Another inspiring illustration from the supremely talented hands of thepolishgirl
thepolishgirl.deviantart.com

Under the Shade

“Where were you? I mean – where were you?”  

She was already on the offensive before she had half covered the grassy sward which lay between them – and hearing the tone of her voice, seeing the set of her face, made Adam shrink yet deeper into himself.

No; not now; please not now –

If only he could be alone awhile it might yet be well –

But it was too late; Teela’s swift and uncompromising stride had carried her to him and now he rose, as courtesy dictated, and stood awkwardly before her with bowed shoulders and unhappy expression. The leaves on the tree above him seemed to whisper in subtle mockery.

“Well? Nothing to say? Not a word of explanation as to why I was left standing there, waiting for you for well nigh an hour – and you never came? Nor yet sent any word? No reason you can give me as to why I had to smile my way through the reception for the ambassadors all by myself? About why I had to endure three of them leering at me and making eyes and – suggestions?”

Adam stared at her – but said not a word; he appeared dumbstruck – and haggard, too – but Teela was too high-flown to notice – or care.

“I spent the whole wretched evening waiting for you to show – and you never did. In the end I left when I decently could and went to find my father – and he made some rambling excuse for you, about how you’d been ‘called away’ on an ‘urgent matter’ at the last minute. But, you know, Adam? You could have told me that yourself – or sent word – or – anything. But instead you left me high and dry for hours making stilted conversation with a bunch of lecherous old men with bad breath! If you had just seen them – And I’d care less – a little less – if this weren’t the third time this month that you’ve vanished and left me to fend for myself at some dreadful social function! If it’s your twisted idea of a practical joke then I must tell you; it’s not at all funny!

“Teela, I –”

“And there’s also the small matter of your personal safety, isn’t there? Do I need to remind your highness yet again that I am responsible for it? Well? Do I? I am your appointed bodyguard – and it’s more than marginally difficult to guard a body when you have no idea where said body is about half the blasted time!”

Adam stared at her, utterly unequal to the usual task of fending off her accusations, making excuses, telling white lies that, somehow, seemed less and less white as the burden of them mounted and grew the weightier. He looked at her fierce green eyes and the play of the light through the leaves on her face – and his already overwrought heart swelled huge within him. If only he could – But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. It was without hope; like so much else: a lost and yearning wish that could never find a home. Her bitterness was no more, in truth, than he deserved: but yet how could he have done any differently and still stayed true to his high duty to Grayskull and the Power? And now he was so tired; so utterly, achingly weary that he could not even concentrate on what she was saying to him. Even as her angry voice listed his sins his mind was slipping back to the horrific events which had filled his night – and rendered it hideous.

He recalled the ride out to the swamp where the thing's ill-omened presence had been reported, the reassuring warmth and strength of Cat beneath him as they came to that dismal and forsaken place with its low and wreathing mists – and stench of old decay.

Exercize great caution, He-Man, had come the voice of the Sorceress in his mind. I do not recognize this thing; only that it is ancient – and malign – and that it has no place here. I do not know how it has broken through from the dark realm where such things roam, but it has both a thinking mind – and vast strength. Do not underestimate it, I warn you! So proceed with due care. And may the Elders be with you!

May the Elders be with him indeed. He had dismounted – and bidden Cat to keep his distance; this was not likely to be that kind of fight. All the same, he was glad not to be altogether alone in that place, for it had an air of menace which tingled over his skin – and set his mind on edge. In deference to this feeling – and to the advice of the Lady, he made a slow and cautious approach, his head constantly turning from side to side as he advanced slowly through the rank and rotting plants which fringed the dark waters of the swamp. The mephitic odor was well-nigh overwhelming – and he had a strong suspicion that it did not all come from the decaying foliage. And there was a terrible, listening stillness; not a bird sang; not a creature rustled; it seemed that the terror of this – thing – had driven all life far away. Water rippled – loud in the hush and he turned at once – But only a few rings ran ebbing over the dark surface. With a grim expression he reached behind him – and slowly, quietly, eased the Sword from its sheath.

