hesitation, Damien pressed on. "Just one week, He-Man, and I will heal your son and he will be a normal, healthy boy. One week to save his life. It's not too much, is it?"
"Evil never tells the truth," He-Man muttered almost to himself as he stared at Damien. "It wouldn't be just one week."
"If it's not, then it's by your choice," Damien said almost cheerfully.
"How do you know you can heal him?" He-Man asked suspiciously. "No magic has worked."
Damien made a tsking sound. "If I cannot heal him, you are released from your obligation to me."
There was a short silence as He-Man wrestled with himself. 'Think of the damage Hordak forced me to do in just four days. How much damage would I cause serving Evil for even one week?' "No, I will not serve Evil," he finally said, but his voice lacked its earlier conviction. 'One week for Josiah's life…'
Damien stepped back, pleased with his progress. He hadn't expected He-Man to consider the idea so seriously this quickly. "I will give you some time to contemplate the choices, He-Man. Watch your son die slowly, day by day, or serve me for one week so that he can live. It is your choice."
With that, he was gone, leaving He-Man alone with Josiah's cries echoing in his mind.