He-Man 1. 1 Queen's Blade

The Queen and the Captain

The field of battle had gone quiet. For a moment, Teela thought it might be over, but she had been in enough battles to know that a sudden quiet only meant that things were about to get much worse. The sky had gone orange with dark, green storm clouds and the air so thick that drops of sweat and blood floated briefly before bursting.

The only warriors bleeding were her own.

A mass of fleshless creatures suddenly massed directly in front of her, all bone and cloth and steel. Teela's sword swung with a precision born of single-minded dedication, but she only deflected the rush of attacks; there were too many to counter. Instinct and training guided her blade. She couldn't tell one foe from the next as they pressed and hissed. Slowly, she was forced back.

Other guardsmen soon attacked the enemy's flank; Teela tried to withdrawal into the safety of friends in green and yellow armor, but the arm that grabbed her was garbed in blue. She was roughly pulled out of harm's way and lifted to stand against a broken wall. Somehow, Mekaneck managed to register his disapproval of her with just a look despite the fact that his helmet covered everything but his thin lips. She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Get back to the fight," she ordered.

"Men are getting hurt because they're worrying about you," growled through gritted teeth.

Teela tried to focus her anger into an appropriately caustic response, but the words wouldn't come and Mekaneck didn't wait for her anyway. The neck that had earned him his name was suddenly extending, lifting his head an additional three meters so that he could scan the battle with his enhanced vision. He read the battle and gave orders to the platoon commander through his headset, waited to see that those orders were understood and followed, and then waded back into the battle, swinging a mace that shattered the evil bone warriors.

"Your plan is good, but I want you to stay behind this time," Mekaneck told her, his head slightly raised, Teela noticed, and felt like he was doing it intentially so that it looked like he was looking directly down on her.

She stepped back and crossed her arms. "That's what you said last time."

"Last time was only four days ago; not a lot has changed since then."

"We won based on my battle plan and we will win this battle based on my battle plan." Mekaneck said nothing, infuriating her all the more. "I passed every test a guardsmen is required to take two years ago. I waited months for someone to agree to let me join their company. That someone was you; it was the happiest day of my life. But now you tell me I can't fight."

"Teela, when I agreed to let you join the squad, it was a different time. We weren't at war. We don't even know what these things are yet. I can't have my men looking out for you in a situation like this."

Teela's had to suppress an urgent need to reach for her sword. "I will challenge you to a duel right now."

Now Mekaneck took a step back, waving his arms dismissively. "And you would win. I've seen you with the sword. But what would that prove?"

Teela took a deep breath. "It would prove that you couldn't stop me if I joined the battle without your permission." She spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving Mekaneck to think that this was just the type of behavior that made him want to keep her out of the battle.

Watching her father stand in front of a room of soldiers was strangely comforting to Teela. She had been sitting in the front row or next to him at the war table for as long as she could remember. Man-at-Arms had never given a speech about how he had expected his daughter treated. He had never insisted they treat her like a lady or like the soldier she was trying to be. Teela had earned the respect of most of these men, not because of her father, but because of her own actions on and off the battlefield.

But no battle had been like this one. Skirmishes with Gar raiders and rogue beast tribes hadn't prepared Eternia for its new foe.

The unnamed enemy had sent over a hundred skeletal soldiers. Even as they were decimated, none ran. To the last, the skeletal creatures had bit and scratched and stabbed at the Eternian defense. Less than a dozen guardsmen had fallen, twice that wounded, some seriously. In another situation, her father would have declared today a great victory. But it was clear that today's attack and the similar attacks of previous weeks were just tests and harassment.

Emissaries had been sent all over Eternia to find information about the strange army's origin. Nothing. It was almost as if they sprung from the ground fully formed on the battlefield. Indeed, some of the magicians were looking into the possibility. None of them could imagine a modern power capable of attack.

Man-at-Arms finished listing the dead and wounded. "A few weeks ago, over half of our guardsmen had never seen battle and only a handful remember war. Our training has served to this point, but there's just not enough of us to deal with what we're seeing out there. We will be sending word throughout Eternia that we have opened our ranks and will be accepting new guardsmen. We will try to give these new men the same training experience as we have always provided, but I can't promise that we'll have time."

"Some of those men will be women, I hope," Teela interjected.

There was a smattering of laughter. Teela tried to see who was laughing, but they quieted quickly under her glare. "We will see," was all her father said.

Man-at-Arms stepped up on a chair so that he could see the whole room. A few of the men were in bandages, but morale was high after such a victory. Even the ambiguity of the battle could not dull the rush of victory. "I do have one specific commendation to make today. One squad among you lost no one. And its injuries amount to scrapes and bruises no worse than we could expect from a training exercise." Everyone looked around, wondering who had pulled off such a feat. Teela almost leapt out of her seat before her father could say her name. "Mekaneck," he said. "Come over here and let us shake your hand."

She watched Mekaneck walk to the front of the room, grasp her father's hand, and then wave off the cheers of his brothers as if he was some sort of humble mensch. Teela bit through her bottom lip. Mekaneck was technically the squad leader, but Teela had trained the squad and devised the battle plan. The only thing Mekaneck deserved to be congratulated for was staying out of her way. But there he was, taking the credit and not even glancing her way.

Teela relied on years of training to sneak quietly out of the room.

Teela did not cry. She knew that men thought crying was a weakness, though she had seen many men in cry before, during, and after battle. She didn't just want to be their equal, she wanted to be better than them. She walked the halls of the palace searching for distraction. A light in the King's armory drew her into magnificent room, usually sealed and guarded, though she had visited it with the prince and her father many times.

A large, disassembled rifle lay on the long center table in dozens of small pieces. Teela knew the weapon well. It was called Queen's Blade. And the Queen herself now cleaned it.

"Excuse me, your majesty," Teela said. "I didn't expect to find you here. I thought to find your lazy son."

"A weapon fired must be cleaned," Queen Marlena said. "I would welcome your company, Teela."

"I did not know you still practiced shooting, your majesty." Teela stood across from the Queen, looking over the magnificent weapon. She had never seen it apart like this, although it was similar to other rifles she'd cleaned herself. This one had more pieces, several she didn't recognize at all, and no operating crystals that she could see.

Marlena answered, "It's true that I don't practice enough, but today was not a day for practice."

Teela crushed the sudden rush of giddiness she felt. "You joined the battle? When? Where? You must tell me more." She paused, annoyed at herself. "Your majesty," she added.

