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She-Ra and Fisto Part 2
Copyright @May 17, 1997 by Jennifer Thomas

Meanwhile, a huge man by the name of Ontork walked into
the tavern of a small village on the outskirts of the Endless Plains.
There a storm was brewing, a storm that rattled the window panes.
He had just come in out of the rain, stooping under the doorway to
make his entrance, dressed only in the traditional fur underwear,
leather boots, and gold bracelets. There was a green tattoo of a
spider's web atop his bald scalp, and scars from many battles past
all over him. He laid his double bladed battle ax against the counter
and grinded his half missing teeth, sputtering, "I am Ontork the
barbarian! I am looking for Fisto!"
The bartender greeted the man. "Welcome to the Zoar
Falcon Inn, how may I help you?"
"I am only looking for Fisto. Where is the runt?"
"Please, good sir, we don't want any trouble. Take your
fight elsewhere."
Ontork then proceeded to use the bartender's face to mop
the scum from the table. The host of drunken men and women in
the tavern hushed, averting their eyes from the scene.
"I am Fisto," a voice called out. It was a neatly trimmed
brown bearded man dressed in purple and silver striped breast plate
armor. He was standing at a small wooden table. Ontork grabbed a
small three legged stool that was in use and sat. The man whose
chair it had been did not complain, but rather, picked up his
belongings and ran off. "So, you are Fisto, eh?"
Fisto returned to his seat. "Yes."
"Well then, take your long sword and meet me outside so
that we may do battle!"
"Why?" asked Fisto.
"Why!? I challenge you! You, Mighty Fisto, Fearless Fisto,
you cower from a fight? I had heard great things of you, that you
were one step down from He-Man himself. If this is so, prove
yourself, fight me!"
The storm cackled outside. "No, not now, it's raining," said
Fisto calmly, drinking his beer.
Ontork snatched the beer from his hand and guzzled it down
in one swig, spilling it over his lips and beard and on to the floor.
Then, he crushed the copper mug in his hand, and slammed it on to
the table. "Not later," he cried, "NOW!"
Fisto did not feel like wasting his time on this savage.
Besides, he had made plans that evening to meet his beloved, Teela,
at the palace. "I had rather not go out now, but if you truly wish to
test your manhood, perhaps we could play a little game instead?"
"G-game?" he repeated. "What game?"
"Arm wrestling."
Ontork laughed, flexing his massive arms. "Very well!"
Fisto raised his right hand from beneath the table and there
came a huge iron fist, the size of which must have been four or five
times the size of a normal man's hand. Ontork's eyes popped at the
sight of it. Fisto smiled. "Inn keeper," he called forth,
"More ale!"

Caked with volcanic dirt, serpent blood, and dinosaur saliva,
Adora lay in the fetal position at the bottom of the river gorge. Rain
gushed over her in big watery globs. Blood from her snake bite
streamed down her waist. The storm washed over her just so that
more blood could seep through. Her pain had momentarily ceased,
and she knew she would have to get help if she were to survive. In
the distance she could make out the pterodactyl sitting on her flying
unicorn, Swift Wind. She could feel that it was still alive, so she
called to it with her mind, pleading for it to come. Somehow, the
dying animal gained strength for the love of its dying master, and
mustering all its remaining energy, thrust its unicorn's horn into the
belly of the sleeping reptilian bird. Imbued with a magic fire, the
spiraling pearl white horn stabbed right into the heart of the
pterodactyl, and it died. Then, ever so slowly, Swift Wind got to its
feet and limped to its beloved master. When it arrived, the majestic
animal needed to nudge her awake for she had fallen asleep, so
weary was she. Adora placed her hand against the pegacorn's side
and its wounds closed up and disappeared, and Swift Wind leaped
to life. Unfortunately, her healing touch could not undo the effects
of her poisoning. "Swift Wind," she said, "I am much too weak to
stand much less ride you. Quickly, you must get help!"

