Jennifer Thomas's Prince Regan
Chapter 11
As
the small metallic bird sped through the dark, vast emptiness, flickers of
light whizzing past, Alexandra gazed through the canopy windows in perpetual
awe. Strange, crystalline buttons and switches flashed on the wooden dashboard,
labeled with foreign letters. And hovering before her was a small, translucent
sphere of swirling stars and galaxies that vanished at her touch. Rain sat
beside her silently, listening to and feeling the strange hum and rumble of the
engines, as well as sensing the awkwardness of the compressed, artificial air.
It had been built by their Ancient ancestors, they knew, from whose godlike
knowledge their own technology, though primitive in comparison, stemmed.
Within
the ship time seemed strangely passing. And after a short while, though they
could not tell how short, whether minutes or centuries, a red fiery ball
dominated the window view and the translucent map produced a small, solid
sphere and a smaller sphere orbiting the larger.
“What
happened?” asked Rain. “I feel different, like we’re moving.”
“I
think,” said Alexandra, “that we’ve arrived.”
“I’ve
never wished to see more than I do now,” said Rain. “Sights no Eternian has seen, of things we can only dream of. Someone
with working eyes should have come, not me! But Alexandra, could you be my
eyes? Tell me everything you see?”
“I
will, if you tell me all you feel and hear.”
She
smiled. “Alright.”
“There
is one planet here; it is small and yellow. The sun is like a big ball of fire.
Now we’re getting closer to it, and the planet is getting much bigger. It must
be Hive. Oh, we’re moving fast!”
“I
can feel it in my stomach . . . are we falling!?”
“All
I see is the planet. We’re passing through a kind of yellow veil. It’s hazy; I
can’t see much . . . wait! It’s clearing up . . . I see mountains, yellow
mountains! The land is spreading before us. The ship is leveling off. I think
we’re going to land somewhere.”
“Are
there rivers, lakes, oceans, cities?”
“No,
nothing,” she muttered as the ship rattled, “only mountains and rocky valleys,
canyons and craters . . . so strange and wondrous! A whole world passing below,
as if it were a playground of anthills, and we were
gods.”
Like
the bird from which it was shaped, the Talon Fighter swooped down, skimmed over
the land, and gradually descended, using its metallic talons to grip a low
cluster of boulders before shutting off its roaring engines. Then the blue canopy
slowly opened.
Alexandra
surveyed her new, alien surroundings, the gold horizon turning to a bright
yellow where sat a red circle, as she clutched the burning side of the ship
with her gloved hand, climbing out. “To think how vast the universe is, and the
number of worlds in it . . . makes conquering Eternia
seem foolish, doesn’t it?”
“I
don’t think I like this place,” said Rain, cocking her head back. “The air does
not speak to me.”
“Yes,”
Alexandra agreed, her boots meeting the yellow gravel. “It is a little thin. We
must breathe deeper.”
“On
my father’s world, there’s nothing but air. This is a world of earth. I can’t
even fly here.”
“Strange
. . .,” Alexandra murmured, checking her sole, “the ground is sticky.”
As
Rain exited the craft, the canopy slowly closed. “We’d better find someone or
something quick. We’ll be exhausted soon. Do you see anything?”
“No,”
Alexandra replied, “only desert.”
“At
least it’s cold. Let’s go.”
The
two started to walk, breathing heavily and tearing their feet from the ground
with each step.
“I
can’t imagine anything living here,” said Alexandra. “It’s too barren.”
“With
all the population of the beople, shouldn’t we have
found something by now? Or is this the right planet?”
“It
must be. The ship brought us here.”
“Wait,”
said Rain. “I feel something . . . beneath us . . .”
Suddenly
the ground burst open, and out came two green creatures the size of small
houses, having lank bodies and numerous, spindly legs. Their arms were folded
in half where jagged rows of teeth-like points met, and their heads were flat
and saucer shaped with enormous, bulbous eyes black like obsidian, and mouths
like hooking pincers.
Alexandra
screamed, stumbling back in terror.
“What
is it?” Rain cried.
“Insects!
Large insects!”
Examining
its prey, its pincers snapping, one creature lunged at Alexandra. All she could
do is hide her face with her hands. But to her surprise, a large shield formed
out of her armor, stopping the tendril from snapping her in half. She then ran
towards it with renewed confidence, swinging at the creature’s leg, and as she
did so, a sword molded itself from her fingers, chopping its thin front leg
like a branch. It collapsed on its face then, and thrusting her newly made
blade into its soft, bulbous eye, the creature squirmed and died. Seeing this,
the other disappeared beneath the ground as quickly as it had come.
“I-I
don’t know what came over me,” said Alexandra, panting. “This armor, it makes
me feel invincible!”
“Are
they gone?” asked Rain.
“Yes,
I killed one. The other left.”
“I
hope it wasn’t one of the beople,” said Rain.
“No,
beople look somewhat human. But where are they?”
“Wait
. . .” The white-haired beauty placed her ear to the ground.
“What
is it? What do you hear?”
“I
think there’s a reason this planet’s called Hive. And where do you find bees?”
“Are
you saying this whole planet is one giant bee hive?”
“I
don’t know, but I hear something . . . a low humming.”
“I
don’t hear any-”
All
of a sudden there was a deafening buzz, and from afar two humanoid beings with
deep yellow and brown striped bodies and blurred wings flew towards them.
Landing before the two, Alexandra could see their antennas and jade, bulbous
eyes, their small indented nostrils and tiny fanged mouths, and in their crab
like hands, silver spears like fish hooks.
“Beople!” Alexandra exclaimed.
Then,
as the beople’s antennas twitched, a voice they could
not hear echoed loudly in their minds; <<Why have you come here!? What do
you want!?>>
Rain
covered her ears to block it out. “They are speaking . . . telepathically!”
“I
am Princess Alexandra of Eternos!” she cried. “We
mean you no harm!”
<<We
detect war in your thoughts! Intruders! Let us take them to the queen!>>
One
of the beople grabbed Alexandra with its three-toed
talons as the other took hold of Rain, and together the four ascended into the
yellow sky.
“What’s
happening!?” cried Rain.
“We’re
heading towards a canyon . . .”
Rain
felt her stomach thrust into her chest.
“Now
we’re falling,” Alexandra continued, “into the canyon! There’s no bottom, just
walls on every side. Wait! There is a tunnel, an underground tunnel made of
hexagons. We’re going through . . . My God, it’s huge! Castle Grayskull could pass through here . . .”
“There’s
a sweet smell-”
“I
see more tunnels . . . so many more . . . everywhere! There’s no up or down!”
“I
think I am going to be sick!”
“My
eyes . . . my eyes cannot believe . . . overwhelming . . . I could never have
dreamed the size . . .”
