He sat up and took stock of his situation. He had landed on a narrow ledge overlooking a yawning ravine. He threw some gravel in experimentally and wasn't surprised to see it swallowed without a sound. The only thing he could hear were howling winds, somewhere in the darkness beneath him, occasionally sending a gust in his direction.
Above him the cliff face was absolutely smooth, as though a large chunk of rock had recently sheared away. In fact, it was probably the explosions he heard during the battle that had dislodged it. He couldn't reach a handhold.
He sank back into a sitting position, resting his back against the cliff face. He had to think. He certainly didn't want to spend the rest of his life stuck on a ledge in the middle of who knew where.
Then it occurred to him how ridiculous he was being. This was too bizarre to be real. He must be still dreaming, still at home, fast asleep in bed, probably tossing and turning. So, what was this part of his dream supposed to represent? Could this bottomless pit be a metaphor for his immortality, fancying himself caught in it with no end in sight?
Lost in his interpretive musing, he nearly missed the feminine voice that floated down to him from above. "Hello? Is anyone down there?"
Aha! So, his subconscious was offering him a way out. Should he take it, see where it led? Why not? "Here I am!" he called back. "Could you help me off this ledge?"
There was a pause. Several rocks rattled down the cliffside a few feet from him. "Just a minute. I don't have a rope. I'll have to pick you up on my sky sled."
Sky sled? What in the world was a sky sled, and from what dusty corner had his subconscious pulled that term? Not that it really mattered, as long as it got him rescued. He heard an engine approaching.
The most amazing vision floated down in front of him. A woman wearing what looked like a one-piece bathing suit and high-heeled boots rode what he could have sworn was a flying jet-ski without a seat. "Hop on, quick, and hang on tight," she said. "I don't know how long I can keep it steady before the winds pick up."
Perhaps this would turn out to be a good dream after all.
He gingerly boarded the contraption, which had apparently been intended to hold only one person, and wrapped both arms around the young redhead's mind-bogglingly slender waist. She manipulated a set of unseen controls, shifted her weight, and flew the jet-ski skyward.
Duncan jumped off the moment he spotted solid ground beneath him. The woman landed the machine, cut off the engine, and turned to face him warily. "Thank you for saving my life," he offered by way of a greeting.
She seemed to soften when she heard him speak. "The same thing happened to me once. You're lucky I came along. Who are you?"
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he introduced himself in his traditional fashion, holding out his hand.
"Teela," she said, accepting the handshake. "Captain of the..." She paused, a glazed look stealing over her features. A shiver passed through her body and she drew her hand back. "Captain of the Guard at the royal palace."
"Palace?" He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him loomed a huge stone structure, one of the most hideous pieces of architecture he had ever seen. The front of it had been sculpted into the shape of a human skull. A drawbridge formed the mouth, and two gaping windows glared at the onlooker in the shape of empty eyesockets. Not as easily defensible as arrow slits, but a great deal more intimidating.
"Yes, and I'm responsible for the king's safety, which means investigating everything out of the ordinary which might affect him. That includes you. How did you get here?"
He shrugged. It couldn't hurt to play along with the dream, since it didn't seem he would be waking up anytime soon. "I was in bed, in my home, when I felt I was under attack. I found myself in the middle of a war zone. I dodged an explosion and wound up falling into that chasm of yours. The rest you know."
The remainder of her antagonism filtered away. "I'm sorry you got caught up in our struggle. I'll ask the Sorceress to help you return to your home...when she has recovered her strength. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make your stay on Eternia more comfortable?"
She delivered the line in a businesslike manner, which suggested she didn't mean a service of intimate nature. He took her words at face value and held up his arms. "I wouldn't mind a change of clothes. I didn't have time to dress for the occasion."
"You look fine to me," she said, her eyes on his bare chest. Suddenly she gasped, realizing how that must sound, and lifted her gaze to his face, blushing. "I mean, our climate is usually very agreeable. Your costume wouldn't be out of place."
He grinned, finally understanding the rationalization behind her Madonna-esque outfit. How could he explain to her that he had become accustomed to wearing a coat wherever he went? Not that he had to worry much about a dream beheading. But it wouldn't do to ignore habits that had kept him alive. "Even so, my customs differ somewhat. I'd like to see what you have available."
She snapped her fingers. "I nearly forgot! That sword I found--it's yours, isn't it?" She fetched it from her sky sled and handed it to him. "This is what led me to you. You owe it a great deal."
"More than you know," he murmured, accepting the katana gratefully.
"You can stay at the palace until we find a way to send you back. It's within walking distance from here; I'll show you. My sky sled will be safe enough where it is."
He pointed over his shoulder at the forbidding stone fortress. "That's not the palace?"
She laughed. "No, that's Castle Grayskull, the repository of much of Eternia's most powerful magic. You were brought here by Skeletor's latest attempt to capture it. Hopefully the Sorceress can locate a portal inside the castle that leads to your home dimension."
He was starting to get the hang of the rules of this dream. "Lead on, Captain," he said, saluting her with his newly recovered blade.