As ever the feel of it in his hand was a reassurance, an earnest of its power – and of the greater Power from whence it was derived. He looked down at the blade, dull in the dim murk of that place. And at that instant he was swept from his feet and – without pause, wrenched by the ankles and dragged at speed through the hissing, yielding reeds towards the water – He reached rapidly out and seized hold of the broken black stump of a tree – and held – and held. And as he steadied, his body stretched painfully between his anchor and the powerful drag at his heels – he saw that a thick, tapering tentacle had him about both ankles and was pulling with a hideous strength. It was colorless – perhaps translucent, for it glowed from within with a sickly phosphorescent light like an emanation of decay. He tightened his hold and raised the sword to stab – but at that moment the tree, rotten to the core – tore from the besodden earth – and he was dragged again towards the water. It was only by the exercize of a skill surpassing that of any warrior unaided that he was able to strike his blow – just as the water opened before him. It gained him an instant’s grace – but even as he rose to his feet and drew breath the water boiled and became alive with a dozen or more of like kind, snaking through the air at speed in search of him – their prey.

Once, twice, thrice the Sword swept its steely path and sheered the air – and, striking, sliced the ends from the reaching limbs. The dark water surged and boiled and the shorn appendages vanished below the surface – but more came writhing and their speed and strength was horrible to behold. They twisted and turned in vile display, each glowing with that foul cadaverine light – and they sought him. Again the Sword arced and swept, hacking, slicing, sending showers of stinking, colorless ichor to fall like rotten rain. But still they came – and one coiled about his left arm and wrapped itself tight – and he could not break off the swordplay to stab it. And, with a gripping strength, it pulled – and pulled – so that he was unbalanced and only with great difficulty kept his feet. The whirling blade sent limb after limb truncated away – but always there came more – and always he was sliding ever closer to the water, his feet slithering in the foul-smelling mud. Sweat coated him, ran into his eyes – and the drops of the beast’s blood – if such it was – stung and burned his skin. Further tentacles came darting, diving to entangle his legs; he hacked them off two at a time – but could not free his arm – and then one, thicker than the rest snaked and twisted – and coiled itself about his waist – once and twice – and again!

He gasped in dread and pain as its strength – and the foulness of its stench – almost overcame him. The chill clamminess of it, the corpselike touch against his skin was in itself a torment. But still he fought; the Sword did not once let up in its striking, its sweeping, its reaping of these ears of an unclean harvest. Yet the squeeze about his waist was steadily crushing him; the coils, each thick as his thigh, circled his chest; his ribs were held in an ever tightening vice, his left arm had lost all feeling – and he was scant of breath and tiring. And still the monstrous things came rising from the lake to subdue him. And then he was lifted, hoisted clean from his feet and held up high in the air, his legs kicking out at them as they tried to seize hold, the Sword still striking and lopping the vile and writhing limbs. Fighting still He-Man was lofted yet higher – and then pulled with a hurtling plunge into the water.

Darkness and confusion roiled about him, the thick and bubbling brew of the swamp water – and the pressure of it pressed and the tentacle tight about him squeezed – and he felt his senses slipping as he knew the onset of fear. He could not free himself – he could not! All his strength would not avail to break free: and though his lungs would outlast any other mortal, yet they would at length fail – and he would drown, alone in this inky, viscous swamp. But it seemed that the creature did not mean for him to drown, or else it judged that he already had, for still it drew him down, down into the lightless deeps below. And then he saw it – lit in its own putrid glow – and his eyes widened in horror at the sight. What manner of monstrous being was this, with its gaping, pulsing maw, its waving tangle of limbs and single, balefully-glowing eye set in a shapeless dome which might be or head or body – or both? What nameless region of the nether hells had spawned this thing of darkness – and let it loose to prey upon the world? There was but little time to dwell upon it; the lidless, pale-lit eye was upon him – intent – and the loose, toothless mouth gaped wide to receive its prey; if he did not overcome his fear, his horror and loathing, then this thing would devour him whole!

