With the Mutants and the Lunataks imprisoned and Mumm-Ra banished by the Guardian of the Book of Omens, Third Earth was finally free. Cat's Lair and the Tower were now defense posts and the League of Third Earth was in control of the Thundercats' adopted world. This was the third and final trip from Third Earth and when this ship landed, at long last, they would be home on New ThunDERa--permanently.
"We're entering our solar system," Pumyra announced. "Want to do the honors?"
He gave his busy co-pilot a glance. Her fingers danced rapidly over the controls and her eyes sparkled in anticipation. Tygra didn't blame her. "Nope," he answered with a grin. "You can contact the Lair."
"But I did it last time," she said, looking up. "And what's that grin for?"
"Oh, nothing...I just thought you might want to talk to a certain someone at the other end."
Mildly annoyed, she shook her head. "You guys! You won't give it a rest, will you?"
"Well, you have to admit--"
"Uh-uh. Whoa!" she said, gesturing for him to stop. "Look, I've told you guys again and again--Bengali and I are not bonding until we're ready. Got it?"
"Okay, okay," Tygra said, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. "I got it."
"Jips," she muttered, reaching across the console to trip the comm-switch. "We haven't even officially paired yet, and you males already have us bonded!"
He cast a sideways glance at her, keeping his smile to himself. He knew who wasn't quite "ready" yet, and it wasn't Bengali. >
"Feliner to Cat's Lair," she said to the comm grid. "Do you read?"
"Loud and clear," came Bengali's growlly voice over the speaker. From the tone of his voice, there was no mistaking how he felt. "What's your E.T.A.?"
"Not soon enough," she said, "but if you want a number, we estimate 32 minutes."
"We'll be waiting, and I can guarantee you a red carpet."
"I'll expect it, mister," she said softly.
"Then you've got it," he replied. "Lock onto our homing beacon and you're home free."
"Only a matter of time," Tygra muttered, leaning back, hands behind his head.
"Locking on," Pumyra said, her scowl at him changing into a crooked smile. She set the transceiver to the correct frequency, releasing navigation to the computer.
Slowly, he eased back the throttle and the ship dropped to space normal speed, the rainbow blur of passing stars changing to barely visible fuzz-spots.
Bengali's transmission crackled as it came over the speaker. "We have you, Feliner! Relax and enjoy the ride. Cat's Lair out."
"We read you," Pumyra responded. "Feliner out!" And she flipped the switch to the off position.
"We'd better start re-entry preparations."
"Starting check-list," Pumyra answered, taking readings from the scopes at her co-pilot station. "Matter of time," she echoed his muttered words. "Hmpf!"
Tygra's smile broadened as he re-checked the recorder log. The black dot on the central console's gridded screen was now the size of a marble, the readings in the lower left hand corner rapidly decreasing as the ship drew closer to New ThunDERa. Soon, the blue and lavender globe filled the forward viewscreen and the monitor was no longer needed.
He gazed at the wonderful new world nestled in its pocket of space, the five moons, formerly of Plundar, surrounding it. Beyond them burned a giant red sun--the Star of ThunDERa. After six long months all the Thundercats would be reunited once more on the soil of what was their old planet.
"After all these years--all our hardships," Pumyra said, her gaze fixed on ThunDERa, "we're home. Please, tell me it's not a dream."
"It isn't," Tygra said, thinking of old ThunDERa and what it had been like. Gone were the elegant spired cities, the structured civilization and agri-techno industries that provided the necessities as well as the luxuries of life. The saddest change would be the lack of people. Yes, there were survivors, but only a handful. Nearly all the population had been destroyed when the original planet exploded.
"You realize it's not the ThunDERa we knew. The cities are nothing but space-dust laden ruins. The settlement is just that--a settlement. There's a lot of hard work ahead of us."
"No different from when we arrived on Third Earth," Pumyra replied.
"So true, healer. So true," Tygra said and glanced at the chronometer, then reached across the console. A slight bump jolted the craft as it skimmed the outer atmosphere, the first shimmers of friction hitting the heat shields.
The steady beep of the homing beam sounded from the audio pulse board, the signal quite visible on the forward scanner. The spaceship followed the beacon, gradually descending over a glimmering deep blue ocean that bordered a large green land mass.