A crowd had gathered around the dueling two, making bets
and throwing gold coins. He heaved and grunted, foaming at the
mouth, shouting out obscenities, as sweat poured down his face.
A single vein popped out of his forehead, and his neck shriveled up
like a raisin. He leaned all his weight into it, but Fisto's arm would
not budge. "Perhaps you should try both arms," suggested Fisto.
Ontork had become so enraged, that he did just that. The wooden
leg of his stool collapsed, and Ontork fell on his butt still holding on
to Fisto's arm. "Give up?" asked Fisto.
"No!" cried Ontork, getting to his feet. "I will never give
up!" He grabbed Fisto's arm again.
Fisto was feeling sleepy. He yawned, holding his head up
with his free hand when something caught his eye. Looking out the
window, out in the rain, was a winged horse. Fisto was quite
amazed, for he had never seen a winged horse before. Yet, it
looked somehow familiar. He slammed his iron fist down on the
table breaking it in half and breaking Ontork's arm in three places,
and stood. Ontork lay on the ground cursing, as the bartender
walked up to Fisto. "You broke my table! Now who is going to pay
for that?"
"Here," said one corpulent man, handing the bartender a
handful of eternium pieces. He turned to Fisto. "I owe you.
Tonight, you have made me a richer man!"

The door creaked open. In came Father. The night light
gave just enough illumination to make him out. She sat up on her
pillow. Father sat at the edge of the bed. "Have we been good
today, Adora?"
"Yes, Father."
"Did you stay away from the restricted areas like I told
you?"
"Yes, Father."
"Do you think you can hide things from me, Adora?"
"No, Father."
"Then what is this!" he cried, taking a small mirror from his
pocket.
"I . . . I . . ."
"Don't lie to me, child!" He smashed the mirror on the floor.
Pieces of it scattered across the room. "What do you think now,
now that you have seen yourself?"
"I . . . I'm ugly, Father;" she buried her head in her lap
sobbing.
"Wh-what?" he said, surprised.
"I don't look like you at all!"
It was true. His skin was white and scaly, like a fish, with
fins instead of hair. His ears pointed like horns; his eyes were two
red slits; his teeth came to sharp points, and there were holes where
his nose would be. But to Adora, this was no monster; this was her
loving Father, Daddy Hordak.
"Ah," he smiled, patting her head. "There now, didn't I tell
you not to look in those things?" He wiped her eye lid with his
glove. "Let's pretend the whole thing never happened, shall we?"
"Yes, Father."
"Do you love your Father, Adora?" It was the same
question he asked every night. To her it meant, time for bed.
"Yes, Father."
"How much?"
"Very."
"More than Mother?"
"Yes, Father."
"Good girl! Show your father how much you love him; give
Daddy a little kiss!"
She laughed. "Yes, Father!"

Fisto examined the winged unicorn. "Truly remarkable!" he
said to himself. It seemed so gentle, almost as if it knew him,
he thought. Then, he noticed its golden bridle. You are not a wild
beast, are you? Where is your master?
Almost as if reading Fisto's thoughts, Swift Wind bit the
fingers of his left hand and pulled him away from the inn.
"Ow!" he cried. "First you are gentle, then you bite me?
What do you want?" Lightning struck again, and it dawned on him
that someone might need his help. Fisto turned to the stables where
his mechanical mare, Stridor, was stationed. He could follow the
creature on his horse, but what of his lover, Teela, who waited for
him? Perhaps, he thought, if he was quick and hurried back, he
could apologize for being late and she would not be so angry. But
what if he was late and she never forgave him? What if he was late
and she thought him dead? He had never been late before. Then
again, what if it was someone dying in the wilderness, desperately
needing his help? Yes, he had to go. He would go. "Teela can
wait," he said to himself. He looked at Swift Wind, then pointed to
Stridor. "Yes, I will follow you! Let me get my horse!"

*drip*
Mother was right, though, Father had warned her many
times, if she played in the infirmary she would be punished.
*drip*
The sound of iron grinding against iron could be heard
echoing in the distance; someone was being put into the Pit. This
was the only sound that could be heard from time to time, other
than the incessant dripping of a leak from somewhere. Counting
each second, it reminded her of the seeming eternity of her
detention, of the infinite, impenetrable darkness.
*drip*
The darkness was cold . . . so cold, and damp. What would
she give for a plate of food and some warm clothing? But she was
not alone. Someone, or some thing, slept at her feet. It stirred in the
corner.