"Let's not let it get out to our loyal guardsmen just yet, Teela. The glory of today's victory is all theirs. I certainly won't take any credit for hiding in a window sniping a few monsters while they bled on the ground."

Teela felt even more pride in her noble Queen. "But how many do you think you got?"

The Queen smiled shyly. "A lady never tells," she said. Her small hands never stopped moving over her weapon, scraping and oiling and polishing each piece. "I'm just kidding. Seventeen." She was pleased to hear Teela's gasp. "Now, what has the brave warrior Teela, future captain of the guard, wandering the castle halls?"

"I was just thinking about the battle."

"It was well fought," the Queen praised. "Your squad in particular walked away with little more than a scratch."

"You heard? How?"

"I have long followed your career, Teela. I remember when you disarmed a cocky new guardsman for the first time. You were eight, as I recall."

"Yes, your majesty." Teela remembered the moment well. Anytime a guardsman looked down on her, she remembered the red face of the first man she had stripped of weapon and reputation. But she couldn't forget what had happened tonight. "It seems like I'd have to disarm the whole service to get any respect from them."

"Now you know that's not quite true. It's certainly not the whole truth. I didn't see any other girls on the battlefield today. You have been trusted to defend Eternia side by side with guardsmen for over a year now. You are a year younger than the youngest and the only woman that has fought in many years."

"But when will they stop seeing me as an exception and start seeing me as one of them?"

The Queen actually giggled. "Teela, sweet Teela. That will never happen."

"What do you mean it will never happen? I'm going to make it happen."

"Teela, you may become the greatest warrior Eternia has ever known, but that will not make you one of them."

"But why aren't there female guardsmen? There's not even a rule against it. Why do they treat us this way?"

Now the Queen did set aside her weapon to look at Teela deep green eyes and take her strong wrists in her hands. "I remember when Mekaneck was hurt fighting Mer-Man. The Mer-Man creature came onto the beach just for the thrill of the slaughter. He killed dozens, including Mekaneck's family-two daughters, his wife. So much blood. Mekaneck became a hero to all of us that day and your father saved his life. I'm sure you're familiar with the results.

"Guardsmen think they are becoming guardsmen to protect women and children."

"I can protect myself."

"Teela, none of us can protect ourselves. That's the most foolish thing I may have ever heard you say. We build this city and sign truces and raise our children under the rule of law because we know that the only way to truly be protected is to stand together. Every guardsmen that swears his-" there was a slight pause. "knows this truth. If we could protect ourselves from beast men and shadow beasts and Gar anarchists, we wouldn't need guardsmen in the first place. But we do. And we need you too, Teela."

"Why don't more women unite for this protection you say we need?"

"There isn't a single Eternian woman I know that isn't doing her part. In order to change people's expectations, we must first understand them. One day, things may be different and more will find a place in uniform. We will work towards that goal together, Teela. You may become the beacon that women rally behind for hundreds of years to come."

Cloaked in shadow, sitting silently just outside the room, Prince Adam listened to every word.


	2. 2 A Word with a Bird and a Bird Man

Words with A Bird and A Bird Man

Man-at-Arms knew a fire for what it was: life-giving warmth and burning danger, beacon to a friend and signal to an enemy. He sat attentively, never looking at the fire, taking in the empty sounds of the abandoned battlefield and the slight purple glow of the night sky. The Eternians had cleared their dead and wounded. The enemy simply turned to dust and was carried away by the wind. Attempts to save the bones and have them examined resulted in the same. Dust and dust. He could feel it in the air he breathed and knew he was past worrying about its potential hazard to his health. That would be just another in a long line of questions to which he'd like answered.

Gradually, the wind seemed to change in a way that most men would never notice. Man-at-Arms knew what it meant though. Silent next to the crackling flame, the bird man of Avian descended from the sky and landed so softly that his foot left no mark on the ground. Man-at-Arms waved a hand in greeting and muttered his appreciation. There was something about the bird men that always made Man-at-Arms feel clumsy. Stratos, was a king to his people, and his movements made it even worse. His movements were so light they seemed almost feminine to the Eternian soldier, and he wondered how the people of Avian would survive if real battle ever came to their eyrie. Who knew who they would fight for if a more powerful enemy reared its head? He understood that his distrust came from an inability to read the bird man's body language or face. The people of Avian looked like men, but hairier. Even their women seemed quite hairy by human standards. But the hair was human hair in appearance alone. To the touch, it felt like soft down of baby birds. They had surprisingly agile human hands and human-looking feet that could curl around to grab branches like a bird's talons. Their bones were incredibly thin and flexible. These adaptations made it possible for the people of Avian to fly, but not without the aid of wings they had been crafting for generations beyond count.

"Thank you for meeting me," he said. "And not too soon. There was another battle today."

"You pre vail?" Stratos' voice was clipped, pronouncing each syllable as if it was a separate word.

"We prevailed today. But they will come again; I'd lay my title on it." Man-at-Arms saw Stratos cock his head in what he assumed was inquisitiveness. "I am grateful you agreed to help. King Randor has long wanted a closer relationship between our people." More silence. Stratos didn't even move. Man-at-Arms forced himself to remember the King's lesson on cultural differences. The banter of polite conversation between men likely sounded completely different in Avian. He got to his point. "Did you find anything?"

"When I am a boy, my fath er fly me to the wall just built. I laugh. Bird man just fly over mys tic wall. My fath er say no. This wall is diff er rent. Looks like this big, real ly, big as sky go. You and your king do not ask my peop le what we think of wall. We tell you is fol ly to give so much sky. But you no ask." Stratos' head jerked back and forth at odd angles as he talked. His hands moved with his words in a way that Man-at-Arms knew would mean something more to one his own people, but he could barely follow it in the darkness. "Is al so fol ly to think you safe be cause of wall. Now, wall is gone. Stone stand, but sky is op en."

Man-at-Arms had been sure of what Stratos would find, but he had needed the evidence. An expedition of his own people would have wasted valuable time. Still, the words made him recoil. If the wall had failed, then something had made it fail. He had hoped that the evil would die behind the wall, but instead, it seemed to have flourished, perhaps in a new form, but flourished nonetheless. Long ago, they could have removed its head, but a King's guilt is deeply felt. Randor hoped the wall would be the thing to cool the passions of youth's mistakes. It was a guilt and a mistake they would have to face now. Stratos was right. There could not be another wall to hide behind.

