The portal began to form in Grayskull as the Sorceress, Greystar, Weldon, and Montork all gathered around it. “Okay, let’s see if I remember what keys to push on this contraption,” Weldon muttered as he fidgeted with the cosmic key. “Wish people would remember I’m a warrior and not a musician.” His fingers danced across the device, and it began to twirl and hum. The gateway widened, but still fluctuated.

“We have to get it stable from this side,” Greystar said. He looked around, and spotted Celise. The singer had returned to the castle with them after her rescue from Skeletor; at the time, Greystar had suggested it for her safety. Now he was glad she came on a second count, realizing her powers were needed. “Celise, can you match the tones the key is putting out?”

She listened for a moment. “Yes, I think so,” she finally replied, stepping over to join them. She began to sing, her voice melding perfectly with the notes from the key. The portal shook slightly, then began pulsating in a regular rhythm.

“I think that’s about as good as it’s going to get. Sorceress, let’s bring them through.” Greystar stepped back, leaving a clear path for anyone emerging from the doorway.

The Sorceress told Dree-Elle to have the others start through, then to follow as she closed the other side of the portal. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the gateway started to tremble and groan, and She-Ra came leaping through, barely keeping her balance as she landed. She quickly moved aside as Spinerella, Swift Wind, Frosta and Fisto followed, the last two tumbling over each other as they were roughly expelled by the gate. The portal began to waver just as Dree-Elle shot through.

“Okay, lets try to close it without the pyrotechnics this time,” Greystar said. The gate smoothly shrank to about half its original size, but then wobbled and collapsed in a small, concussive blast. The gatekeepers were pushed back, but all managed to keep their footing.

“Not as bad as last time, but not great, either. The Earth team better get moving,” Weldon said. “Travel conditions ain’t improving any.”

Fisto helped Frosta to her feet. “You okay?”

“More or less. You?” Frosta asked, leaning on Fisto’s broad shoulder to steady herself.

“Starting to get used to it,” he jested.

“I think I’ll walk next time,” she said, her hand still resting on him.

“Looks like everyone came through without any major problems,” She-Ra noted, then turned to the two unfamiliar faces. “You must be Greystar and Weldon.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Greystar said, extending his hand. “Wish circumstances were better.”

She shook his hand. “Seems to be the way I meet a lot of people.”

“I know the feeling,” he said with a smile.

Weldon cleared his throat loudly. Greystar took the none-too-subtle hint. “This is Weldon.”

The Thenurian bowed slightly, then stood with his chest thrust forward. “Warrior, sidekick, and all around good guy, at your service.”

She-Ra smiled. “Glad to have you on our side, Weldon.” She turned to the Sorceress. “Any word from He-Man?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” the Sorceress answered. “The team on Earth has not contacted us.”

“Should we send someone?” She-Ra asked.

“We’ll be lucky to open one more portal off Eternia; two is pushing it way too far. We might not be able to bring anybody back,” Greystar said, shaking his head slowly.

“I agree,” the Sorceress said. “Our best chance is to conserve our magic until they call for the portal.”

She-Ra rubbed her chin, thinking. “Is there any way to contact them?”

“Not until they have the stone. They will need its power to get through to us.” The Sorceress could sense She-Ra’s concern. “If anyone can retrieve the stone and make it back safely…”

She-Ra nodded. “I know. But with everything at stake, I can’t help but worry a little.”

“He-Man will get them through,” Montork piped in. “He’s got my nephew to back him up, don’t forget.”

Mekaneck couldn’t’ help exchanging a quick grin with Extendar at the comment, but said nothing.