Fisto raced under the stormy sky, against all the wind and
rain, on his mighty steed, Stridor, looking up from time to time to
catch a glimpse of the majestic winged mare soaring through the
clouds, leading him onward. It is as I thought, thought Fisto, he is
taking me to the Dead Zones. His master must be in great trouble.
But I must hurry; if I do not get there before the storm is over,
surely they will die in that unforgiving desert. Just then, Stridor and
Fisto fell forward, as if hitting some invisible wall. What's this?
"Go Stridor! Go!" he commanded. But the mechanical steed would
not move. Swift Wind circled back. Fisto jumped off the horse,
landing knee deep in a pit of black tar. "Oh no!" he cried.
Stridor was knee deep in it too, but as much as it struggled,
it could not free itself from the pit. "Damn you, Stridor!" he cursed,
pushing the horse. "Get up!"
Fisto fought for five straight minutes. In the end, his hands
were covered in tar and slippery, and he himself had sunk halfway.
It seemed the more he pushed, the further down they went.
Suddenly, something snaked up behind him, a green, slime-coated
tentacle with teeth. It snapped at him and he jumped back
screaming. Fisto leveraged himself up on to the horse, making it
sink further, grabbing his long sword and backpack. He squatted,
glancing around for the creature, swinging madly. Tar splashed up
and stuck to his face and beard, but the creature was nowhere to be
seen.
Fisto measured the length of the pit, but it was too dark to
tell where the tar ended and solid ground began. He spotted Swift
Wind hovering above him. Touching his fingers to his lips, he said,
"Good-bye, fair horse, I will miss you!" as the head of the iron mare
vanished in the tar. He was a bit saddened at the loss of his friend.
It was a gift given to him long ago by Man-at-Arms, the father of
Teela and Eternia's greatest inventor. At least, he thought, it was
only a machine and not a real horse, though by Man-at-Arms'
genius did it act no differently, and through the years had Fisto
come to know it so. As these thoughts raced through his mind,
Fisto reached over the back of the aerial mount, being careful to
avoid its flapping wings, and ascended into the air leaving his friend
behind.

*drip*
She tugged on her manacles; it was no use. She called for
Mother for the thousandth time. "I'm sorry! Mommy . . . I'll never
do it again; I promise!" She remembered her mother's parting
words. They echoed in her mind like a church bell:
"My dear sweet child, but it's for your own good. Remember,
Mother knows best."
*drip*
The beast awakened. His eyes glowed like hot coals. They
grew closer. Oh God, she thought, what terrible thing lie in wait for
her! What was that odor, like some dead, wet animal, as to make
her choke on the stench?
*DRIP*
She could feel his warmth brush against the hairs of her left
cheek and down to her neck and bosom. What was that snorting,
wheezing, gurgling sound, drowning out her screams, his breath?
*DRIP*
Oh what she would have given for that cold dampness now,
for that peaceful darkness, for that comforting silence, loneliness.
Please, go away. Leave me alone. Don't stare at me, don't stare.
*DRIP*
Did Mother know he was down here with her? Did Father?
They couldn't have wanted this for her . . . they couldn't have, but
they must know, she thought, they must.
*DRIP*