“Alexandra!”
Rain cried. “What is it? What do you see?”
“.
. . a light up ahead . . .”
“I
hear humming all around.”
“.
. . entering a sphere. It’s so huge . . . a
thousand-thousand cities could fit in here. And the walls have windows. Millions. Now we’re flying to the center . . . walls are too
far to see . . . there is a column of sunlight, must be from an opening . . .”
“It’s
warm.”
“. . . and a green tower, NO! It’s a . . . a sunflower!”
“Ah!
I can smell it! The air’s full of pollen.”
“It
must be the biggest sunflower in the universe!”
Dropping
the two on the yellow flower petal, the beople landed
before a raised dais surrounded by hundreds of snail-like shells. There
Alexandra saw another of the beople sitting on a
chair of wax, and by her shape could tell this one was female.
Folding
his wings so that they vanished behind his back, one of the guards stepped
forward, mentally addressing the queen; <<Your Highness, we’ve found these
two, hideous aliens prowling about on the surface. They’ve already slain one
mantis. What should we do with them?>>
<<How
strange,>> the queen replied, <<no wings,
small eyes, whole bushels of follicles growing from atop their heads . .
.>>
“What’s
going on?” said Rain, shaking off the intense feeling of vertigo cursing
through her body as she wobbled to her feet.
“I
don’t know,” Alexandra moaned, still rolling on her stomach where she’d been
dropped. “She must be the queen. They must be talking about us. We must show
respect.”
<<Your
Majesty, they have no antennae. They communicate from the same orifice they use
to ingest food.>>
<<I
have accessed their knowledge. I will speak to them.>>
“I am Queen Belana of Hive,” she said aloud, her
voice fluctuating from high to low. “Who are you?”
“I
am Princess Alexandra of Eternos,” she replied,
dusting the thick layer of pollen from her clothes as she tread
across the flower to bow.
“And
I am Rain of Eternos and
“Be
careful, you’ll step on my children!” Belana
bellowed.
“Oh!”
said Rain, stepping back away from the mound of brown, snail-like shells. “I
didn’t notice them. Accept my humblest apology, your Majesty.”
“Your
apologies mean little to me, outsider. What are you doing here?”
“How
is it that you speak our language?” Alexandra asked.
“Beople learn quickly,” the queen answered. “We know our
work the minute we’re born. And you have a very simple way of communicating,
easy to mimic.”
“You
have great mental powers, your Highness.”
“It
befits my duty. How else can one address a trillion citizens?”
“Then
if you have such powers,” said Rain, “how can you not know our purpose, that it
is good?”
“The
concept of deceit was unimaginable to us before recently,” Belana
explained. “Beople do what is good for the whole; we
do not lie. But we recently learned the meaning of deceit when we were deceived
by outsiders such as yourselves. Hence, I have not
developed the power to read deceit in you. I can learn nothing you wish to
hide.”
“Be
assured we hide nothing, your Majesty,” said Alexandra. “The truth is that
we’ve come seeking help. Our capitol is under attack by an army of orcs, and my father, the king of Eternia,
lacks the numbers to defend it. If you would be so magnanimous as to lend some
of your beople to join our fight, you might save our
kingdom and thousands of lives.”
“I
do not know your world nor your people,” answered Belana. “But you have trespassed on our world and hindered
productivity, and the punishment for hindering productivity is death. Guards,
use them as fertilizer.”
“Say
something, Rain!” Alexandra cried, as the humanoid bee clamped her wrist in his
claw.
“Wait!”
cried Rain. “You don’t understand! The orcs, they’re
. . . they’re savages! If they win, our whole world will be in chaos, thousands
of years of progress will be lost! It will be a Dark Age once again!”
“I
don’t think they care,” Alexandra murmured.
“What
of Buzz Off? He visited our world! Don’t you know
him?”
“Yes,”
the queen replied, “I know Buzz Off, a fool who wasted his existence exploring
the universe when he could have been working.”
“But
he was good friends with our king!” Rain protested, “and
on our world a brave warrior who fought by Adam, son of Randor!”
“Wait,”
said the guard, releasing her. “Did you say Adam, son of Randor?”
“Yes.”
“Brother
of Queen Adora, daughter of Randor?”
“Yes!”
The
guard turned to Belana as Alexandra looked on in
wonder. <<Your Highness, I am Sting, great-great-great grand cousin of
Buzz Off. My lineage was shamed by his abandonment. Allow me to bring honor
back to my lineage.>>
<<How
would you do this?>> the queen asked.
<<By
proving Buzz Off a productive and valued member of our species.>>
<<You
may proceed.>>
<<Queen
Adora helped us fight off the Horde led by Mosquitor. With her aid, many of us were saved and the war
was shortened, allowing for increased productivity. She is of the same lineage
as Adam, king of Eternia. If Adam had not known Buzz
Off, she may not have helped us, and productivity would have been lessened.
Hence, Buzz Off aided productivity.>>
<<Very
well,>> Belana
replied. <<Though his method was unorthodox and unpredictable, let the
record show Buzz Off was productive, and that there is no dishonor in your
lineage.>>
<<I
thank you, your Highness. But let me also advise not using these two Eternians as fertilizer, for in returning them to their
home planet unharmed and in aiding in their war, we may enlist their aid in one
of our own wars ensuring future productivity.>>
“Very
well,” said the queen aloud. “Send a small group of warriors to their planet.”
Hearing
this, Alexandra gasped. “We are so grateful, your
Majesty! But . . . since we did aid you once, could you not send more than a
small group?”
“Are
one hundred thousand warriors not enough?”
“Oh
no!” the Eternian princess replied, smiling. “Such a
small group is plenty.”
“Good.
Now I must go into labor. Sting, offer them something as a token of our
alliance.”
“Yes,
my Queen.” And Sting scooped up a clawful of pollen,
stuffing it into his mouth. And after chewing for a while, he spit out a long
strand of golden goop, placing it in Alexandra’s palm.
“Um,”
she nervously intoned. “Wh-What is this?”
“Honey,”
said Rain. “I’d recognize the smell anywhere.”
“Ingest,” said Sting. And out of respect, they did so.
Chapter 12
The
iron mouthed pirate readied another missile in his mechanical arm as he watched
the burning homes and towers collapse into heaping rubble atop the screaming,
fleeing people of Eternos below. The floating galley
veered left then to a bridge still intact, and laughing maniacally, Trap Jaw
let loose another missile, and only concrete pieces of the bridge remained
scattered across the street.
Atop
the rim of the outer wall, King Adam, Queen Mari’na,
General Hoof, Camilla, and a man-at-arms gaped down at the carnage and the
feasting of the orcs, Prince Regan on his dark mare
in their midst.