Tygra's happiness grew as the terrain patterns and details became more recognizable. Below, the yellow plains transformed to green hills, changing into beautiful dark lavender mountains, and beyond were the snowy peaks of the northern regions.
He gazed at the snow-capped mountains, wondering how much they had changed. The north had been the place of his birth, his childhood. Long ago, he had earned the leadership of his clan there, had met and bonded with Fierra.
His spirits dampened. Fierra--how he wished she could've been here to see this, too. But that was not meant to be.
Aja was his mate now, if you could call what they had a bonding. Guilt still haunted him from the Aviirian nightmare that had resulted in their pseudo-bonding--a forced link that had finally broken the slender thread to his missing wife.
Try as he might, he just couldn't banish his feelings about Aja. Their bond was wrong, not of the heart, only of flesh and pheromones--and something more he couldn't quite understand. Whatever the factor, it held them together, and now only death's cold embrace could release him.
With time, he thought, maybe he could learn to love her--with time, the wounds would properly heal. But even with their brief time apart, he knew that he was only fooling himself. Time never really healed anything, he thought, just merely made you older.
Suddenly the craft bounced violently, jolting him from his thoughts. A shrill warning buzzed from the computer, the navi-comp screen going blank.
"Tygra," Pumyra said, pointing at the horizon. "What's that?"
He looked up, his mouth dropping open. "What the hell--?"
Before them churned a massive grayish-green cloud, twisting like a tornado on its side. He frowned at the sensor scope, quickly widening the scan field. "This is impossible! Nothing registers!"
The strange cloud began to move, rolling toward them. Momentarily transfixed, Tygra and Pumyra stared into the swirling morass. Unearthly lights flashed from it, the energies washing over the craft. "By the ancients!" Tygra gasped, a pins-and-needles chill engulfing his entire body.
Pumyra shivered, rubbing her arms. "What was that?"
Dread filled him. His hands hit the board, fingers flying across the controls. He knew that chill--had felt it years ago. "Evasive action! Now!" The alien contact intensified, surrounding him, tapping into his thoughts.
He ignored it, working to turn the craft as Pumyra boosted the engines. The scopes blipped clear as the mass receded, but still his uneasiness persisted. That place couldn't have survived, he thought. Briefly, he closed his eyes, trying to banish the fright, but he couldn't shake the feeling that a cold hand had reached out of a grave to grab his soul.
"Oh, no!" Pumyra gasped.
Tygra's head jerked up. "No! It's in front of us! Quick! Hard to port! Make for space!"
They worked in unison, blasting the engines full speed. Tygra watched the monitors, his fears swelling. That thing should have been left far behind, but the visual scope wouldn't clear. Suddenly a wall of gray-green shot up in front of them.
"Turn--" Tygra shouted, maneuvering the control grips, fighting to keep the craft under control. "Boost thundrillium input!"
"Trying!" Pumyra yelled, working furiously at her station. "No response!"
They slammed into a solid wall of turbulence, the scream of bending metal reverberating through the ship. "Stabilizers buckling--megacondenser is super-heating." Pumyra slammed her fist on the console. "The comm's dead!"
Tygra held onto the grips, sweat dampening his face, panic flooding him as dozens of vapor-like tentacles reached for the ship, wrapping around the fuselage and wings. A warning message flashed hot-red on the console's black screen; Insufficient Hydrogen Mix.
Suddenly their speed plummeted. The damned thing was smothering the engine intake. Desperately, he tried to coax more power from the dying engines.
The craft shook violently, pressure cracks spreading across the clear canopy. Brackets snapped, the sound of strained braces ripping from their mounts mixed with the hissing of the console.
"Can't--hold it!" Tygra growled and the control grips broke off in his hands.
Pumyra screamed, her console exploding in her face. Fire burst from the boards, spewing sparks, smoke and fumes. The choking stench of burning circuits spread in waves, filling the cockpit.
The vortex sucked them in, spinning them round and round. Tygra screamed, his arms shielding his face as the ship spiraled into a churning gray sea of hell.