The clouds had moved on, and the blazing red sun turned
the earth a crisp golden brown. Fisto had walked the rest of the way
to the river gorge where Swift Wind had brought him, for he was a
bit leery of flying. There he found the rotting remains of a
tyrannosaurus rex and a pterodactyl. Between them was a small
figure. He could just make it out, but it seemed to be a woman. It
must be her, he thought! But how am I going to get down there?
He looked in his backpack, but all he had were a few gold coins and
a canteen. Swift Wind poked him in the ribs with its horn. "All
right!" he cried, jumping on. Fisto was much heavier than She-Ra,
especially with his iron hand, so rather than fly, Swift Wind glided
downward, landing gracefully next to Adora. Screech already
picked at the carrion of the two dinosaurs. One of them waited
patiently by her body. Fisto dismounted, chasing it off with his
sword. "Get outta here, foul bird!"
Then he turned to her. "Sh-she is beautiful!" he exclaimed. "What
could have done this to her?"
Examining the snake bite in her waist, Fisto knelt down
beside She-Ra's limp figure. He lifted his eyes, praying simply,
"please." Ever so gently, he placed her wrist in his left hand and
searched for a pulse. It was there, but faint. "Oh, thank the gods!"
he exclaimed. He cradled her head in the palm of his massive, iron
hand. Her lips were parched. Propping her mouth open, he poured
some water into her from his canteen. Then, he searched to find
some cloth, but there was none, none but her loin cloth. So he
removed it. Save for her knee high boots, from waist down, Adora
was nude. Fisto slapped himself, "Will power, man, will power!
This is no time for that!" He then proceeded to wash the wound,
and wrapping his lips around her slim abdomen, attempted to suck
the venom out. His mouth filled with the taste of her blood, though
he did not know whether there was any venom in it, or whether he
was doing any good. He spit several times, then tied the garment
around her.
Fisto stood with She-Ra in his arms. Turning to Swift Wind,
he said, "If she is to live, I must take her to the Sorceress of
Greyskull." He knew the horse could not take them both. "You
have served your master well. Now go on; find another who can
help us!" Swift Wind understood and flew away.
The river stretched on for miles, but it leveled off, and Fisto
knew, it led to Greyskull. He clutched Adora tightly. I will carry
her, he thought; I will carry her all the way, or I will die trying!

The Throne Room was like a cathedral. A bridge spanning
one hundred feet over a chasm of unknown depth, held two rows of
fifty Horde troopers standing guard on each side. All light fell on
the Emperor of the Horde, Hordak. The back of his chair was thirty
feet high in itself, standing on a platform ten feet high. The
dimensions of the room alone were unknown, as they were lost in
the shadows. Hordak was never without his shiny black armor
engraved with the symbol of his Empire, the fire bat of Etheria, or
his regal, blood red cape. He was rotating a glass sphere in his hand
when his mistress, Shadow Weaver, came in. "Great Hordak," she
echoed. "The child has been thrown into the Pit, as you have
ordered."
"Good." He continued to play with his ball.
"Are you aware, Great Hordak, that she is in there with . . ."
"Yes."
"She is female. Surely you should know that he will . . ."
Hordak stood, placing the sphere on the arm rests of his
throne. He did not look at her.
"But even you cannot be so cruel . . ."
He turned his back to her.
"Sh-she calls your name. She calls out for her fa-ther."
"Why, Shadow Weaver, I would almost think that you have
grown a heart," he scoffed.
"Allow me, at least, to move her to another cell."
Hordak looked at his gloved hand, admiring the fine
craftsmanship. He liked how the light reflected off of it; how it
could not penetrate the blackness. He closed his fingers into a fist,
walking off into the darkness, his cape flowing behind him.
"She will remain until I say so."
"As you wish." Shadow Weaver bowed, and disappeared.