Malaktha sighed, tossing the wrench in his hand aside in defeat. The ornate sculpted head on the front of the battle ram seemed to stare back at him; he could swear it was smirking. The vehicle had been sputtering and shuddering since he’d left the palace. When he and Battle Cat had left Snake Mountain, he had planned to head straight for Grayskull, but miraculously, he’d been able to contact Weldon and Greystar with the portable communicator the mighty cat was carrying on the way. Greystar had the important information, thanks to their all too brief exchange, but there were more details Malaktha thought might be of use, and some older texts in his office at Eternos that could offer some insight, so he altered course slightly and stopped off at the palace. Battle Cat remained there at the King’s request to help with the growing disasters; the Royal Guard was stretched to the breaking point dealing with the crisis, and the mighty feline’s strength and speed were desperately needed. The archeologist had taken one of the few rams that was still running, piled his materials in the rear storage compartment, and headed for the castle. Finally, after struggling along the entire trip, it had given out, and no coaxing or cursing in ancient tongues could force it to move again. It had taken him most of the way, though, so it was not that long a walk to Grayskull, just a wet one, as the rain was falling harder now. He had brought too many things to carry that distance by himself, so he decided to grab the most important items, wrap them up to protect them from the storm, hike to the castle, and bring someone with a little more muscle back here with him to help with the rest.

He had just circled the ram and opened the rear of the vehicle when he heard footsteps beside him. He turned and saw Skeletor, flanked by Beast Man, standing with his havoc staff in hand.

“I hear you paid me a little visit, Malaktha,” the Lord of Destruction said in an overly polite tone. “You should have called first; I would have arranged a more formal reception for you.”

“The things I would call you wouldn’t be fit for mixed company, Skeletor,” Malaktha said, wishing more than ever he and Battle Cat had come here straight off.

“Such wit from a bookworm,” Skeletor shot back as his voice grew more menacing. “I don’t appreciate people breaking into my throne room and absconding with whatever they please. I thought you were an archeologist, not a common thief.” Skeletor walked over to Malaktha, stopping when he was less than an arm’s length from the man. “You obviously found something of interest in the papers you purloined, or you wouldn’t be heading for Grayskull in such a hurry. Tell me Malaktha, what was so fascinating that you’re so anxious to share with your friends?”

“I found a few ancient recipes I thought the Sorceress might like. Care for some cream of scarab soup?” Malaktha met Skeletor’s gaze, trying to put up a brave front, but his voice trembled slightly. The dark one’s minions didn’t frighten him, but Skeletor himself was another matter; anyone who could go up against He-Man and hold his own was not someone the archeologist wished to face alone.

This time Skeletor wasn’t amused. “One more time, then things will get very… unpleasant…for you. What...did…you…find?” Skeletor was leaning forward, his face mere inches from Malaktha.

The archeologist swallowed hard, and answered softly. “Hiss can’t re-cast the first part of the spell.”

Skeletor pulled back, stroking his bony chin. “I didn’t see that in the translations. You picked that up from the portions that weren’t translated, didn’t you?”

“I had a chance to look at a few parts at Snake Mountain. That was all I had a time to gather while I was there.” I’m not telling you I translated more on the way to the palace, Malaktha thought.

“So Hiss couldn’t finish the job even if he had the stones. A useful tidbit; it may even explain why I didn’t stumble across any snake men while we were going after the stone.” Skeletor tapped the tip of his chin as he thought.

“I don’t get it,” Beast Man said, trying to shake some of the water from his matted fur.

“And I’m supposed to be surprised at that? You have more hair growing inside your skull than on top of it.” Skeletor nodded slowly as he thought out loud. “Hiss was letting myself and the heroes battle over this stone. Probably did the same on the other planets involved. It’s all coming together now; he’s a clever little serpent, much as I hate to admit it.”

“Are you going to share your insight?” Malaktha asked, though he was already putting the pieces together himself. He wanted to see how much the dark lord had figured out.

“Hiss lets us battle over the stones, wearing ourselves down in the process, until one side finally has all three. We complete the first part of the spell, and then he and his slimy reptiles barge in, fresh and rested as new blooms on a flower. He takes control of the stones, and casts the second part of the spell. A plan almost worthy of me.” He looked at Malaktha. “But, then, you’ve probably already deduced all this, haven’t you? Unlike my witless hairball here, you actually have some active brain cells.” Skeletor seemed quite pleased, something Malaktha didn’t like, but he also seemed satisfied with that scrap of information, which was good. Malaktha had to keep him from pressing for further details; he knew if Skeletor learned the whole truth, it would be disastrous.