He could not show the bird man any weakness, but he wondered how Stratos' people even perceived weakness. He said, "For the wall's magic to be broken, as impossible as it seems, a section of the wall must have been damaged. Did you find it?"

"I do. Where dunes meet sea, the wall is gone as if burn. Rock is melt. Sand is glass." Man-at-Arms knew the place. It was where he had stood when the wall had been erected years ago. He was just acting Man-at-Arms then, standing in for his mentor and perhaps allowing the king, his friend, to make the worst mistake in Eternia's history.

Stratos came closer, his feet moving lightly and fast. He stood by the fire. Man-at-Arms could see that Stratos wore special devices around his ankle to speed his flight and special goggles to aid his vision in the dark. The bird man never looked at the flame. With those goggles, he could probably see in the dark as well as Man-at-Arms did in the day. "What is grow on that side of the wall is bad. E vil. We know it. Av i an stands with E ter ni a. We is al lies."

"We will need you," Man-at-Arms said. "How many warriors will Avian send?"

"I am here," Stratos answered.

"You?" Man-at-Arms couldn't hide his surprise. "You are a king to your people. You can't fight with us alone. Summon your warriors. They will be invaluable in the upcoming days. If you like, we can even sign formal treaties, directing how and when your people can be used."

"In Av i an, king means dif fer ent than here. And so, I am here." Stratos seemed to hold himself a little taller after the statement, and Man-at-Arms wondered at his pride and felt that the gulf between his people might not be so wide after all.

Still, he had to make the king of Avian see reason. "Surely you can see how valuable a flight of Avian's warriors could be to us. It could make all the difference."

"A vi an will not be emp ty when your en e my comes for us. You have me now. I will serve. It is what a king does."

Man-at-Arms recognized that pushing any more than he already had might alienate Stratos altogether. The bird man had proven with his speedy reconnaissance that even one bird man could make a big difference. He bowed to the king of Avian. "Any assistance you can provide will be quite welcome, your majesty."

After a brief silence, Man-at-Arms worried that he had somehow insulted Stratos. The bird man's voice came in the form of a cautious whisper. "There is an other bird here," he said. It sounded like a question, but he didn't wait for Man-at-Arms to answer. Stratos' knees bent almost imperceptibly and then he was launched into the air as if he'd been launched from a catapult. Man-at-Arms watched him ascend for a moment, but Stratos was out of sight within seconds.

What did Stratos mean, another bird is here?

The answer came in the form of a strike that would have ripped an unarmored man nearly in half. Man-at-Arms had trained to respond to surprise, but he couldn't even see the thing beyond its dark outline and the weight of it as it hit. Because of his armor, he couldn't feel it, but suspected that it was feathered. Stratos had called it a bird, but no bird he knew of would attack an armored man standing by a fire. This was an unnatural thing.

Desperately, he scanned the sky. Then the creature let burst a screech that seemed to burst his inner ear. He was awash in nausea and vertigo. Again it fell upon him, now weakened and unable to defend himself, he could only fall and feel his armor peel away. The next strike would spill blood and the bird would feast on his flesh if flesh was what it sought. Man-at-Arms gripped his famous mace, the mace that had passed to each man carrying his title. He would not be the first to die with it in his hands. But would they find it or his body when he did.

Then there was a voice his mind both familiar and comforting. Hearing it, he knew he would not die tonight. "Your eyes can see," she said. Then he looked up, saw the wicked bird. It was a mass of dark purple and scarlet red with a wingspan as wide as he was tall, perhaps beautiful except for its crooked foul beak and empty eyes. And it was coming for him. It fell faster than a stone. For Man-at-Arms, it might as well have been standing still. He brought the mace down on the bird's body, smashing it into the ground. The blow should have killed the thing, but it just lurched up, flapped its wings once to put distance between itself and its former prey. Where there should have been eyes were instead empty sockets of pure rage and hate. It hobbled away for a moment and then took to the sky. Man-at-Arms watched it go, his night vision returning to normal until the sky once again seemed a dark, almost black purple.

Oddly, the return of normal vision assured him that he was safe, even when another bird streaked out of the sky, this one smaller, only slightly larger than a falcon. Man-at-Arms bowed low before the bird, lower even than he had bowed for the king. He stood and said, "It has been too long since I heard your voice in my thoughts, longer still since I've seen you or your familiar, Sorceress."

"I needed to see you too, Duncan." Though the falcon's gaze stayed locked on Man-at-Arms, the voice of the woman, full of of grace, was only in his mind. "I regret that this is the best I can do now, but I regret more so that I will have need to see you in person all too soon."

Man-at-Arms took a deep breath. "It is time then."

"Yes." The voice was little more than a whisper.

He glanced around, adjusted his armor. "What was that thing that attacked me? And where did Stratos go? He was just telling me that Avian would ally with Eternia, then he vanished. Was that bird creature his doing?"

"The creature was called Screech. I am not the only magic-user on Eternia with a familiar, though this thing should have died long ago. Magic alone sustains its life. I fear that magic alone can defeat it." The falcon shifted its weight and looked to the sky.

"You said it was a familiar. To whom?"

"To the creature that brought this army to your walls. To the overlord of evil, an evil so vast I can hardly stand to sense it. As to its name, I have none. It hides from me, though I believe I have managed to remain hidden from it as well. Its power is death. Its purpose is malignance. It is to be feared. I suggested to Stratos that he hide and then follow the thing back to its home. I knew you could not slay it. Stratos will not know that the idea was not his own, but he is undetected and following fast behind Screech." Again and again the falcon shifted its weight from foot to foot.

"You say that it is commanded by something beyond the wall. Because of this thing, we must invoke the power of the prophecy for which we've prepared all these years?" Man-at-Arms stood proudly now. "I have done all I could. Teela is ready."

Then there was a long silence full of worry. Man-at-Arms suddenly found himself weak. "All these years… It's not Teela, is it? All these years I thought… I worked so hard… She worked so hard, even not knowing why. She never asked why I pushed her. She's done everything. I did it for you. For Eternia. Why? Why did you ask this of me?"

The falcon moved closer, but looked at the man with only one eye. "You have served Eternia with great honor."