It was time to sleep. Adora lay in her bed. Hordak loomed
over her. "Please," he begged, "for me?"
"No."
"Don't you love me?"
"Y-Yes," she whimpered.
"So what's wrong?"
"I just don't want to."
"There was never a problem before," he pleaded.
"I just don't want to do . . . that . . . anymore," she
whispered.
"But I'm asking you nicely." He leaned in closer.
"No!" she screamed. "Stop it!"
"Come on," he pushed, "let's get on with it!" All she could
see was his horrible face. Then the face of Hordak melted into the
face of Fisto.
"You're awake?"
She-Ra stirred. "Wh-where am I?"
"Don't worry, you're safe. I brought us into this cave so that
we could rest. We are about twenty miles from the Dead Zones
where I found you. You have been asleep for quite awhile; I have
been carrying you."
"How did you find me?" she murmured.
"I believe your horse brought me to you."
"Swift Wind!" she exclaimed. "Now I remember."
"Yes, I sent him on to get help. How do you feel?"
"Ugh!" she groaned as she tried to move. "I can't feel my
legs!" She looked toward her feet, noticing for the first time how
Fisto had undressed her, and dressed her wound, how he had lain
her across him, and sat with his back against the cave wall with her
head resting on his lap. "Get a good look at me, did you?" she
smirked.
Fisto averted his eyes. "N-No!" he said. "I didn't look."
"Sure you didn't." She smiled. "It's OK, I'm not shy."
"I am taking you to Castle Greyskull," he said, changing the
subject, "to see the Sorceress."
"Greyskull, yes, I know of the place."
"You do? Who are you?"
"I am She-Ra, Princess of Etheria."
"So you are She-Ra! I have heard legends, but never
thought to meet you, not in this way! So you are the sister of the
King, He-Man?"
"Yep, he's my brother."
"He is my good friend!" said Fisto. "I can't believe it . . . of
all people, She-Ra! Are you thirsty, She-Ra?" he asked, opening
his canteen.
"Yes, thank you." She drank from it. "King Hiss said there
is no cure for this poison."
"So, it was King Hiss who did this to you, that snake!"
"Do you really think the Sorceress can help me?"
"If she cannot, no one can."
"He said that I would die soon."
"No you won't!" cried Fisto. "I will get you there in time.
I promise!"
"Th-thank you, for saving me. You really are quite heroic."
"You're welcome."
"So tell me, what is your name, stranger?"
"Fisto."
"Fisto?" she giggled. "That's a silly name! Why are you
called Fisto?"
He raised his right arm. "See!"
She wrapped her whole hand around his index finger. "Oh
my, is that a glove, or is it your hand?"
"No!" he chuckled. "It is my hand!"
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't know," she said
softly.
He laughed. "Don't be sorry! I'm not!"
"How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Well, it's a long story, but I guess I'll tell it to you, since we
have nothing else to do." When he spoke, Fisto liked to gesture
with his hand, which was quite dangerous, for She-Ra feared that at
any moment he would crush her, but she listened intently to his
story anyway. "When I was a young, handsome man, I lived
peacefully in the Forgotten Forest as a woodsman with my wife and
child. Chopping down trees, I had become very strong. In fact,
I was said to be blessed from birth with super-human strength.
I showed off at festivals and by competing in arm wrestling
tournaments. In all Eternia, I could find no man but He-Man, who
could best me in arm wrestling. Some suggested that I use my great
strength to aid the Eternian Royal Guard, but I was not a violent
man and did not wish to enlist. Then, one day, a man by the name
of Jitsu broke into my home. He murdered my wife and child before me,
and cut off my hand."
"How awful!" she said.
"So distraught was I, that I went to Castle Greyskull to see
the Sorceress. She searched the treasures of the Ancients to find a
magic, solid iron hand to replace my own, and I joined the men-at-
arms, learning to use my new limb as a great weapon."
"But is it the same? As a real hand, I mean?"
"No. Never again would I be whole. It doesn't seem like a
great loss, still having my other hand. But, She-Ra . . ."
"Please," she said, "call me Adora."
"Adora, that is a pretty name. Well, Adora, never again
could I write a simple letter. Never again would I know the feel a
newborn infant in my arms. They are the simple things in life that I
miss. And when I see my hand, that it is gone, I am forever
reminded of the loss of my wife and child."
"I . . . I'm so sorry."
"I spent many years looking for Jitsu, so that I may take
revenge, but when I found, fought, and defeated him, I could not
bring myself to kill him. So I let him live with the agony of defeat,
and a missing hand forever as a reminder of me."
Fisto looked at her sleeping peacefully on his lap. He could
feel her pulse through his legs. She looked so beautiful, he wanted
to kiss her. Only thoughts of her predicament, and of Teela,
prevented him.

Fisto slung Adora over his left shoulder, holding on to her
with his iron hand as he climbed over rocky hills and through arid
plains. He stopped to rest when he could, in caves or beneath the
shade of a tree, for the Eternian sun never set on the Bright Side.
But with all his great strength, he was growing tired. He had not
slept or eaten in over twenty Eternian hours, and only wet his lips
with water, saving the most of it for her. His run had turned into a
jog, his jog into a walk, and now his knees buckled and he had to
stop. Gazing up at the two moons, Eon and Infinity, he could see
that time was wearing thin, and he still had much to go.