“It won’t do you much good,” Malaktha blurted. “The others already know all about it!” He tried to add some extra desperation to his voice; under the circumstances, it wasn’t difficult.

“And just how did you convey this to them?” Skeletor said. “You haven’t been to Grayskull yet, and communication has been next to impossible for hours. You had no vehicle when you left Snake Mountain, just Battle Cat. At best, that mangy bag of fleas had a portable transceiver, hardly powerful enough to reach your friends with this ‘breakdown’.”

“They… tuned it in,” Malaktha retorted, deliberately hesitating.

“Without Man-at-Arms or that little pest Gwildor around to iron out the technical problems?” He saw a startled look cross Malaktha’s face. “Oh, yes, I know who is still here on Eternia and who is not. Magic may be weakening, but I am, after all, still Skeletor. Man-at-Arms and Gwildor are on that miserable speck of a planet Earth, so they could hardly help in receiving your transmissions. And your new allies certainly couldn’t tune you in; they couldn’t even keep the attack trak’s lasers firing earlier today.” The dark lord cackled softly. “Nice try, Malaktha. No, I think the heroes don’t have a clue as to what you found. And I would like to keep it that way.”

Malaktha wanted to release the breath he’d been holding, but didn’t dare let Skeletor see his relief that his hasty plan had worked. He had remembered the words of the ancient philosopher, Neerak, whose works he had translated at the City of Knowledge years ago, “It’s not the truth you tell, but how you tell it.” Heeding those words, the archeologist had just succeeded in convincing Skeletor he was lying about contacting the heroic warriors, and kept the dark one from probing for further information, all by telling him the truth; it just sounded like a lie. His problem now was living long enough to tell someone how clever he had been.

Skeletor’s bonelike features shifted into the closest he could come to a wide smile. “You need help with this poor battle ram, Malaktha. Why not call your friends?”

Malaktha glared at him. “You just pointed out that communications are impossible,” he countered.

“Not with a little help.” Skeletor reached around behind him, and pulled a thick, insulated pouch from his belt. He opened it, and Malaktha saw the shimmering stone inside. “As you may have gathered from the notes you stole, the stones start oozing magical energy as they keep absorbing power. There should be enough ‘loose magic’ here to establish a connection with your friends, especially when they are so close by.”

“I will not lead them into one of your traps, Skeletor,” Malaktha proclaimed. “You want them, you’ll have to call them yourself.”

“Actually,” the Lord of Destruction said, “that is exactly what I had in mind.”

Skeletor cleared his throat and turned on the ram’s radio. “Hello?” he said, in a passable impersonation of Malaktha’s voice. “Can anyone read me?” He adjusted the controls, and held the stone close. “This is Malaktha. Is anyone receiving this signal?”

“This is Weldon,” a voice replied through the static. “You’re a little fuzzy, Malaktha, but frankly, I’m shocked I’m picking you up at all. This is worse than it was…”

“Yes, well, not to interrupt, but my battle ram broke down. I’m about a mile from the castle. Could you send Fisto out, if he’s back?” Skeletor saw Malaktha start to open his mouth, and nodded to Beast Man. The archeologist found a large, wet, hairy hand over his mouth a second later.

“Yeah, he’s back. She-Ra’s here, too. She might be able to help.”

“No, I really need Fisto. I’m hoping he can answer a couple of questions I’ve come across in Skeletor’s notes. He did once work for that fiend.” Skeletor could not suppress a slight grin at the irony of insulting himself.

“Okay, we’ll send him out to lend you a hand,” Weldon said, then paused, as if waiting for something. “Um, Fisto, hand, little joke there?”

“Um, yes, very little,” Skeletor answered.

“He’s on his way,” Weldon said flatly.

Skeletor clicked the radio off, and turned back to Malaktha. Beast Man removed his hand so the archeologist could speak.

“Why Fisto, in particular?” Malaktha asked.