"I did not do it for Eternia. I did it for you." His voice broke. Only now did he understand how deeply he loved her. The realization only made the Sorceress' distrust and misleading all the worse. He felt used. And for what? For Teela? He loved Teela first among anything else in the world, more even than he had loved the Sorceress. He didn't even know her real name. How many times had he wanted to let Teela rest, but instead, kept pushing in preparation for this day? He could have let her rest. He could have held her more. He could have told her that the world wasn't as hard as he made it seem. What kind of girl might she have been? "You should see her. You should see how much she's grown, how strong she's become."

"I have seen her." Man-at-Arms knew the Sorceress was telling the truth. Even though she had been silent, there had been times he'd sworn he could feel her. She she knew how good Teela had become, and it still didn't matter to her. The Sorceress added, "I never told you that Teela was the one."

He growled, "You never told me that she wasn't. You knew what I had been made to believe."

The falcon's head dipped up and down, its head side to side. "Teela is just as important as you have always believed, but she is not the one."

"What do you mean important? I tire of your withholding. Say what you mean."

"I cannot. You are just a man. A man can be broken. The enemy must never know what we do."

"What you do, you mean. You use us. You used me."

"I believe there will come a day when you will understand it all. If I'm wrong, then we failed, and none of it will matter anyway."

Man-at-Arms pulled at the remaining tabs that held his armor hanging place. The breastplate, a type of magically hardened fabric, fell to the ground with hardly a thump. "Who is it?" he said. "Who is the one you told me about all those years ago if not my daughter? Who is worthy of it?"

"It is Adam."

He crossed the distance, now standing over her. "The prince? That cannot be. You should have told me. He isn't ready for this. He is untrained. He knows nothing of combat and has shown little interest in it." He turned away, somewhat ashamed of his aggressiveness. "Adam is a student of history and language, and not an especially good one. Had I known any of this, I could have prepared him." He turned again. The falcon was gone, but he still felt her in his mind. "Sorceress, he is unworthy. You must reconsider."

Man-at-Arms stayed by the fire until it was gone. He kicked the ashes across the dusty ground and began the short walk back to the city wall. As the first light of the rising sun touched the horizon, he heard the voice again. "Bring me the boy," it whispered.


	3. 3 Royal Duty

Royal Duty

Tabion was so yellow that he seemed to glow at night. Its brightness made the great cat's green stripes sometimes look black. He had been a haughty creature, insisting that he eat from the kitchen. Chef had not liked that, but no one would dare defy an order from Randor's harsh father. What Randor ate, so ate the massive Tabion at his feet.

Miro had told Randor that the great cat was his birthright. The blood of Miro and his father and father's father stretching back past history carried the gift of understanding the beasts. Miro's cat had been killed in the war against Count Marzo, protecting Miro to the end. Tabion and Randor spoke of it often. The cat described it as his own dream of death, his duty. Once bonded, the great cat could not live past the death of his master. Randor hated that kind of talk. He was a prince, but he still hated when Tabion referred to him as master. Like it or not, the cat told him, you will probably watch me die.

That day, it seemed as though the blood would never stop. And the battle wouldn't even pause for his grieving. There was just smoke and the ash of burnt cloth and flesh and the screaming. Tabion's screaming seemed far louder than any noise he'd ever heard. It echoed in his mind and years later he would still hear it as a far off noise around a corner. It never failed to make him speculate about how the world might be different if he had died. Would it have been so much worse that it was worth the death of so many to prevent? Was he worth Tabion's death?

Mer-man was on top of him when it happened. The thing weighed so much more than it looked like it should. Randor couldn't find the leverage to roll out from under it. It had bitten into his gauntlet, leaving a mark that still remained, but its teeth had caught, binding the two together. As Mer-man's friends rushed to his aid, Tabion leaped between them. Many fell to his claws that day, but it was the great purple cat Panthor that would finally turn the tide. Tabion probably knew that the older cat was launching himself at his flank. There was just nothing he could do about it without exposing Randor to more of the enemy. In that way, Panthor was able to break Tabion's hind leg before the battle ever really started. The loss of blood-so much blood-made the conclusion to the battle inevitable. It had been enough to keep Randor alive. Randor remembered his father, the next day, telling Randor how proud he was that Tabion had died. That Randor had been willing to sacrifice the cat for the greater victory. I was at that moment that Randor came to understand Miro. He saw everything Miro did in a new light, and recognized his father as a deeply flawed king and man. It is a hard thing for a man to first see his father's flaws.

Now Randor sat on the throne. He had a son and a daughter of his own. Was he really so much better than Miro had been? Was he a better man? A better father? A better king? He had gone years without facing the question. He had thought the question would remain locked behind a wall. The wall. Few men had done so much to escape their family.

Over and over again, he heard the final choked cough of Tabion's death cry. He heard it as he watched the battles. It became the cries of his men.

Randor heard a man enter the vast chamber. Every sound echoed when it was empty. He sat at a table with his back to the throne and one eye on the door. But he didn't have to glance up to know that the man in the room was his own Man-at-Arms.

"Your majesty, I asked you to keep a guardsman with you at all times."

"By the Star Seed, Duncan, a man needs to be alone with his thoughts. And besides, you know I have two men standing at the door." Now he looked up and saw his friend missing a breastplate and his face streaked with dried blood. In his hand, he openly held his mace.

Randor stood, his hand going to the handle of his sword. "What has happened? Are they already come again? Why hasn't anyone told me?"

Man-at-Arms noted the furtive glances of his king and friend. Randor was sorely tested. He put a hand on the king's shoulder. "Randor, I'm sure the enemy will come again, but not this day." Randor nodded his head, rolled his shoulders, but didn't remove his hand from his sword. Man-at-Arms continued, "Still, I do have dire news you must hear." Man-at-Arms placed a cube on the table that lit up silently and projected a map of the kingdom into the air above it. A dark scar past the eastern border indicated the wall. Other spots on the map flashed red. Randor recognized them as villages spread out where the land was best.

"Messengers came in from several villages. We had wondered why the traffic to the palace had stopped, and feared the worse. The messengers tell us that the villages are safe, but that anyone who attempts to travel the roads to the palace are attacked. Many have been killed. More have escaped, unfollowed, to return to their respective villages, and tell the tales of monsters made of bone. They are afraid."

"They are right to be afraid."

"Yes, your majesty. I know they are."

"What can we do to protect the villagers?"