“I
told you, Father!” Regan cried with an ecstatic gleam on his half-bloodied
face, raising the bloody head of Mekaneck with one
arm and his bloodied sword in the other, “the orcs
are dangerous and need to be destroyed! Perhaps if you’d listened to me, you
could have saved your people!”
“You
are responsible for this,” Adam replied wearily, anger and despair cast on his
wrinkled brow. “But you’ve proven your point. Go back to the Dark Side where
you belong.”
“No!
Not until I get what I’ve come for.”
“And
what is that?”
“What
is owed to me, my birthright, the crown!”
“You
are not worthy to wear the crown,” said Adam, “nor shall you ever be. No
kingdom born of war lives in peace.”
“Values
I do not hold, dear Father. War is good. War is for the strong. Only the weak
want peace. Now you have two options, open the gates and let me in, or I shall
break it down and kill everyone in Eternos!”
Suddenly,
Mari’na surged forward, nearly tumbling over the
guard rail, shouting; “Regan! Oh my dear son, Regan, listen to me, your mother.
Don’t you feel remorse for what you’ve done? Look around you . . . at the grief
you’ve caused and are still . . . These were sons and daughters! Think of their
mothers seeing them lying there slain . . . never to return home . . .” And she
broke down into sobs.
“No,
Mother, I told you I do not have such petty feelings. Remorse is for the weak!
They stood in my way and I dealt with them, as I will deal with any man who
stands before what is mine, whether it be a brother or
my father. Do not weep. You ought to be proud of your strong son.” He glanced
at the dead soldiers beneath his horse’s hooves. “They would have done the same
to me if they’d been stronger. But if you must blame someone, blame the king
who cast me out!”
“Remember
when you were a little boy . . .,” she shouted, her tears falling from the high
city wall.
Adam
clutched her by the arms and pulled her away. “There’s no turning back for him,
my love. He is not the man you knew. Our son is dead.”
“No!”
she cried, thrashing in his arms. “He is my little boy! He is my . . .” She
fell on her knees then, her gray hair shrouding her face, murmuring; “. . . was
my little boy.”
He
offered his hand. “Come, Mari’na, we must make plans
lest more mothers lose their children.”
***
“We
haven’t the power to beat them!” Hyperion the man-at-arms cried, slamming his
fist on the table across from which sat the king and queen. “The orcs are too many and their hide is too strong!”
Camilla
approached the table, a bandage wrapped tightly round her arm. “We amazons lack
the muscle of men and our armor is our skin, and yet we hunt in the Dead Zones
and bring back dinosaurs. What we lack in strength and endurance we make up for
with speed and cunning.”
“Camilla
is right,” said Hoof, “and I have some ideas. When on our planet we fought a
race of giants who prided themselves on their seemingly impenetrable suits of
armor, we built metal pikes that with the use of a hammer, stabbed through to
their flesh.”
“And
when hunting dinosaurs,” added Camilla, “we use two weights linked by a rope
that when properly hurled, tangles their legs and brings them down, so we can
approach and kill them without injury to ourselves. I believe the same tactic
could be used on the orcs. They’re big and clumsy
enough.”
“Noble
plots,” Hyperion replied. “But we simply haven’t the man power. They still
outnumber us ten to one!”
“Well
we must act!” Camilla protested. “Their ship is bombarding the city. Soon,
they’ll break through the gates and there will be no defending the citizens.”
“Fighting
is suicide,” the man-at-arms asserted.
“Better
death than surrender.”
“Can
we wait no longer for Rain and Alexandra?” Adam cut in.
“I
don’t believe so, your Highness,” said Hoof. “We’ve waited too long already and
knowing the beople, I do not think we’ll see the
captain or the princess again.”
The
king sighed. “Alright. Hyperion, gather all the craftsman you can find and prepare the new weapons.”
“Yes,
my Lord.”
“Camilla,
you will be captain till Rain returns. Work on some strategies with Hoof and be
ready when the weapons are made.”
“Yes,
Great Father.”
The
gray behemoth groaned. “Truly this is Eternia’s
darkest hour.”
“If
only He-Man was still with us,” said Hyperion. “If the legends are true, where
is he now?”
***
The
sound of a wooden cane tapping a hard marble floor echoed in the dim, lamp lit
“Hall of Heroes”. Shadows of the past enveloped him, of countless, fierce
creatures contorted in the most bizarre shapes and awesome sizes, still as
though frozen in time. Against the walls were items strange but to him who was
old enough to remember: a pair of red feather wings, an iron glove, a golden helmet orbited by a red ring, a great helm with its
chains dangling, and the crimson, horned helmet worn once by a giant tiger. And
the old man touched these sacred things, feeling more real to him than the
battle that waged on outside. “Where have you gone, my old friends?” he
murmured.
“I
thought I’d find you here,” Mari’na’s voice echoed.
“I could sense it.”
The
aged king scratched his long gray beard. “We can’t win,” he sighed.
“I
know,” she said, gliding toward him in her solemn gray robe, the candle in her
palm illuminating her ghostly, grief-stricken face.
“No,”
he replied. “War, greed, evil. It never stops. It will
continue long after I’m gone.”
“Did
you think you could end it? Destroy evil forever?”
“I
could lift mountains, change the course of rivers . . . but destroying evil for
good, that is where I failed.”
“No
man or god can do such a thing,” she whispered. “You did all one man can hope.
That’s what matters.”
He
turned to her. “In this light, you look just like my mother. She comforted me
at times like these.”
“Adam
. . . I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened, please know that.”
“I
know,” he said. “But now I must set things right.”
“How?”
He
turned to the center of the room where a beautiful, silver broad sword crafted
from a single piece of steel glowed, embedded in a wooden fixture within a
glass case. Even from a distance the sword radiated, lifting the hairs on his
arms, calling for him to touch it, hold it, wield it.
The temptation became irresistible as he moved closer. And as if it were alive,
sensing his approach, it hummed and pulsed even more, more than he’d ever
known, as if its thirst for blood had grown to unimaginable extremes all these
decades, enough for the glass around it to shiver and begin to melt. “Do you
know how many battles I’ve won?” he asked, placing his fingers against the warm
glass.
“No,”
she said.
“I
have no idea,” he replied. “That’s how many. But I do know I’ve never lost.
I’ve been proud of that for sixty years. But now it seems somehow wrong . . .
to have tempted Fate, again and again, to have cheated her of her prize. A true
warrior must yield to humility. Who am I to live, while others die?”
“No!”
she gasped. “You can’t! You’re too old!”
“You
heard what they said. They need me. They need He-Man.”
“But
you’ll be killed! I can feel it! And you know how I am with my premonitions!”
“What
does that matter now? I still will die. My heart has only so many
beats .