“Patience, Malaktha, patience. You’ll have all your answers soon enough.” Skeletor placed the stone pouch back on his belt, and leaned back against the ram. He had one stone already. Hiss’s plan was becoming apparent, and Fisto would soon be repaid for his treachery. Before long, the stones would be his, and Eternia would soon bow to its new god.

“Not a bad day’s work”, he thought, cackling to himself.

“Well, that was short and none too sweet,” Weldon grumbled. “Who put a bee in his archeological dig?”

“Malaktha?” Mekaneck asked.

“Yeah; the breakdown must be affecting civility now.” Weldon harrumphed loudly and turned to Fisto. “He asked for you specifically; said you might have some info he could use from when you worked for Skeletor. While he was being rude, that is.”

“Considering everything that’s been happening, I think we can excuse a few short words,” Greystar offered. His voice seemed a bit weak, and he was leaning against the wall, seemingly for support.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, forgive and forget,” Weldon said with a sigh. “Anyway, his battle ram went kaput and he needs some help getting to Grayskull. You up to a little walk in the rain?”

Fisto nodded. “If he thinks I can help somehow, I’ll walk through a typhoon.” He turned toward the passageway leading to the jawbridge.

“Mind some company on the way out? Somebody needs to check outside and make sure we don’t have any company coming,” Greystar asked.

“You sure you wanna go traipsing around outside in this mess? No offense, but you’re not looking so good,” Weldon said, some concern in his voice.

“Just a little drained; must have taken more out of me opening the last portal than I thought.” Greystar straightened, still seeming a bit unsteady somehow. “A little rain on my face sounds refreshing right about now.”

Fisto motioned for the stranger to follow him, and the two walked down the hall, talking as they went.

“You were right,” Mekaneck said to Weldon. “He doesn’t look all that well.”

“He’ll pull through; he always does,” Weldon assured him, but his tone was less than convincing.

Kittrina was perched just above the jawbridge, in the small alcove that formed one of the castle’s “eyes” and gave the effect of a skull-like façade to the structure. She had been avoiding the rain this way since she had returned to the castle with the others, but the wind had shifted, and she was now getting a steady spray. Clichéd as it might seem, she did hate being wet. She kept shaking herself at regular intervals, but it was doing little good. The jawbridge began to open just as she began another shakedown; she stopped immediately, remembering the unappreciated free shower she had given Mekaneck earlier. Whoever was coming out was soon to be wet enough without an extra dousing from her. She looked down to see Fisto and Greystar exiting the castle. Fisto had an odd look on his face, and he was giving off the slightest scent of fear; Greystar seemed haggard. Their voices were too low for her to hear above the wind, and the conversation was evidently ending, but whatever they had discussed apparently wasn’t setting well with Fisto. Then again, Greystar didn’t look particularly thrilled at the moment, either. The stranger looked up and waved.

“Anything happening out here?” he asked.

“I’m getting drenched; other than that, nothing,” she said, pushing her matted hair from her face.

“Any sign of Stratos or Buzz Off?” he said. The two airborne warriors had set out toward Eternos to inform the king and the guard of their progress in retrieving the stones; he had a feeling it would be a while before they were able to make the full round trip in this weather.

“Not yet; not great conditions for flying. Or sitting, for that matter.”

“When Clamp Champ gets back, I’ll send him out to relieve you. For now, we need the keenest senses we have on lookout,” he said. “I’m sorry, Kittrina. Wish the weather wasn’t quite so wet.”

“You wish?” she snorted, but there was no real anger in her voice. “Just get Ror back and out here before I drown, alright?”

“As soon as we hear from them,” he answered with a feeble smile, glancing around as he made a quick circuit in front of the castle. “Just hang on for a little while longer.”

“I’m wet, I’m cold, the world’s coming to an end, and he tells me to hang on,” she mumbled. “I wonder if Skeletor’s taking new recruits?”

Greystar rushed into the throne room of Grayskull, dripping all the way in. “I just felt it; Orko’s trying to contact us.”

Montork nodded quickly. “Yes, I’ve got him coming through now, too; they have the Earth stone.”