*DRIP*
Oh God, I can feel it touching me. I wish I could just close
my eyes and die . . . I wish I was somewhere else, someone else . . .
I wish.
*DRIP*
Please, someone hear me; someone help me. Oh no, not
there, don't go there!
*DRIP*
She was 14.

She-Ra awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. Her face had
turned light green, her lips a deep violet; she panted as if giving
birth. Fisto placed his left hand to her forehead. It was damp,
burning. He laid her gently to the ground, kneeling beside her.
"Adora!" he cried. "How do you feel?"
"N-Not too good." She tried to smile. "Oh Fisto, I can't feel
anything. I can't move my arms!"
Fisto brought her to his chest, holding her tight. "Please,
Adora, hang in there! You can make it!"
Thoughts raced through his mind, met, and battled for
dominance. What would he do? She was so weak. Should he let her
rest, or did they have time for that? If he tried to move her now,
would she become more sick? His hands trembled with indecision.
The only thing that mattered to him was her life. If she died, he did
not know what he would do, he could not even imagine.
"Fisto," she said, "talk to me, please."
"What should I say?"
"Tell me more about your hand. Isn't it heavy? Don't you
get tired carrying it around? What do you do when you sleep, take
a shower, make love?" She was mumbling. He could tell she
wanted to sleep, but that she was forcing herself awake.
"Well, the hand comes off. See," he said, and with a twist of
his other hand, he removed it, his right arm now ending in a stump.
"Adora . . . I don't usually show people this, only my closest
friends. It makes me feel . . ."
"Embarrassed?"
"Y-Yes." His face turned red.
"I don't usually show people my vagina, either," she said
with a smile.
He laughed. "How are you feeling now, my dear?"
"Better."
"Water?" he asked, bringing the canteen to her lips.
"No thanks, I don't think I could stomach it right now."
"Whatever you need, I am right here for you."
"Fisto . . ."
"Yes?"
"Hold me."
"I am holding you, Adora," he affirmed, staring into her
eyes. "You know so much about me, tell me about yourself?"
"Well, let's see . . .," she started slowly. "When I was a
baby, I was kidnapped by Hordak and taken to Etheria. There I was
raised believing that he was my natural father and Shadow Weaver
my mother. I was raised to be a great warrior.
When I was a grown woman, I met my brother, Adam, who
was fighting against the Horde. The Sorceress recognized my true
identity and helped him to reveal to me the truth, that I was not the
daughter of the evil Emperor, but of King Randor and Queen
Marlena of Eternia."
"It must have been quite a shock!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it was. I lived half my life believing in a lie. Even now,
it is difficult for me to have any real feelings for my true parents,
though they have shown me nothing but love and kindness. When I
think of father, the first thing that comes to mind is Hordak."
She began to cry.
"D-Do you love him as a father?"
"No!" she screamed, shaking her head, for she could not
move any other part of her body.
"He must have been pretty cruel."
"All I want is to see him lying dead with his blood on my
sword. I have no other reason for living . . . other than Sea Hawk."
"Who is Sea Hawk?" he asked.
"My boyfriend, but he was turned to stone by King Hiss."
"Oh. D-Do you love him?"
"Yes, but you wouldn't want me. I am a disgusting whore."
"Wait!" cried Fisto. "I didn't mean anything by that! And i-if
I did, why would you say such a thing, about yourself? I don't think
you're disgusting. In fact, I think you're quite nice."
"You don't know too much about me, do you? But then
again, no one does." She turned from him.
"Tell me, please. Whatever it is, I'll understand. I will think
of you no less!"
"I . . .," and she began to convulse in his arms, spitting up
blood. "Before I die, let all who are fighting the Horde know one
thing, when I was 14, Hordak left me in the Pit with his monster,
Grizzlor, to be raped." Her body did not stir. She closed her eyes as
the last tears streamed down her face. King Hiss did not know the
meaning of the word pain.


    

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