. . and I cannot sit idly by, wasting these precious few beats that I have
left, when I can be doing something to help others.”
“Others?
You’re always thinking of others! What about yourself? Don’t you ever care
about yourself?”
“No.”
“Than what about me? Don’t you care about me? You can’t leave me here by
myself. I need you.”
He
kissed her, just as a rumbling sounded in the distance and the room shuttered,
small debris raining down on them. “If Alexandra returns, give her my love. She
must be made queen no matter what happens. She must continue the royal
bloodline, not Regan.”
“I
will make sure of it.”
He
dropped his cane and lifted the case, and clasping the sword handle, raised the
sword above his head shouting; “By the power of Grayskull!”
Mari’na fell back, shielding her eyes with her sleeve
as suddenly a branch of lightning licked the tip of the sword, trickling down
its smooth metal shaft to entangle his small frame. The whole room and all
around her exploded white with brilliance, and all she could see was the
silhouette of the meager, stooping man standing upright and filling out in form
to that of a muscle-bound youth. Golden fire gushed from that new body then and
time seemed to slow as her hairs stood upright and a wave of energy crashed
against her bosom throwing her to the floor. Raw power surged through her veins,
exhilarating her awareness, stopping short her breath, lighting the floating
dust around her like stars before vaporizing them, and singing the soft palm of
her outstretched hand as the other pressed against her breast to keep her heart
from bursting. At last, He-Man held the sword on both ends crying; “I HAVE THE
POWER!” and all was calm once more.
“By the Ancients!” Mari’na exclaimed,
floundering to her feet, “you’re young again!”
He
tore the old robe from his torso revealing his massive chest and broad
shoulders, perfect in every way as if he’d been sculpted as a god. “The power
of Grayskull must have restored me to the prime of my
life. Now I can defeat that tyrant and save Eternia!”
“If
you’re going, take me with you. Please, there’s nothing left for me here. My
children are gone, and now my husband is leaving me.”
“But
you’re still old, and the battlefield is dangerous.”
“Life
means nothing to me without my loved ones. Please . . .”
“Alright,” he replied. “Grab your old sword and keep behind me.”
Chapter 13
On
wings of steel, men-at-arms flew over the burning, smoke billowing buildings of
Eternos to meet the long, floating galley. Two types
of vessels littered the blood red sky, both with screaming thrusters and heads
of birds: the wind raider, a green boat with orange wings, and the much more
numerous and smaller sky-sled. More agile than the wind raider but with less
armor, the blue sky-sled had space enough only for one man to stand.
Swarming
round the galley now like a pack of wolves hounding a hump-backed slotu, the wind raiders and sky-sleds unleashed a barrage
of fire, punching holes along the galley’s wooden hull. Canons blared in
retaliation at Trap Jaw’s command, but could not smite the small speedy
vessels, and the searing iron balls merely arched downwards to devastate more
of the ruined city. Even the metal mouthed first mate’s missile-launching arm
proved useless.
Cruising
in his wind raider through gray columns of rising smoke, Hyperion ordered his
men to drag the galley safely away from the city. With that, each wind raider
let loose from under its belly an anchor fastened to a rope, smashing through
the pirate ship’s side like a harpoon gun in a whale. Then they turned towards
the barren, rusty plain where the foot battle waged, ship in tow, their
thrusters so powerful, Trap Jaw fell on his butt as his men threw their arms up
in panic. “Don’t just stand there!” he cried, latching on to a railing with his
hook-hand; “Cut us loose!” But his crew was too disoriented, and the next thing
he knew, the mast collapsed with its sail ablaze from the gunfire of a sky sled
zooming past.
Half
consumed in flames now, the magic that made the galley weightless dwindled, and
with its tail aimed upwards, it made its final descent into the ground killing
dozens of orcs below. Men-at-arms in combat and
citizens in hiding rejoiced at the sight, as wind raiders and sky-sleds soared
overhead to circle the wreckage.
***
Leaving
a trail of tree-stump-like prints as he marched was the mighty Hoof, his fists
feeling heavier with every broken orc’s face and orc’s tooth. Crouched on his armored shoulders was the amazon queen, Camilla, her body a canvas of green, red, and
brown from the blood and the dirt. And Hoof surveyed his terrible surroundings,
mentally torn by the question of whom now to help.
The
nude, green, warrior women hurled their bolo-mats at the orcs
ankles with remarkable accuracy, toppling the fleshy giants almost every time.
But the men-at-arms were not so skilled, many running away or being crushed by
clubs as the rope and metal weights missed their mark. Once fallen, some
soldiers managed to leap atop the orcs’ grotesquely
corpulent bodies to pound metal stakes into their skulls or through some other
vital organs, though most often the wound was minor or the orc
impaled remained alive and infuriated and the soldier was torn to pieces. The
brave guardians of Eternos did have one advantage,
however, in that an orc was just as dim-witted as he
was strong, so a single man-at-arms in retreat could fool a whole group of orcs into falling through a covered pit to be skewered by
spears at the bottom. Others led orcs to high
boulders where an amazon in hiding attacked from
above with a dagger in hand. And still others took the offensive, hurling
bottles of kerosene corked with burning handkerchiefs, or spraying the orcs with alcohol from a hose and a carriage full of
drinking kegs before lighting them on fire. At the high walls of Eternos, the orcs were too fat
and ungainly to climb, so they resorted to breaking through, during which time
they were showered with arrows, drenched with boiling oil, and bombarded by
anything and everything the people could find. Citizens raced from their homes
with arms full of pots, sinks, bathtubs, furnaces, and even furniture to throw
over the walls. And as the battle endured, new ways were found to beat back the
monstrous invaders. But at the front gates, the doors were splintering, as a
grunting horde pushed on one side and a terrified populace pushed back on the
other.
This
is what Hoof witnessed when he paused, after which three more orcs confronted him. Grabbing the two on each side, he
smashed their heads together as Camilla somersaulted off his shoulders, and as
she flew through the air, she wrapped twelve inches of barbwire round the
middle orc’s neck, pulling him down with her weight.
On all fours like a spider then, she examined the body making sure it was dead,
when suddenly, something caught her eye. Darting to a stand she cried, “Look!”
and pointed.