“Two outta three ain’t bad,” Weldon said, rubbing his hands together.

Greystar’s face grew suddenly dark. “Something’s wrong; I think someone’s been hurt. Something about a…snake bite.” His lips curled. “Hiss. He was there.”

“That’s bad; his venom’s a magical poison,” Mekaneck said, shaking his head. “Slow, nasty stuff. There’s a remedy Man-at-Arms and Granamyr cooked up a while back, but I don’t think there’s any here at Grayskull.” He looked to the Sorceress, who was slowly shaking her head.

“She-Ra can handle it,” Greystar said. “Her healing ability should be able to knock it out of the victim’s system.”

She-Ra stroked her chin lightly. “I hope so; my powers don’t seem to be at their peak right now.”

“Worry about that in a few minutes. Right now our main problem is getting them back here. Fortunately, the stone you brought should help.” Greystar waved the Sorceress over. She picked up the glowing orb from where it had been resting on her throne, still partly wrapped in the protective blankets.

“’Should’ being the operative word here, I’m thinkin’,” Weldon groaned.

Fisto spotted Malaktha’s battle ram a short time after he left the castle. The ram was still, and the rear compartment was ajar, but he saw no sign of the archeologist. He was about to call out when he heard a rustle from the heavy bushes behind the ram. Skeletor calmly walked out from the foliage.

“Well, well, Fisto, my old friend,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you look like a man on a mission. Anything I can help with?”

Fisto’s eyes narrowed. “You can tell me what you did to Malaktha, bone head,” he snarled.

“Now, now, I’ve done nothing to the little bookworm,” Skeletor said. “He’s safe and sound in the collector, seemingly quite comfortably. He’s had a busy day, breaking into my stronghold and all, so he needs a little rest.” Contempt oozed from every word.

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Skeletor. Do you bring him back now, or do I start pounding away at everything in sight, you included?” Fisto raised his massive hand above his head.

“Oh, please,” Skeletor scoffed. “That overgrown appendage of yours may be impressive to look at, but it’s hardly a match for me, Fisto. That’s something we both know.” Fisto glared at him for a second, readying a retort, but Skeletor cut him off. “Let us dispense with this useless bravado, shall we? Thanks to your blunder, this world doesn’t have time for such banter.” Fisto winced slightly; Skeletor knew precisely which nerve to drill with his words. “Besides, we’re reasonable beings; I’m sure we can come to an understanding that benefits us both.”

“I understand you, skullface,” Fisto came back. “I also know we’ve got one of the stones, so you’re out of luck.”

Skeletor twisted his features into something resembling a smile, an unsettling sight. “And you apparently have the second stone, as well. I can feel a dimensional disturbance in the vicinity of Grayskull, so I can only imagine that your friends are returning from Earth triumphant.” He didn’t mention how difficult it was for him to detect it; even with the stone secreted in the pouch on the back of his belt, his normally acute mystical senses were nearly useless. The magics of the orb were not easy to tap, as he had discovered with his radio transmission earlier. Enhancing the signal so Grayskull would be sure to receive it took a good deal more effort than he had expected, especially at this close range.

“Two to one, Skeletor. Looks like we have the upper hand.” Fisto pointed out, worried that Skeletor seemed so calm about this development.

“Actually, old friend, I would have to disagree. I have one stone, and I have Malaktha. In the end, I think that gives me the advantage.” Skeletor said, still smiling in his twisted way.

“How do you figure that?” Fisto took a step toward Skeletor.

Skeletor shook his head. “They are not all I have on my side, Fisto. I have time, as well.” He looked up, and waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Look around you, fool. This planet is tearing itself apart, as are Earth and Etheria. How much of this do think the worlds can take before they’re damaged beyond repair? How much time do we have until no magic known can undo the harm you’ve brought down on us?”

Fisto bristled at that, but let Skeletor’s comment on his culpability pass.