Randor touched the screen where the dunes met the scar of the wall, expanding their view. "As you know, I contacted the people of Avian. Unexpectedly, their king came himself. Stratos agreed to search the wall for me and he has agreed to fight for us. Their culture is strange. He will be the only fighter they send. " Duncan paused, knowing the impact his next words would have. "Randor, Stratos reports that the wall has failed." He pointed to the spot Stratos had indicated on the map.

"My great failure," Randor whispered, his eyes far away.

"Perhaps, your majesty. But at the time, the land was blasted, a generation of men dead. It is all too easy to to forget the reasons for the horrible choices we had to make. Guilt and the lingering 'what ifs?' will serve no purpose now." The map flickered, its crystal nearly drained. Many of the old crystals were dying.

Man-at-Arms looked at his friend and king. He hadn't realized just how weary the man was until now. He had aged years in these three weeks. Randor, like Man-at-Arms, had known that the fall of the wall was to blame for their troubles. Was it just three weeks ago they had gathered for the Festival of Stages? They had laughed watching Teela get drafted into playing the role of damsel in distress while Man-E-Faces taunted her as a shadow beast that had fallen in love. No one could believe that Teela was in peril or that a shadow beast would actually feel some affection towards the brash girl. They had laughed, comparing their children and remembering the time when they had none and thought they never would. Now both their children would play a role in plans the Sorceress had made that he couldn't begin to understand. As an old man, how would he look back on the decisions he made this night? He couldn't help but find the idea somewhat humorous because he couldn't even imagine himself as an old man. Of course, when he was a boy, he couldn't imagine himself where he was now either. It was an exhausting cycle, and no wonder old men finally tired of it.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the chamber door opened. Man-at-Arms had given orders not to be disturbed. There were only a few people at the palace who could belay that order. Adam entered casually, as if he wasn't interrupting a conversation that would decide the fate of every man and woman in the kingdom.

"Father?" he said. Randor must not have heard his son enter. He looked up now, as if seeing a ghost. Perhaps he too had been remembering a time before children. Adam nodded familiarly towards Man-at-Arms. "I heard you were here and I heard about the messengers, though no one seems to know what they told you."

The king went to his son, hugging him close for a little longer than normal. "This meeting is not for your ears, my son. Its near midday. You should be at your lessons."

"I skipped my lessons today, father."

"What? Why? I have told you many times, if you are to rule, you must have the education that I was denied."

Adam had often argued that if his father didn't need to study, then he didn't need to study. He thought of Randor as a great king. "I am doing better with my lessons, but I wanted to be part of this. This is what being a king is really about."

Randor considered his son. He glanced at Man-at-Arms and was surprised to see him shrug. Usually, Man-at-Arms tried to keep Adam far from the military table. He never suspected how torn Man-at-Arms felt seeing the prince walk into the room. Talking to king came first in light of the messengers, but he knew he couldn't put off talking to Adam any more than that.

"You may stay," the king said. Adam took a seat at the table, staring up at the map, all but ignoring the men standing behind him. The king pointed to the section of the wall framed by the glowing map. "The wall has fallen."

Man-at-Arms studied the boy's reaction. Was he worthy? Would he spring to action now. Nothing. The boy looked like he might yawn. "The wall has fallen," Randor repeated. "We believe that is the reason for the recent attacks."

"Will you send a team of masons to fix it?" he asked.

Randor chided the boy, "You know enough of history to know that the wall is not a thing of stone. The stone was always just an anchor for the spells cast upon it."

"So we cast the spell again. Can't we afford it?" Adam awkwardly twisted his neck so that he could see their faces over his shoulder.

Man-at-Arms fought to keep his voice calm. "The spell can never be cast again. The power to do it is lost to us. To try again wouldn't just separate our hemispheres, but potentially break the world." Adam looked like he was thinking about it, but not like he understood. This level of magic far exceeded anything he'd encountered in his studies.

"We were just deciding what must be done," Randor announced. "Man-at-Arms, unless you have some other idea, I believe we must start by securing the broken portion of the wall. I realize that it no longer holds its power, but a wall twenty men high will still do much to slow the enemy's advance. So, maybe Adam's idea of sending a few masons and an engineer is a good one. We can send a company to hold the wall and a squad of specialist to take a look at what's on the other side."

Man-at-Arms grumbled. "We can discuss the idea of using resources to reconstruct the broken wall, your majesty. Now that the wall has been broken once, I fear the enemy will find it easier to break again and again until little remains. But securing this first break and the breaks that follow will be important. At least we must know where they are coming from." He stepped to the side so that he could get a better look at the prince as he talked. He wanted to gauge the boy's reaction. "Sending in a squad is a dangerous proposition."

"How else can we be sure of what we both suspect but have not had the courage to name?" said the king.

Man-at-Arms nodded. "I know. I just feel like we may be sending men to die. The enemy will anticipate our curiosity."

"It will be that dangerous?" asked the prince.

Man-at-Arms nodded. Would Adam ask to be part of it? Had he misjudged the boy's character? Was their some courage in his thin frame just now ready to reveal itself? The king crossed his arms.

"You should send Mekaneck. He's the best."

"That is a good recommendation, Adam," the king said. "But we will miss him here."

"Mekaneck had no casualties in the last battle. No matter how dangerous it is, he can handle it."

The boy was living in a world of childhood heroes, Man-at-Arms thought. He didn't yet know that men could die, even when you loved them and they seemed invincible.

"Besides," added Adam, "Teela always wants to be on the front line."

Man-at-Arms stomach dropped. He had taken blows to the head that felt the same. "Absolutely not, you welp," he cursed.

"Duncan," interrupted the king.

Man-at-Arms continued, "Why do you want to send my daughter into this? It's too dangerous. You presume too much, prince. You don't understand the stakes and your thoughts on the matter are not welcome here."

"Duncan," said the king again. "Calm down. He is young. Of course we will not send Teela. He just meant that Teela was part of Mekaneck's team. I'm sure when he thinks about it, he will understand that Teela cannot go."

Adam pushed himself away from the table. "I will not understand," he said. Teela has worked hard to be part of a moment like this. Something like this could change the way people treat her."

This time, the king stopped him, placing a heavy hand on the boy's head. "Adam, enough. You are dismissed."

"But, father!"

"Go, now." He delivered the order in the voice of the king, and Adam obeyed.