Through
patches of clear horizon, Hoof could see Bone Crusher and his little gray,
giggling goblin, Tuku, standing over a heap of
bodies. Enraged, the towering anthropoid rhino charged. Camilla was quick to
follow, steadying her bow. Long before Hoof’s horn could make its impact,
however, Bone Crusher let his rusty, spiked iron ball fly. The mighty
pachyderm’s head sounded like a thunderclap as it met with half a ton, echoing
throughout the battlefield for all to hear. And for the first time since the
battle began, Hoof groaned in agony, procuring a sense of despair over the
defending warriors hearing and recognizing him. With his shoulder plate dented,
a bloody twig where his small, leafy ear used to be, and his mighty horn broken
in half, the warrior who seemed once invincible now stumbled back, dizzy. But as Bone Crusher reeled his mace in for another
blow, Camilla aimed her arrow at the little goblin laughing maniacally, and
shot him off his shoulder. The laughter having stopped, Bone Crusher dropped
the chain to lift the slain Tuku in his meaty hands,
examining the little gray body as a man would a dying friend, letting out a
horrible, inhuman wail. The amazon queen, meanwhile,
approached her wounded friend and ally.
“Are
you alright? Can you still fight?”
“Let
me go!” he replied, pushing her away, and charged again at his nemesis. Seeing
this, Bone Crusher continued to gather up his chain, as Camilla seized the
spikes of the ball with both hands to stop it. But all the muscle in her body
could not hinder the arm of Bone Crusher, and she soon found herself being
dragged along face down in the grating dirt. Then like the tail end of a whip,
she flew behind the orc high into the air, her
fingers slipping from the spikes, and she came crashing down on her back
against a pile of rocks. But Hoof was quick to tackle him before the mace came
around, and on the crimson, dusty earth the titans rolled one over the other,
Hoof gripping his stout throat while drumming his head into the ground, as Bone
Crusher clamped his jagged, tusk-like teeth into the pachyderm’s long snout. By
the time the amazon queen gathered her senses, she
found Bone Crusher pinning Hoof down while twisting his head to its near
breaking point. Her quiver and dagger lost, she hailed the orc
king with stones, but to her dismay, he did not even seem to notice. Then with
a shrill battle cry she leaped on his back with both arms to strangle him. He,
however, wrapping all four fingers of his hand round the top of her bald head,
sent her tumbling off. Finally, she hurled herself into the air landing both
feet against the back of his neck. It was enough to get his attention, but in
that instant there was a snap, and the mighty heroic rhino shut his tiny,
marble eyes, letting out his last gasp. Bone Crusher turned towards Camilla
then to stomp on her head, having yet to get to her feet, but she rolled away
just as his foot came down. It was a short lived escape, however, as his
massive, murderous hands now tightened round her insignificant waist, lifting
her to meet his dark gaze. “I will crush your bones!” he muttered, his spittle
trickling over her lips and off her chin, feeling his hot breath reeking like
the dead as her ribs pressed deeper into her lungs.
Suddenly,
a metal tip poked through the middle of Bone Crusher’s chest, and Camilla fell
to the ground bewildered. Breathing heavily, she raised her head to see a
handsome man clad in brown boots, a fur loincloth, and a light garment with the
scarlet cross of the Ancients binding his rounded chest, and in his hands, a
shining sword tainted with black blood. But the orc
king was not dead. Turning suddenly, he knocked the man away with the back of
his fist with enough force to crumple the helmet of a man-at-arms, though the
man still stirred. So Bone Crusher gathered up his ball and chain again, spun
it round and let it go. And as half a ton of solid iron sailed across the
reddening sky, the muscle-bound youth whacked it with his sword, and with a
deafening bang like a church bell, the ball arched back into the face of its
owner. Roaring with anguish, Bone Crusher labored to wrench the spikes from his
face, when the fat of his belly enclosed round the warrior’s thrusting, bare
fist. At last, upon tangling the mightiest of orcs
with his own mace’s chain, the brave hero lifted him overhead and with a mighty
heave, sent him so great a distance no man could tell where he landed. Then he
turned to the astonished amazon. “Are you all right?”
“Wh-Who
are you?” she asked.
“I
am He-Man.”
“Great
Father of old!” she exclaimed, bowing. “You’re young again! How can it be?”
“When
Eternia needs He-Man, a He-Man shall arrive,” he
replied, leaving her speechless. Unsheathing his sword from the scabbard at his
back then, he rushed into battle, and all the people who saw him cried, “Look!
Can it be? Why, it is! It’s He-Man! He-Man has come to save us!” With that,
they fought their way through the orcs with such
ferocity, for a time the tide of battle turned. Though hurrying to certain
death, alongside He-Man, they did not seem to care.
With
their leader killed and He-Man returned, many orcs
retreated to the Dark Side. But many more remained taking the defensive,
crushing men-at-arms with boulders. Some boulders reached as far as the city,
like great catapult stones chipping away pieces of the wall. One amazon flew to her death having been accidentally thrown
with the boulder she’d been hiding on. Even sky-sleds and wind raiders were
struck down, spinning out of control before crashing to a fiery, mushrooming
cloud. It was an attack from which there was no refuge. Only He-Man with his
Sword of Power smashed them to dust while they were still hurtling. But even he
was not quick enough to save all his troops.
It
was not long, however, before the orcs were at a loss
for things to throw. And once the red Eternian sun
peered from behind the giant turquoise moon, the men-at-arms donned chrome
plated helmets to blind the orcs whose small olive
eyes favored the perpetual gloom of the Dark Side. Then He-Man led them onward,
and meeting several orcs in his path, he struck them
down with but a few strokes of his gleaming blade.
***
Elsewhere
on the battlefield, on the other side of Eternos, two
men’s lightning quick swords struck terror in the hearts of all who opposed
them. One was the Dark Prince, as he now came to be called, Regan on his black
charging mare which thundering hooves signaled the coming of death. The other
was a pirate aptly named, Blade, fighting with two rapiers far better than most
could with one.
“Another head to add to my collection!” Regan cried upon the whoosh of his blade and the
scream of a young soldier falling headless in his horse’s tracks. “Who will
oppose me!” he shouted, raising the curved, blood-dripping Sword of Jitsu. “Is no one worthy?”
As
in answer to his challenge, a wind raider came swooping down, guns firing. But
it managed only to toss Regan’s long dark hair. Then as it banked for another
pass, Regan kicked his heels against the snorting mare’s sides to meet the
metallic bird head on. And as the wind raider flew overhead, Regan brandished
his magic blade, and its wing fell to the earth. Twirling round and round then,
it crashed at the base of the city wall, but having dropped only ten feet, the
pilot survived, thrown clear of the hulking remains.
“Hyperion,
is that you?” said Regan, dismounting, “I remember you.”
The
man-at-arms struggled to regain his balance. “H-How . . .,” he muttered. “You
didn’t even touch me.”
“Oh,
it doesn’t have to,” Regan replied, twirling the sword in his hands. “This
blade cuts five feet in front it. And it can cut through anything: wood, stone,
steel, but it has a special affinity for flesh!” He stepped closer.
Hyperion
secured his face shield, clenching the handle of his mace. “Don’t kill me . . .
please . . .”
“And
why shouldn’t I? You just tried to kill me!”