###
Several seconds passed as she gazed at the looking-glass, a sadness overcoming her as she wondered about the stranger that looked back from her mirror. Butterflies danced a never ending rhythm that threatened to rise into her throat, and she knew why.
Tygra was coming home--to his home. After all this time, he would be on New ThunDERa, and the thought was a little unnerving.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the old thoughts and fears, but they wouldn't go away. Over the time they had been joined, she had grown to care for him, respect him. For three years she had tried to be theimage she thought he wanted, to please him and make him proud. They had talked in attempts to resolve their pain and she thought they had succeeded--at least for a while anyway. But no matter what the words, the animosity was subtly there, always lying beneath the surface.
How she wished their relationship could be different--like Lion-O and Cheetara or Bengali and Pumyra. It could be-if he'd only try.
The thoughts were suffocating her and she quickly rose, going to her open bedroom window to gaze out at the alien landscape of her new homeworld. The sandy white Valley of Stone Giants was where they had built New Cat's Lair. So odd, the guards of a bygone ThunDERa stood silent, protecting a fledgling settlement that meant life to a reborn planet. She didn't need special powers to see that the Thundercats were all so happy to return to their beloved world. She should be happy too, she thought, but she wasn't, and that made her feel even more like an outsider. She knew nothing of old ThunDERA, her vague memories were those of a five year old, a child who'd grown up on a starship. All she had known were starfields and solid walls, an Orion slave-ship, and then tragedy and grief.
An image of her old master came forth in her mind and she smiled warmly, remembering the love and care she'd had there. Back then, she had been so happy--and so naive.
Her smile turned sour as she realized that was the past and there was no going back. She was stuck here--with Tygra, part of a group, but not really belonging. Somehow, she knew she would never really be accepted either as his mate or as a Thundercat. Gods, how hard she had tried to prove herself, time and time again--but to them she was just a commoner. Bitter tears welled up and she fought them back. She'd be damned if she'd greet Tygra with reddened eyes.
The comm unit sounded, breaking her thoughts. "Aja, the Feliner will be here soon," came Panthro's voice over the speaker. "Better get ready."
"Okay!" she replied. A stab of anxiousness struck deep inside her stomach. Oh, gods! Tygra would be arriving in a matter of minutes.
The thought of it clouded her emotions even more. She looked up at the clear lavender sky, speaking as if he could hear her. "I've missed you," she whispered, "but also, in a way, I haven't." Guilt washed through her as finally admitted the feelings in her heart. "It's been warmer out from beneath your shadow...but--" Tears brimmed in her eyes, one spilling down her cheek. "Why can't you see I'm worthy of your love? What's wrong with me that you can't you love me?"
Subtly, a tingling sensation began, apprehension trickling through her body, a strange nameless feeling overtaking her mind, making her eyes open wide. A leaden heaviness filled her heart, a feeling she couldn't fully interpret except that she knew that something had happened--to Tygra!
For a moment she stood, unsure of what to do. Then, abruptly she spun, going invisible as she headed for the door. She had to know if her intuitive alarm was a false echo or wish of the mind, and the only way to find out was by going to the control room.
###
Ten minutes ago everyone had been in the control room, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Feliner, only to see it disappear off the grid. Fears had gone from bad to worse when Panthro pinpointed the down-location as L'eng M'rath.
He shook his head. How this hideous place had survived the destruction of the original ThunDERa, he didn't know, but it had been part of its recreation. And now two Thundercats were down in the middle of it, injured--possibly dying and the place was half a world away. Even if the hyper-jump maneuver got them there in a matter of minutes, they still had to foot it through that terrible place and then get them out. Hopes were slim, but as long as the Sword indicated they were alive he'd do everything possible to reach them.
The ready light glowed and he keyed the warm-up sequence, rotating the platform to move the Thunderstrike into position for a quick lift-off once the other Thundercats arrived. He looked at the elevator, frowning as he wondered what was keeping them.
Just then, the lift doors opened and out came Bengali and Lynx-O and, to Lion-O's surprise, Cheetara.
Lion-O placed a hand on the white tiger's shoulder. "Bengali, you take the left pod and I'll take the right."