“Think about it, Fisto. You will have to come to Snake Mountain to retrieve the stone, but you will have to leave at least a token force behind at Grayskull to guard the stones you have. Whatever remaining forces you can muster will have to make their way to Snake Mountain, probably on foot,” he glanced over at the disabled battle ram for emphasis, “and somewhere along the line, you’ll undoubtedly run afoul of Hiss and his slimy cohorts. That fool has been keeping a low profile since botching the spell at the temple, but you can be sure he’ll be back for the endgame with a vengeance. Then, after wasting precious time with him, you will have to storm Snake Mountain, and I assure you, I and my minions will fight you to the last lackey. Do you really think this world has that kind of time left?”

“Then just turn the stones over to us, and save everybody a lot of trouble.”

Skeletor cackled. “Not likely. You want the stone, you are going to have a major battle on your hands. You will have to fight for every inch, Fisto,” Skeletor nearly growled, “because I will watch this planet crumble…to…dust…before I will give up on this kind of power!!”

“And then you’ll go along with it, Skeletor!” Fisto snapped.

“”There’s a chance I can use the stone’s power to escape to another, safer world in time,” Skeletor replied. “It’s a risk, but I will risk anything here and now.” He leaned forward, a conspiratorial tone creeping into his voice. “I am talking might beyond reckoning here, Fisto. The might of a god. You know the allure of this, my old ally; try as you might to be the hero, there is a part of you somewhere that still salivates at the thought of true power. Oh, I’m sure you’ll deny it, and you may even convince yourself it isn’t so, to a degree. But deep down, we both know differently. You know what you would do for that kind of power, so you know what I would do for it.”

Fisto didn’t reply right away, and Skeletor’s bony features contorted even more. “You really think you know me that well?” Fisto finally said.

Skeletor cackled again, this time softly. “And you know me equally well, Fisto. I will sacrifice anything, even this world, if the stakes are high enough. And they couldn’t be higher.”

“Are you just trying to get under my skin, or are you proposing something in there somewhere?”

“My point, Fisto, is that you have lost. I hold the winning hand. I have a hostage, I have a stone, and I have the will to hold onto both until this planet is a crumbling pile of sand. The only way to save Malaktha and Eternia is to turn the other two stones over to me.”

Fisto laughed out loud, but there was no humor in the sound. “Just hand you a ticket to godhood? That’s all you want? Well, I’ll go fetch the stones right now!”

“Sarcasm won’t save your precious Eternia,” Skeletor said, still confident. “I return Malaktha to you and complete the spell properly in return for the other two stones. It is the only way.”

Fisto stood for a moment, silent. He looked back toward Grayskull, and his shoulders slumped from an unseen weight. “Why me? Why did you ask for me rather than someone else?”

“Because you understand better than any of them could, Fisto. As I said, you’ve been on the sides of both good and evil; you have a more, shall we say, pragmatic perspective on things because of that. He-Man and his friends are idealists; freedom is everything to them. They would let this world die before turning it over to me.”

“Might be the merciful thing to do, in the long run,” Fisto snarled.

“A dead world is of no use to anyone; at least a living Eternia can fight for its freedom. Consider that, my old friend.” Skeletor held out several small capsules. “These are smoke bombs; they are simple enough to still work fairly well. Use them when you are inside the castle, to cover yourself when you take the stones.”

“So I’m supposed to outright steal them for you, now?” Fisto snorted.

“Do you really think your friends will simply turn them over to you so you can give them to me? By the time they finish debating the issue, we’ll all be space dust. It’s up to you, Fisto. I’m giving you the chance to redeem yourself for your earlier bungling.” Skeletor waited, hand still outstretched.

“So all I have to do is betray my friends and turn the planet over to a monster…” Fisto began.

“…to save the world,” Skeletor completed the thought. You wanted to be a hero, Fisto. Heroes have to make hard choices. I will be with the collector, about three hundred yards behind us, for the next hour. After that, I will be gone, as will any chance you have of saving Malaktha. Or any of the billions who will perish because of you.” He placed the smoke capsules on the ground, turned, and walked back into the bushes.

Fisto stood for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Hard choices,” he muttered, grabbed the pellets, and then started running in the direction of Grayskull.