“But
I-I guarded you when you were a child . . .”
“Then
why didn’t you stop those kids who were making fun of me? You could have
stopped them, but you didn’t!”
Suddenly,
Hyperion lunged forward, and the next thing he knew, his arm lay severed on the
ground with the hand still gripping his mace. There he stood, seeing it with
terror in his eyes before the pain seized him, and he collapsed. The Dark
Prince finished him then with a clean cut through the neck.
With
his adversary fallen, Darkness came galloping back to him, when an arrow from a
grove of green reeds struck it in the side. The horse now whinnying and
bucking, Regan snapped the feathered tail of the projectile meant for him, and turning
to the reeds, shouted angrily; “Show yourself!” An amazon
appeared then, one with no hair but a single blonde braid falling to her lower
back, and in her hands was a bent bow with two more readied arrows. “Would that
you were the queen,” he said, thumbing the edge of his sword. “She’d make a
fine addition to my collection. But any amazon is a
worthy prize.”
“You
will never take Eternos!” she cried, pulling her
bow’s string back and taking aim. And as her fingers slipped
away both arrows raced towards him with miraculous precision, one at his chest
and the other at his head. But with a double clang they ricocheted off
his whirring steel down to his boots, their bronze points flattened. With that
she left her bow, darting forth with her leg extended, her heel hammering his
eye and he staggered backward. Then she moved to disarm him, but he caught her
by the wrist and held her fast.
“What
they say is true,” he said panting, her crystal blue eyes mere inches from his
own, “if you stare too long at an amazon, you will be
mesmerized by their beauty. It is a mistake I shall not make again!” He plunged
his sword into her chest, leaving nothing but the hilt and handle to jut
between her nipples.
As
her glassy eyes quivered with sudden awareness, she gasped through clenched,
bloodstained teeth; “Long live the king!” Sliding off the blade then, her body
slumped to the ground.
“Yes
my dear, long live the king. Long live King Regan!” And he sheathed his sword.
Not
too far away, bodies piled up around the pirate swordsman. Stopping a mace
short from crushing his skull with one sword, Blade thrust his other through
the small space between the man-at-arm’s helmet and face shield. Then two more
men-at-arms rushed him. But he parried them both with his swords, and in the
end left them to bleed with missing limbs.
***
Meanwhile,
the innards of orcs gushed from their opened bellies,
orc heads rolled in the dust, and often, as He-Man
leaped into the air with a mighty downward cleave, heads split in half. But
even with the gore surrounding him, the orcs crowded
round, slaughtering men-at-arms till few remained.
In
the end, there were only two, a man-at-arms barely in
his teens who managed to survive by avoiding combat, whose armor and helmet
hung on him like clothes on a hanger, and He-Man at his back.
“Everyone’s
dead!” the boy cried. “Everyone I know is dead! And they’re everywhere!”
“Stand
your ground, son,” He-Man replied, tightening his sweaty grip on the Sword of
Power. “Don’t be afraid.”
“But
I can’t fight!” he sobbed, his mace shaking. “I just joined the Guard! I’ve
never killed anything in my life . . .” With that, he vomited on his oversized
boots.
He-Man
drew a slashing half-circle, forcing three of the orcs
at bay. “Then I’d be proud to have you as my son.”
The
boy smiled. But it was short lived as more orcs came
near. “We’re gonna die . . . we’re gonna die . . .” he murmured nervously.
“If
we die,” said He-Man, “you’ll die with me.”
Suddenly,
thunder cracked and an eagle screeching eclipsed the sun with its orange,
white, and blue wings. But a streak of lightning in the sky remained like an
open wound, as if the heavens themselves frowned on what the earth had wrought,
bleeding a torrential, violet anomaly. And from this anomaly came a great steel
bird like no other, barrels on its sides discharging beams of light,
penetrating and destroying whole clusters of orcs at
the very heart of their assemblage, blackening the earth beneath their stomping
feet. Those on the outer rim of the blast managing to crawl away were left with
bone and wooden clubs incinerated, or remained welded to their smoldering,
crude iron weapons. He-Man and the boy soldier, however, were unscathed. But
still surrounded, they stared up in awe as a black cloud spread across the sky
pitching all Eternos and the battlefields surrounding
it under its shade. And the land buzzed with the beating of wings and there was
a sonorous humming all around.
“I’ll
be damned!” cried Blade, crouching low as his one unpatched
eye peered up at the come darkness. “Bees!”
“No
you fool!” Regan replied, riding past him. “Beople!”
The
canopy of the ship, meanwhile, opened to release a bronze girl who soared
higher into the air like a freed butterfly, spreading her arms to embrace the
wind. Then she descended upon the heroes like an angel with her snowy all
encompassing hair tumbling. And reaching up, He-Man clasped her gloved palm and
the boy took hold of him, and together the three escaped from the pressing
circle of orcs.
“My
Alexandra,” He-Man murmured. “She did it.”
“You
really ought to give her more credit,” Rain replied, setting them gently down
in an open field. “Now I have some work to do.”
Turning
to the city, the goddess of air wheeled her fingers, calling twin-sister
whirlwinds to appear from seemingly nowhere. And spiraling round each other,
they hopped and danced across the land, avoiding all but orcs
who were devoured by their white, churning mouths. Twisting towards the city
then with a whisper and the gliding of her slender hand, they swept orcs from the battered, splintering front gates, carrying
them off grunting, reaching helplessly in a fit of confusion, to utter
oblivion. But when song flowed from Rain’s lips, lightning streamed through
her, electrifying her hair into a perfect sphere. And with her pointing toes
inches from the ground, she confronted the orcs, letting webs of
lightning from her fingertips reduce them to ashes. Finally, the pools of blood
on the battlefield were washed away by her summoned rain, and dirt turned to
mud, leaving the ungainly orcs to slip, topple, and
be overcome by their enemies.
Giant
bees, all the while, came crashing like the tide in thousands against the
thickest concentration of orcs, overwhelming them
with their long, hooked, downward stabbing spears.
They lightly fluttered over the angry orcs’ heads
avoiding the bludgeoning devices that could easily crush their frail bodies,
quick to pull up their spears lest the orcs grab them
and draw them into the frenzy. But when an orc did
manage to club one from the air, another of the beople
would soon take his place, and another, till a spear lodged into the orc’s skull, scraping out pieces of brain with its metal
hooks as the humanoid bee wrenched it loose. Even if the bee’s sting was not at
first fatal, missing the head for a shoulder, upon breaking the skin the orc would quickly swell to even more grotesque proportions,
till popping like a boil. Some beople could even, by
spitting large globs of honey, hinder their foes in the sticky substance making
them sluggish, easy targets.