As the prince disappeared behind the door, the king apologized. "Children?" he said, as if offering the word as a question to the gods. "Teela will not be sent," he assured Man-at-Arms. "Go and prepare to send a team. We will send one engineer to assess the damage. But I do think Adam was right about Mekaneck's squad. If anyone can get out with the information we need, he's the man."

"Perhaps," Man-at-Arms conceded.

"Very well then," said Randor. "We will meet at dinner and discuss the matter. Have the team ready to leave at first light."

Randor exited the room through a side door that led to his private chamber. Man-at-Arms watched him go. He knew that if he asked Mekaneck to go, Teela would insist that she be allowed to join him. They were officially part of the same squad. Adam was costing him quite a bit of trouble. He asked the guards which way the prince had gone and followed after the boy. It was time they had words.

The soldier easily found the prince. He was heading towards the gardens where, no doubt, he would meet with his useless cat companion, Cringer. Cringer was nothing like the great beasts of Miro's house. He was undersized and and nothing good could be said of his loyalty. he was more likely to be found where the food was free than where Adam needed him. On second thought, Man-at-Arms considered, they were perfect for each other.

Adam stopped on the bridge that crossed the creek which was used to provide water for the gardens. The prince looked out at the rising moons, one still touching the horizon. He gazed so wistfully and held his body so casually that Man-at-Arms couldn't help but compare the prince to his daughter. She would have already noticed him following her. She wouldn't have so slowly walked to the gardens in the first place. She didn't even give herself time to relax in the gardens. For Teela, there was always more training and constant readiness. And yet, this boy was to save them all. Man-at-Arms couldn't help but feel that the Sorceress had made some terrible mistake, a mistake that would damn them all.

He drew his weapon. He would have to show her.

It took him three steps to cover the distance to the prince and an instant to bring his mace down on the rail less than a finger's width from where Adam rested his elbow. By the time Adam had leaped away and shouted his surprise, the mace had already been holstered.

"What happened?" Adam screamed, looking at the bridge as if he expected to find that Man-at-Arms had smashed some small skulking creature about to spring. "You really startled me. You should warn a fellow."

Man-at-Arms sneered. "That was precisely the point. You are too easily surprised and completely unaware of your surroundings. You are a danger to yourself and to anyone who follows you."

Despite the confrontation, Adam looked totally relaxed again. He knew nothing of fear. "What are you talking about? I have you and the other guardsmen to protect me. I know enough about fighting."

"A leader must lead by example."

"I'm not a leader; my father is. And he will be for a long time."

"Do you not see the armies marching against our walls? Are you so blinded to history that you think these walls unbreakable? The walls were built by men. Men can break them. Your father is a man. Men die."

"Leave me alone, Man-at-Arms. I'm trying to do better. I asked to train with Teela, but father wouldn't allow it."

"You asked to train?" Man-at-Arms had a hard time picturing Adam on the proving grounds. The prince didn't answer his questions.

"Now leave me alone. I won't tell my father about this."

Man-at-Arms was infuriated all over again. "Won't tell your father? You should tell your father. It's about time he learned the kind of man he's raised. Teela is worth two of you."

Adam was visibly hurt. Man-at-Arms suspected he was on the verge of tears; it did nothing to assuage his anger. "Why are you doing this?" Adam choked.

"You think sending Teela to the wall is the best way to help the kingdom win this war?"

"I think it's what Teela wants and if you weren't so busy ignoring her you would know that." There were still tears lurking behind Adam's mask of self-righteousness, but Man-at-Arms didn't think he would cry now.

"You know nothing, young prince." The Sorceress was wrong. Man-at-Arms was sure of it now. He would send her Teela whether she liked it or not. He turned on his heel and started back to the palace leaving Adam standing dumbly. He would have left the prince there if not for a blast and rumble that shook the ground. He stood his ground against the blast, but not against the furious voice in his mind.

"Duncan, you must send the boy. There can be no more delay. We may already be too late."

Man-at-Arms spoke through gritted teeth, sure that the Sorceress could hear him across the distance. "You will take my daughter. She will be saved the soldier's fate."

The voice came again, softer this time. "Is that what this is about, my love? Duncan, I would not wish Adam's fate on anyone, especially Teela. But it is his."

Understanding slowly dawned on Man-at-Arms. He had always imagined the Sorceress' plans leading to her chosen one's glory. He had forgotten the brutal cost such a path must take. He pushed away a guardsman who was helping him to his feet. The messenger delivered his grave news, "The wall is breached. They came out of nowhere."

"Go," Man-at-Arms told him. "There is a plan in place. Follow your orders." He pushed the young guardsman away then turned back to the bridge to find Adam.

The prince had hardly moved, but had been joined by his timid cat. "Your majesty, forgive me." Adam's face was full of dazed confusion. "You must go to Castle Grayskull-alone and as fast as you can."

"Man-at-Arms, nothing you've said makes sense tonight. Has the battle shaken you so badly that you can no longer serve?"

Man-at-Arms grabbed the boy's collar. "No. No, your majesty. I have made mistakes of pride, but you must listen. Go to Grayskull."

Adam pushed him away. "I will not speak to my father or your daughter of your behavior tonight. You do not need to get rid of me. Now do your duty, guardsman. The battle is not at Castle Grayskull; it is here." Adam ran past him to the palace.

The scope of Man-at-Arms' failure opened like a volcanic gash.


	4. 4 Teela at Arms

Teela at Arms

People swore they saw them burst from the ground. The rock of the wall split, then leapt into the air, before finally raining down on the heads and houses of the people that had once nestled safely in its shadow. Even before the rocks stopped falling, the enemy was upon them, slashing with sword and nails and biting with teeth all made from bone. So many died without even the understanding of what was happening to them. The people ran. Guardsmen that resisted without their units' support were drowned in the flood of bone and blood.

The bone warriors had reached the inner wall before the first defense was mounted.

Teela grabbed three palace guards and sent them to gather men from the other side of the city. She didn't wait for them to protest, and so they obeyed with some reservation. Teela didn't want to find out later that dozens of men on the far side of the palace hadn't even known about the fighting, though she doubted anyone hadn't felt the explosion. When she reached the nearly empty command center, she sent a fourth guardsman to find her father. Men saw he wasn't there and then ran to their station. But no pre-planned strategy could have prepared them for a complete failure of the outer wall. She told anyone else that stopped, to stay. It was too few; she sent several to scour the city for men and women with the strength to fight back. Where was her father?