Swiftly, rushing through the bubbling water, it drew him in – and He-Man took a yet tighter grip upon the haft of the Sword. There would be but one chance to strike – and then he must strike true or lose all. And his breath was all but gone and with it the last of his strength.

Lady – be with me; Elders, aid your champion and guide well his arm! If die I must, then let it not be in fear –!

Wider yawned the unspeakable maw, the eye’s inky pupil glared, the whole creature heaved and pulsated – and its fan of flowing limbs seemed to wave in triumph. And it did not hesitate but drew him in to sustain its demand for life to quell – and to appease its own darkness. Even as it did so the intended victim’s legs braced wide – and held against the hideous, quivering lips of that famished mouth. He knew from the burning rain of the creature's ichor he had shed that to enter that gaping hole would mean the dreadful death of being dissolved in acid - and he resisted with every last remaining thew. Baulked a moment the creature put forth its strength to overcome this futile resistance; but a moment more need it wait – Yet much may happen in a little time, for in that while the hero’s one free arm drew back and, with an effort close to final despair, plunged the Sword of Power deep within the staring eye.

The water exploded with a soundless agony; the creature seemed to shrink, to contract within itself – and then it blew outwards with a terrific force that tore water, air – the fabric of the very world – and hurled them all away in a final act of negation. And He-Man, helpless and barely with breath, was flung with tremendous force upwards – and came breaching from the water and shotted the resistless air to arc on high – and tilt – and fall.

But to earth he fell – and not to water. And the water boiled once more – and subsided and, in time the ripples stilled – and the lake lay still and silent; and beside it, the hero lay as silent – and as still.

And it was no easy awakening – for he was deep in swoon when sensation returned, and with it the wracking pain and the weariness – and the unmistakably rough touch of a feline tongue licking his face –

With a slow, unsteady motion Adam passed his hand over his face, fighting off the dizziness and nausea which threatened to overwhelm his oppressed senses. A voice was speaking to him – at him – hectoring him, making demands – when all he wanted to do was to be alone, to sleep –

“I don’t believe you’ve listened to a word I’ve said to you! Not a word! You are the limit, you are, Adam Randorson – the frozen limit! First you stand me up, and then you can’t even bring yourself to make a decent apology – and now you haven’t the grace even to listen to me when I tell you a few home truths! Well – I tell you this now; prince or no prince – from now on you –” In her anger her hand reached out and gave his chest a forceful push – and, without a word, with his eyes dull upon her – Adam keeled over – and fell hard to the grass.

For a long moment Teela stared down at his unmoving form.

“Adam –? Adam! Look, if this is another one of your jests, I’m in no mood –”

She bit off her words – and her heart came rising and blocked her throat. Ancients – what have I done –? Adam –

She knelt hastily at his side; training took over from thought and saved her from further error. She loosened his collar and jerkin and arranged his slack limbs properly and checked both pulse and breathing. Then, somewhat reassured, she looked closely at his still, pale face. His eyes were deep-sunken with weariness – almost bruised looking; and surely those were bruises on his cheekbone and on his throat? Not only that but there was a faint spotting like – well – tiny red burns – on his face and brow – and it was very much more pronounced on his hands. But how could that be? Where had he been last night? No tryst with some girl in the city could leave him looking like this – or in a state whereby a simple push would cause him to collapse. With a furrow of thought set deep between her red brows Teela stared down at her prince. In this state of limp exhaustion, hiding nothing, his face open to be read, he seemed – different, somehow. Older, perhaps, like the man he would one day grow into. Yes – But there was more than that. He looked – like someone else; someone she knew well; and it wasn’t his father King Randor, no. Someone who was – older than Adam, at least a little – more mature – possibly larger; yes – larger and – and – Teela rocked back on her heels, frowning hard – no! But that was – no! He couldn’t – possibly – And a shrill mew sounded over her head – and a rushing of air – and a hawk flew in under the boughs of the tree, passing so close over her head that she felt the wind of its wings. She gasped and fell back – and her eyes followed it up into the blue vault on high and she stared – and stared – and –

– And Adam was awakening from his swoon and he groaned and shifted and she looked down – and was nothing now but concern for him. For the hawk’s passing had borne all other thought and memory away.