Now,
with the beople having joined the fight, the other
defenders regrouped. And soon the center of the battlefield erupted with
slender green women, bulky, orange armored men-at-arms, brown fleshy orcs and golden yellow and black beople,
a sight to behold that all the memories of life time could not be made forgot,
an orgy of death.
***
“I’ve
been ordered to kill you, Miss,” said Blade, clanging his swords together.
“By whom?”
He
smiled a crooked smile. “Why, by you’re brother of
course!” And he dashed at her.
She
flipped away, landing with grace. “Your war is lost. Now he thinks killing me
will save him?”
“I
don’t know what he thinks, Miss.”
Alexandra
planted one foot back, forging a sword from her sleeve. “Well, you’ll have to
fight me first!”
Laughing,
he sharpened one sword with his other. “That should be easy. Y’know, they don’t call me Blade for nothing. I’m the best
swordsman in this here universe next to your brother.”
“Did
he give you that scar?” she asked, swinging at him.
He
ducked. “That he did.” And sparks flew from their clashing blades.
“He
did a nice job,” she panted. “But I must finish it!”
He
stumbled back as she advanced. “You’re pretty good for a woman!”
“Well
. . .,” she replied, her sword a blur, “I had a good teacher.”
He
snapped at her neck, using his swords like a pair of scissors. “And who would
that be?”
Slashing
his left wrist, she forced the sword from his hand. “Adam son
of Randor, the rightful king of Eternia!”
“Gods!”
he screamed, cupping his fresh wound to stop the bleeding. “You cut me!” She
did not reply, but moved faster, parrying his sword till slipping through his
defense and finally, sinking her blade into his soft side. With that, the
second sword fell as he clutched himself, and his face turned suddenly pale.
“Alas . . . I’m killed!” he gasped, and the last of the pirates collapsed.
“Did
I forget to mention,” she added, turning her sword into her sleeve, “when we
used to spar, I’d often beat my brother.”
***
Calm.
As
another day came to a close and the sun crept slowly off to its hiding place
behind the moon, men and women roamed the quiet fields looking for anyone
living, side stepping a man-at-arms, one of the beople,
an orc or sometimes an amazon.
Others dared look into the faces of the dead to find a comrade, a friend, a
brother or a son, though many were beyond recognition.
“Adam!”
Mari’na called, running.
He
embraced her. “I’m sorry I had to part with you.”
“It’s
alright. At least you’re alive. I was so worried.”
Kneeling
down to examine the body of a man missing his head, slowly, He-Man wept. “Alas, poor Hyperion. He wished not to fight this war.”
“Just
look around you!” Mari’na murmured. “All are to be
mourned.”
But amongst a sea of dead and bitter mourning, one remained standing, still eager, still thirsting for blood. That man was Prince Regan.
Chapter 14
Mari’na
ran to him with open arms, but He-Man pulled her back.
“Father,”
said he, raising his sword to He-Man’s chest. “It’s not finished yet.”
“It
is finished, Regan,” He-Man replied, lowering his sword.
“No,”
he said, shifting between stances. “If I kill you, I remain the only true heir.
And I will be king.”
“You
no longer have your limp,” He-Man remarked.
“See
what evil has done for me? It is . . . a rewarding philosophy.” The prince
smiled.
“Who
has profited by what you’ve done!” the king cried angrily. “Have we? Have the
amazons?” He pointed to the corpse of a green woman lying flat on her stomach.
“Yes, truly a pity,” Regan replied, “and my
half-sister too. What a waste of
flesh, I could have enjoyed her so. But no great loss, a few of my half-sisters
remain.”
“What
of the beople,” He-Man continued, ignoring him, “or
your friends, the orcs! You led them to die for your
gain.”
“They
died of their own weakness!” said he, tightening his fist. “They should have
been stronger.”
“Face
it, you have done great, great wrong.”
“Wrong?
And who decides what is wrong? You and your court magistrates can argue from
the moment a mountain is born to the day it crumbles into the sea, but when all
is said and done only one thing determines right from wrong, the sword! The
power to enforce one’s own beliefs! Without such power, your decrees mean
nothing. Even now, the legitimacy of your rule depends upon your armies to
defend it.”
“And
you would kill me?” He-Man asked, and turned away.
“Fight
me, damn you!” Regan cried, thrusting his blade to be
blocked by the now lifted Sword of Power.
He-Man
now clenched his blade in both hands, lining it between his eyes. “If you would
fight me, take this!” And he knocked Regan back, sword against sword. “If this
is the only language you understand, know that I speak it well, and have known
it long before you!”
Mari’na
reached out to him. “Adam . . . stop!”
“No!”
he replied. “I’ve no pity for villains!”
“Come,
Father!” Regan shouted with glee, magical sparks flying with every word. “Let’s
see who truly is the most powerful man in the universe!”
A
once civil man now become savage, his face full of rage; He-Man pounded against
Regan’s sword as if to break it. Regan’s strength was just enough to keep the
weapon in his grasp as his arms flailed this way and that, power sizzling
through the shaft to its handle, and through his arm nearly shattering his
elbow. But the prince was quicker and more agile, dodging, ducking, and
parrying, upon which delivering several attacks of his own before the king
could recoil with another.
“You’re
still a slow, old man, full of archaic notions of virtue!” Regan scoffed. “Grayskull’s magic gave you only the appearance of youth!”
“Knowledge
is power!” He-Man retorted, swinging upwards with such momentum, Regan tumbled
backward in the dust. “Knowledge I wished to bestow upon you, if you’d only
listened! Do you think your eighteen years can make up for my sum?”
Regan
rolled to his feet, fending off another sweep fretted with magic fire. Then the
Sword of Power slashed apart his princely gold and black smock, the mere
thickness of leather from his bare bosom. So he let the wind carry away his
upper garments to reveal his lean, muscular body, much like his father’s, and
the fight continued.
The
ringing of swords echoed throughout the land as father dueled with son,
summoning Alexandra and Rain, Camilla limping with her three surviving sisters,
Sting of the beople, and the poor citizens of Eternos. Together with Mari’na
they watched, wondering, hoping, and within themselves cheering. As for the
queen, it pained her to see, weighing the fate of her husband with that of her
son with a piece of her heart on each side of the scale, rejecting both
outcomes with despair. Yet curiosity twisted her head and pried open her eyes.
Then
all was deathly silent and still save for the rushing air and the panting of
the two men with an occasional clash and grinding of steel upon steel. Each
drenched with sweat, they orbited round one another like dancers seeing only
their sword before their enemy, nothing but malice in their cold, pale eyes.
And for a time the warrior hardened with experience and the warrior of youthful
ambition was matched in every way. Death came lingering behind every stroke,
the line of Life as thin as the space between the cutting edge and the skin of
the neck or the flesh of the breast. Sometimes, all but a fraction of steel
separated Life from Death.