She placed a weapon in the hands of anyone who asked and told him or her to keep it pointed down until the command center was nearly full. She stood on a chair, fixed the loose strands of her hair, and looked at the people waiting expectantly around her. Teela was surprised by many had come and stayed, but it was still not nearly enough. She had to look like she was calm, she reminded herself. "You have been out there. I don't need to tell you how bad it is-how grave our situation. But we can fight back."

"Where is Man-at-Arms?" someone shouted. An older man, but not a guardsman, she was thankful to see. If the guardsmen turned against her, she would lose the tenuous hold she had on this group. And then what? She truly believed she knew what had to be done.

Teela scanned the room as the crowd whispered and then hushed. "We don't know where my father is. If he could be here, then he would be here. Worrying about anything else is a waste of precious time.. There is plenty of worry waiting for us outside of this room. I have trained, I have fought, and I have been by my father's side during his planning." She drew herself up, determined not to look anxious, suddenly self-conscious in her training attire, little more than a leotard. "If you follow me, we can prevent more of our people from dying."

"I will follow you," a man said. She was pleased to see it was a guardsman, a man from her squad. That was what the people needed to hear, and truthfully, she knew that she had needed to hear it too. More voices agreed. No one dissented.

"Alright," she said, relieved and more eager than anxious to start fighting back. "I'll need two groups. The first, and largest group will move through the city to the wall, secure it, and prevent more of the enemy from getting through. Pick up any guardsmen to join you as you go, but don't take volunteers. Anyone you find that can fight should stay behind to protect the homes and families from the enemy already inside. The second group will go to the palace to make sure none of the monsters get that far; it is clearly their aim." She established a leader for the palace squad, but made herself leader of the group that would defend the wall. Two guardsmen were left behind to protect the command center and direct anybody else that was ready to join the battle.

Outside, it was clear that people had already started fighting back. The dead lay on every street along with the dust of the enemy. Several buildings were on fire. In the distance, there was a constant screaming criss-crossing through the city. Initially, they ran into just a few of the beasts. Teela led a charge, cutting under one and then turning to take another from behind. "Form a wedge with me at the point," she said. The guardsmen among them quickly helped form the group. "If we get surrounded, stay where you are. We need to keep this formation."

One of the guardsman pointed. "There's people stuck on that roof," he said. It was just a house, a family on the roof, clearly trying to prevent the creatures from getting up to them."

Teela shook her head. "They're better off than most. We won't be able to stop for anyone. We have to get to the wall."

They moved quickly, not quite running, cautiously preparing for the imminent attack. And so, when it came, they were ready. As they turned a corner, a platoon of the things turned and attacked. "Stay in formation," Teela commanded, relying on the guardsmen in the group to help enforce the order. The monsters came as one body, without formation or plan, but brutal nonetheless. Teela took out the first of them, but was soon overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. They had no fear of death or injury, exploding to dust even as another pushed from behind. Teela dropped to her back and pushed away, trying to wiggle between the boots of someone behind her. As if shot from a spring she was back on her feet, bringing another of the things to its dusty end. But her position at the front of the wedge had been lost. Her entire group was engaged, swinging mace and sword and pike. Teela ducked between them, striking at anything in range between the bodies of her comrades. To the men and women that had volunteered to follow her, she appeared to be everywhere at once. Some of them fell. One would lose an arm and another would never again walk without assistance. But none of them died in that first skirmish.

When the battle was done, they looked on her with pride in both their leader and in what she had inspired in themselves. "You're not even wounded," one of the men gasped. She looked down at her body, more exposed then she would have liked, but not a scratch on it. The lack of armor had given her a speed she lost in most of the fighting she did with her squad.

"This was a skirmish," she reminded them. "If you can't keep fighting, find safety. The rest of us must continue to the wall." Without a glance back at them, she started back to the wall. The less wounded helped the more wounded into a house and barricaded its door. The rest found themselves within sight of the wall before the next enemy attacked. Again, they were confronted by a group of the bone warriors, but this time, it was led by a creature made of flesh and scale, a lizard thing from deep underground that students were told had once existed when Eternia was young. The lizard thing commanded the bone warriors to attack with a grunt and a jab of a heavy spear. Teela examined the thing, pointing her sword at it, calling it to her. It was her height, but nearly as wide at the shoulders as it was tall. Though it only wore a leather loincloth, its scales looked thick and were layered like the best armor she had seen. She wondered if she even possessed a weapon that could harm the thing.

It saw her, whipping a giant tail back and forth across the ground. It was armored, far stronger than she, and better armed. Teela knew she would lose, but was determined to slow the thing until her people could escape or gather reinforcements. "Come on, then!" she screamed.

The bone warriors seemed to understand their leaders intention, all but ignoring Teela as the separated and engaged her team. The lizard creature, Whiplash, hissed and moved slowly towards its prey. He shook his spear, drawing Teela's eye even as he growled and brought his tail around, expecting to end the fight quickly with a mortal blow of his powerful tail. Whether instinct or devoted training, Teela leapt above the tail, just grazing it with the bottom of her foot. It made her landing hard, but she rolled and sprung to her feet bringing up her sword to deflect the spear coming for her throat. The spear slid just past her ear, but Teela's effort twisted the blade out of her hand. Weaponless, hurt, and exhausted Teela looked for an opening. She tried to move closer so that Whiplash would have a harder time bringing his tail and spear to bear. His empty hand and tail wrapped around her, and Teela realized that her best strikes were hurting her worst than him. soon she would be crushed against Whiplash's body. It was a revolting way to die, hardly worthy of a warrior, and she was determined to keep fighting until her breath was gone. She tried to attack her enemy's eyes and face since most of his armor seemed to be on his chest. To her surprise, he suddenly seemed to tense up and then go limp, almost dropping his spear.

Teela dropped to the ground, rolled to her sword, and was back on her feet striking Whiplash's face again in one swift movement. Her blade left a gash across his nose that would never heal. His roar was full of pain and rage. His tail jutted out again, forcing Teela back. She saw a flash of light behind him. Now she understood how she had escaped his crushing grip. Someone was firing a blaster at him. His tail seemed paralyzed for a moment by the painful blaster fire. She sliced at its barbed tip, cutting it clean away from his thrashing tail.

Whiplash roared again, knocked her back with another swing of his spear and ran. Another shot from the blaster struck his shoulder, but didn't even slow him down. Teela saw Mekaneck firing from the corner before she turned to help her group finish the remaining bone warriors. This time, three had died to end the skirmish, and the fighting was still unfinished.