“Lie still –”

“No – no. I just – fainted. I think.”

“And didn’t you! I was so worried –”

He looked up at her, and his lips parted – and then he frowned slightly. “Give – give me a hand up, will you?”

“Well – if you insist. But only if you agree to sit awhile and rest.”

“I shall be – fine – in a moment or two. Truly –”

“You really don’t look well at all,” she said, helping to raise him and steer him to the same seat under the shade of the many-leaved tree. “You’re whiter than your shirt.”

“I’m just – a little – tired.”

“I can see that for myself. Shall I fetch one of the healers? It would only take –”

“No! I mean – no. No; that – won’t be necessary.”

He heaved a sigh and his head fell, looking down at his boots.

There was a long and heavy silence. Into it Teela spoke.

“I – worry about you –” she admitted in a low voice. “And times like this give me cause.”

“I know,” he said quietly, without looking up.

“I just wish that you would tell me, Adam; be honest with me. I know it won’t be anything bad. I trust you; at least I think that I do; I’m not always sure.”

“No; nor am I.”

“But these – disappearances. And the state you return in, sometimes – What am I supposed to think?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“And I don’t want to quarrel with you; truly I don’t. But we used to be such friends – and we shared so much. And now –”

“Don’t –” he said in a thread of a voice. “Don’t.”

She looked down at him, the bowed head, the slumped shoulders, the attitude of limp dejection that seemed altogether too close to despair.

“Can – can I help – at all? You know I would if I could.”

His voice seemed strangled, somehow, not like itself – and he still looked only at the ground and not at her.

“I know – I do. And I’m grateful. But you can’t. It’s mine to bear – and mine alone.”

“What? I didn’t hear you properly – Did you say –?”

“It – doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

As another silence dragged its crippled way across the minutes she sighed.

“Shall I leave you?”

“Yes –”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“You are sure about that? You still don’t look well enough to be left alone to me.”

“I’m just – tired. I’ll be fine.” He looked briefly up at her and gave a ghastly smile – and looked swiftly away. But not so swiftly that Teela had not seen the tracks of his tears.

“Right. Then I’ll go.”

But she made no move. Nor did he. The shade of the tree fell over them both; the sun was at its height and soon the bells of Palace and city would chime the noontide hour.

And Teela looked down at him and her heart was moved to pity; and possibly something more. His woe moved her, won her in a way which no defense of his could ever have done. And – this time – he had offered none; no excuse, no mitigation – nothing. He seemed utterly worn – and defeated. There was no fight in him any more. She shook her head slightly; when they had been younger they had been forever fighting – and then hugging one another to make up. Now they no longer fought: and no longer – Well; they were older now – and matters were different. No longer were they children and innocent. And everything was just so much more complicated –

The blond head still hung low; he had not moved, was lost in himself, was indifferent to her presence. She really should go. But still she stayed. All her resentment and aggrieved anger, all her seething rage – it all came down to this: she stood watching him; he sunk in a grief she could not share. He had no need of her. Not any more. He was heir to the throne; a prince; one day to rule this land. And she –? She had no claim to make on him – none that counted or mattered. None. It was time to move, to be gone from this place where she was nor needed nor wanted. All logic, all sense told her to turn and walk quietly away without turning back; everything dictated such a sensible course of action. There would be no sense whatsoever in reaching out and stroking his hair.

But that is exactly what she did.

And no sooner had she touched than his arm shot out and circled her waist and drew her to him with a surprising strength – and held her there. And there they remained, close and unspeaking, communicating only those things which words can never well express – for there are no words.

And the tree spread its unknowing branches and the shade fell over them both: just a little out of the full light of the sun.