Seconds
now past like days, and as the setting sun stretched their shadows across the
crumbling wall of the city, their arms grew weary, and for a moment the mother
of one and wife of the other prayed they’d tire enough to agree on a bloodless
truce.
“What’s
wrong, old man?” Regan scoffed, panting. “Getting tired?”
He-Man
lowered his sword to catch his breath. But as his feet stumbled upon another
mangled corpse, anger surged through his veins again, and he advanced, pushing
Regan back across the barren plain and up a low crop of boulders from which
there was no further retreat.
“No!”
Mari’na shouted, running towards them. “He’s going to
kill my son!”
“Mother!”
Alexandra cried. “Leave them be!”
Regan’s
face was an icon of dread as he blocked his father’s blows, without the speed
or strength to rebound. His sword felt loose in his hands, his arms heavy, and
the heel of his boots slid ever so slowly over the rim of the boulder. Kneeling
back then, the Sword of Power plummeted towards his face, but he slipped away
so that it merely gashed his cheek. But He-Man did not let up, closing the gap
between them and breaking through Regan’s circle of defense till there was no
room left to escape.
With
a storm of emotions now churning in his soul, He-Man hesitated, ready to thrust
his steel into his own son’s heart. Then suddenly, Regan surged forward, firmly
clutching the Sword of Power as it dived for his naked breast while hurling his
own sword in an act of desperation.
Just
as Mari’na arrived to push the two apart, the curved
Sword of Jitsu punched though He-Man’s lower back,
and he stumbled two steps from Regan with his own sword balanced weakly in his
hand. Turning to face his wife, she gasped at the sight of the handle
protruding from his belly, blood trickling like a brook down his waist to his
thigh, and he motioned as if to speak but no words escaped his mournful, drying
lips. Regan coldly retrieved his sword then, removing it from his father’s body
as he reached for his son’s shoulder, both men exchanging glances. With that,
He-Man became ghostly pale and trembling, beads of cold sweat breaking from his
brow, and without the strength to stand he fell away from his son and slipped into
Mari’na’s arms.
“Adam!”
she cried, couching his head in her lap. “Oh gods!
What shall I do? What shall I do?”
“I’m
. . .”
“What
is it?” she sobbed, caressing him. “Tell me!”
“I’m
sorry,” he said, lifting his red stained hand to brush the tears from her
cheeks. “He is our son, even still. I don’t hate him . . .”
Regan
walked up to them breathing heavily, trying in vain to stop the bleeding from
his cheek, sword gripped tightly at his waist. “Step-aside,
Mother.”
“
. . . But you must,” he continued, straining with each word, his chest rising
and falling violently, “not let him be king.” And he handed her the sword. “Do
you . . . understand?”
“Mother!
I said step-aside.”
But
she did not heed her son. “Yes,” she whispered, accepting it with quivering hands.
“I understand.”
“Step-aside
or I’ll go through you!” he cried, brandishing his blade.
She
turned to him. “Run me through if you must! I’ve no heart left in me to live.”
Grabbing
her roughly by the arm, he pulled her away, prepared to stab the king again, then cocked his head back with a familiar, high-pitched
cackle, as lightning flashed behind them casting him in a strange light. And in
that instance, He-Man gazed up with horror and understanding, calling out; “My
son . . . Skeletor.” These were the last words of
He-Man. Mari’na threw herself over his body, as if to
catch his fleeting spirit, and there in her arms he died.
“Old
fool,” the prince murmured. “He got in my way. I had to kill him. I had no
choice.”
Suddenly,
she jumped to her feet, straining with both hands to raise the Sword of Power.
“Are
you going to kill me now, Mother?” he asked mockingly.
She
remained coldly silent, her face pale and her eyes icy, bankrupt of emotion.
“Go ahead,” he added, dropping his weapon. “I won’t even defend myself.”
With
all her will she fought to keep the sword steady. But soon her eyes turned
watery, and she shuddered.
“Go
ahead . . . it’s easy!” he said, guiding the point to
his chest. “All you have to do is push.”
“I
can’t!” she cried at last, the sword slipping between her hands. And she fell
on her knees sobbing, her graying hair masking her face and her arms plopped to
her sides as if she hadn’t the strength to lift them.
“As
I thought,” he scoffed, “you’re weak!” And he bent down to lift his blade when
a long shadow passed over the ground, one not his own. Turning, then, he came
face to face with Princess Alexandra. “Sister . . .!”
Without
a word, her face like stone, she buried the blade of her mind-metal armor up to
the hilt in his chest, leaving the half of it to protrude between his shoulder
blades. With that, he threw his arms up and his head skyward, spewing blood
from his mouth like a fountain. And sliding from her blade, leaving it red and
wet with blood, he slumped to the earth, eyes open as if to conquer sight of
the world, the shock of defeat frozen on his face.
Though the war was won and Prince Regan was slain, no man in Eternos rejoiced that day. For their queen never moved from that spot on the battlefield. There she stayed doing all she could think to do. With her daughter, and Rain, and Camilla by her side, she placed the body of her son next to the body of his father, clutched them as a mother would her newborns, and wept bitterly. And all Eternia wept with her.
Epilogue:
In
the courtyard of Palace Eternos, where the fire
flowers wilted and the once green square bushes were now faded brown, two
twelve-year-old children, a girl and a boy, laughed and played.
“I
am He-Man!” cried the boy, wielding a branch. “You can be the evil Prince
Regan.”
“I
can’t be the evil Prince Regan!” the girl retorted. “How can I be a prince?
Maybe I can be the beautiful, Princess Regan.” And she struck a pose, batting
her eyes.
“What!?
There’s no such thing!”
“But
Adam!” she whined, “why do I always haveto be the
evil one?”
“Because
I am He-Man!” the boy shouted, lifting his branch. “He-Man has-to fight
somebody.”
“Well
you could be Prince Regan and I could be Mother.”
“No way!
I’m He-Man!” And he poked her with the stick.
“Hey!”
she cried, running away.
“Come
back here and fight, Prince Regan!” And he chased her around the garden to a
marble fountain-pool full of fallen leaves, a cracked, mossy statue rising from
its center of a young warrior with a granite sword, now broken, raised
overhead.
“Wait!”
she said, kneeling down with her hands cupped.
“What
is it?”
“Look,”
she said. And there between her palms was a little bee, buzzing frantically.
“The poor thing’s lost its wings.”
“Be
careful, Marlena, it might sting you.”
“No,”
she whispered, petting it with her finger. “It’s my friend.”
“Maybe
Mom will let us keep it,” said he, dropping his branch, “just until its wings
grow back.”
She looked at him and smiled. “Maybe. Let’s go tell her.”
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