Grimly, Bengali nodded and headed for his assigned position. Lion-O turned to the blind Thundercat. "Lynx-O, the braille-board is yours. Cheetara," he said, looking down into his wife's somber face, and tenderly grasping her hands, "I'm afraid there isn't time for a lengthy goodbye. Time is of the essence."
"Lion-O," she replied softly, "there's a problem. It's too dangerous for you to go on this mission."
"What?" Momentarily speechless, he studied his mate. From the solemn look on her face, he suddenly understood why. "You've had a vision?"
She nodded, a chill visibly bristling the fur on her cheeks. "Terrible blackness--a burning hatred and it wants revenge. It wants the Sword of Omens. What took the Feliner down was not a storm. It was something worse than Mumm-Ra." Her fingers gently squeezed his hand.
Lynx-O moved closer to the two. "We suspect the paranormal apparition she detected is M'reth Sa."
"The Servant-pet of Barthaz?" Lion-O looked from Lynx-O to Cheetara and back. "I remember the story," he said. "It's in the Book of Omens. It's said the Sword of Omens once belonged to him, the dark ancient. He'd used it against his fellow ancients, thus his actions created the 'Curse of Barthaz.'"
"Precisely," said Lynx-O. "It's the very reason why the Sword cannot be used against a fellow Thundercat, or for any evil purpose. When Barthaz was defeated by his sister, Ah-Shadeen, and his brother, Leonnas, he was imprisoned in a tomb of burnt marble. Legend has it he waits for the chosen cat to free him. He supposedly said, 'Woe to the one who breaks the seal of confinement, for he shall be consumed in black fire and I shall feast on his soul and be freed.' If such a thing would happen, it would lift the curse and the Sword would be anybody's prize."
Cheetara grasped Lion-O's arm. "If M'reth Sa is still in the L'eng, Barthaz could be, too. If he is and you take the Sword, my vision makes sense."
"Then I won't take the Sword."
"No," Cheetara answered. "Through you, he can still get to it. I'll go in your place."
"Lion-O," Bengali called from the open pod. "We are wasting time."
Lion-O nodded, looking again at his life-mate. "You say it's too dangerous, but you want me to send you instead." He looked deeply into her crimson eyes, seeing the grim sincerity. Whatever she had seen and felt must have been very strong for her to attempt to persuade him in this manner.
"With my sixth sense, Lynx-O's extra-sensitive hearing, and Bengali's strength, we'll find Tygra and Pumyra quickly and leave before anything even knows we're there. For you to go into the L'eng would be far too risky."
Tight-lipped, Lion-O looked at her, mulling over the legend that Lynx-O had recited. In his heart he knew he had to listen to them. Finally, as much as he disliked it, he nodded. "Very well."
"I'll initiate the cockpit checks," Lynx-O said, leaving the two alone.
Cheetara's eyes met Lion-O's. "I promise we'll be careful."
"What's this? You can read minds now, too?"
That brought a slight smile and he reached out to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. "Return swiftly and safely."
She gave a nod, gently pulling him close for a light kiss and then she was off, heading for the right pod.
The clear blue plexi-plast canopy closed and the Thunderstrike's engines revved to life. Lion-O moved into the protective enclosure of the hangar's computer station, the hot back-blast from the turbines buffeting the panels. The craft lifted up vertically, slowly rising through the open bay.
His heart weighed heavy as he watched the engines kick into a high burn, shooting the craft forward and upward in an incredible burst of speed.
Lightly, Lion-O touched the gleaming hilt of the Sword of Omens that hung at his side. "Jaga, please protect them", he murmured as the craft disappeared into an encroaching cloud bank.
###
He opened his eyes to mere slits, trying to will his senses back to normal. The hard G-force had pressed him deep into his cushioned seat, the restraining belt hanging slack against his belly and shoulders. Dying electrical charges fizzled and cracked from the damaged console pressing against the lower half of his legs. Slowly, he shifted position, the movement sending waves of agony radiating up his body; the warm, wet sensation of blood was unmistakable. He couldn't move his legs. They were trapped by the buckled console.
He tried to clear his mind by concentrating on the pain. Turning slightly in the direction of the co-pilot seat, he rasped, "Pumyra?"