They looked up at her with awe and expectancy. The lizard creature had disappeared from view altogether and Mekaneck was joining them, his clean blue and red armor a sharp contrast to their own tattered appearance. Mekaneck looked them up and down, his mouth a tight line under his specialized goggles. "Where's Man-at-Arms?"

Teela took a deep breath. "We can't worry about that right now. We have to secure the wall." She swallowed her pride and waited for her squad commander's order.

Mekaneck didn't hesitate. "Alright," he said. "You're in charge. That brute you stopped seemed to be their leader. Without him around, we might just have a chance. I'll take the rear of your wedge. I've got a working blaster and my mace." He paused for just a moment, pleased to see that Teela appeared to be neither anxious or gloating, then went to take his position.

Teela gave the group a moment to drink and help the wounded into abandoned houses. Renewed again by their leader's valor, they marched to the wall. Teela didn't realize how much she had inspired them. She couldn't believe that they had survived as long as they had, and was just as proud of them as they were of her. A few days ago, half of them had been citizens that had never held a weapon. Her group had doubled in size since leaving the command center with guardsmen and citizen both joining the fight. She started to think they had a chance. "Stay in formation," she said. Then with a guttural yell, "To the wall!"

They moved quickly, meeting small groups of the invaders as they went and easily dispatching them. The houses here were nearly all burned, they're missing walls looked like gaping wounds. Teela was not surprised to see that the seemingly mindless bone warriors were waiting for them, holding the wall against just what she was trying to do. "Mekaneck?" she yelled.

"I see no long range weapons among them. Actually, they're not even moving."

"Then let's not give them the chance to start. Move!" she screamed, breaking into a run.

"Charge them! Break them!"

She could hear the pounding of their footprints behind her, encouraging her forward. Still, the bone warriors didn't seem to move. Now they were within Mekaneck's blaster range, but he didn't fire. Now they were within throwing range and she suspected a trap, but nothing about their enemy had ever suggested a capability for subterfuge. They were nearly within striking range when the bone monsters just disappeared, dissolving into dust as if they had been struck by a mighty blow from above. Teela stopped her force amidst the wreckage of the wall, and the dust of her enemy, suddenly unsure of herself. Then, just a few steps away, she saw the flash of the setting sun across a spiked helmet and a horrifying metal steel smile. Its body was blue and orange and one of its arms was grossly oversized and made of the same metal as its hideous head.

Casually, the creature waved at them. It moved awkwardly, jerking its arm up and then dropping it. Teela started towards it, sword at the ready. Her team followed. "No," she told them. "Stay with Mekaneck. I will test him. We have to know what this thing is-what it can do."

She ignored their protest, didn't even respond. She moved closer. Was it a man in a suit? Some monstrous automation? It didn't move. It didn't goad her at all. Then, as she reached striking range, it held up its smaller hand and said, "Hold." Its voice sounded like dragged metal. She stopped, wondering herself why she obeyed the thing. Her curiosity got the better of her. Would this thing reveal the secret of their hidden enemy? "Run past me. Leave them to die. You are strong. Maybe you will live a long time out there while your friends bleed."

Teela shook her head, reminded herself to stay light on her feet, not to let his conversation convince her she was safe. "I don't think so," she told it. "No one here will be running away. These are your creatures? For what you've done, you will join them in their dust."

"Dust," it said, its voice sounded like the echo of a voice far away. "Dust. Dust. Dust," it repeated. And as it did, the dust reformed, and the bone warriors rose again all around her and her team.

Teela cursed herself for waiting to strike. She wouldn't pause again. Her sword flashed in, a blow meant to kill, but the thing's massive arm jerked upwards, easily swatting aside her attack. She spun, aiming for its feet, and was surprised to see her enemy jerk into the air over her swipe, its fist coming down on her, then slamming into the ground with a force that shook the earth around her and left a dent big enough for a man to lay in. Teela landed a blow on the thing's head as it recovered, not surprised to see her blade bounce off the metal plating on its head. They were both upright again, staring each other down, the sound of battle all around them. Teela's opponent's eyes flashed, and several nearby bone warriors turned silently towards her, their claws raised dangerously.

Teela turned one to dust with the swipe of her sword. "These things are your doing then?" she said, daring to hope that she might at least crawl away and deliver a few of the answers.

It smiled. "What you face is so dark it will be other-worldly to you. These common people will say their dread comes from some other twisted dimension. But real horror always come from the same place: home." Not waiting for Teela to process what it had said, it hurled its fist at her, literally extending its arm the length of a hurled spear. Teela barely moved aside, striking the arm twice, but doing no harm. A bone warrior attacked from the other side. Her only choice was to drop and roll, under the arm and away from the slashing, angry creature. Her enemy brought its fist down like a hammer again and again, forcing her to roll again and again. By the time she rolled up and back, she was more than ten steps removed from her foe. The bone warriors came in, hands slashing like deadly knives. Teela's sword to their hands, but they kept coming, teeth clacking. She finished them one by one, only to have the strong, metal hand close around her arm and hold her with a force she didn't think possible. She twisted and pulled, slashed with her sword, and spat her frustration. The arm didn't move and so, neither did she. As the bone warriors closed in, she imagined the hundreds of others who had died at their hands. First, came the fear, crushing and sad. Then, an anger so great that it seemed to imbue her with a power she had never known. Her eyes seemed as sharp as a falcon's and her hand guided by the will of the ancients. Her sword flew in a fit of rage sharpened by training and fate. It embedded itself in her foe's chest to the hilt. Its eyes flashed once, then became something darker than their lack of light. Astonished, Teela watched the bone warriors fall all around her, returning to the dust.

The field was nearly dark, the sun just setting, bathing everything in pink and purple. Nothing living still stood near her. Every tree and house had burned. She could see the shells of guardsman armor and the dead of people who had woken up this morning thinking the wall was keeping them safe. In the distance, Teela saw (had she really moved so far away from them?) what remained of her group. Most of the guardsmen had survived. The rest… She waved her free arm, the other still caught in the enemy's massive metal hand. Teela saw Mekaneck's neck lift, a clear sign that he was watching her closely. They came running towards her all at once. She was determined not to be crying when they reached her. Because this was what victory felt like.


End file.

He-Man