Slumped to one side, arm dangling over the arm-rest, the unconscious she-cat sagged forward, still strapped in place. Blood trickled down the side of her terribly burned face and arms, staining what fur was left on her skin. Her console was a crumpled mass of smoldering, charred debris. The canopy above her creaked, more cracks spreading through the shield like a crazy spider's web, threatening collapse at any minute.
He reached, straining to touch her limp hand. "Pumyra? Pumyra, can you hear me?" A surge of panic rose when she did not respond.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed, exerting all his strength against the metal trapping his legs. Pain shot forth, the agony screaming across his nerves. The screech and groan of metal giving way sounded throughout the damaged cockpit as the console grudgingly inched back under his pressure. Finally, there was enough room to allow him movement and he eased his blood- covered knees from their trap.
Thank Jaga! he thought. Despite the pain, nothing seemed to be broken. Looking around, he wrinkled his nose. Fumes were gathering, and the tendrils of smoke rising from the consoles were merging into a thick cloud. He didn't need his cat-senses to know they had to get out of the damaged ship and fast.
He crouched in his seat, ignoring the pain now zinging up his legs, and reached inside his tunic for his bolo-whip, hoping he could still move fast enough. He eased over the mid-console divider, the slight shift of weight causing the cracked plexi-shield above them to quiver. Gently, he released Pumyra's safety belt and pulled her up and over his shoulder, the added weight sending more pain shooting up his spine. Trembling, he gritted his teeth, aimed the unsheathed tri-head at the canopy, and fired.
Energy exploded on impact, the cracked steel and thick glass compound shooting outward.
Tygra leapt through the completely shattered canopy, brilliant fire erupting like a volcano as he and his unconscious burden hit the soft, black ground. In white-hot agony his legs collapsed, sending the two of them sprawling. Tears burned his eyes, grayness eating away his field of vision as he fought to remain conscious.
Weakly, Tygra raised up on his elbows. A green, swampy smell assaulted his nostrils. After several seconds his eyes adjusted to the eerie twilight of the woods.
Garish black trees that bore no leaves formed a thick barrier of skeletal branches that reached up to an ugly sky. Long beards of moss swayed in an icy breeze that carried the stale mists of used magic over the rocky soil.
Memories sparked of a place that legends spoke of, a place where spirits of those lost or taken before their time were condemned to wander.
"No," he breathed. "This can't be--"
A deafening blast shook the ground, the Feliner exploding into a blue-green inferno of fiery pieces and metal rain. He gasped as he realized a bad situation had just gone to worse. Those had been the fuel tanks. Next would be the Thundrillium core, and when it ignited it would vaporize this blighted patch of woods and them along with it.
Desperately he crawled on his belly toward Pumyra, fighting the agony wracking his shoulders and legs. He reached her, gripping her arm, when suddenly a blood curdling shriek shot through the air and into to the core of his soul. Open-mouthed, he twisted on the ice-cold ground, a new terror paralyzing his vocal cords.
A copper energy-cloud materialized above the wreckage like a nightmare, bellowing with delight as its tendrils reached for the burning craft. Suddenly it covered the crumpled Feliner like sponge-moss, absorbing the fire and smoke spewing out of the cracked hull until there was nothing left but a cold, burned-out shell.
Slack-jawed, his eyes were transfixed by the hellish mists. "No," he breathed, his fears confirmed as the monster turned toward him. "M'reth Sa."
###
Her fingers tightened against the pod control grips. There was some danger of structural damage to the craft, but the maneuver would chop ninety-five percent off their travel time, so it had to be chanced. Otherwise, going by the conventional super-sonic velocity, it would have taken them fourteen hours to reach the L'eng.
Rapidly she punched in the control codes, making the LED graph-levels bounce. "Right pod set for transition," she announced to the comm. "Let's hope this thing can take what we're going to give it."
"Affirmative, right pod", Lynx-O replied. "Left pod coordinates. Count down to maneuver--ten minutes. Stand by for my command."
Ten minutes, she thought. It might as well be an eternity--like the eternity she'd felt in her psychic flash.
Once more the vision-memory rose up, nearly smothering her mind.
Red eyes burned against the black stench of sulfur, the glowing orbs coalescing into an angry Eye of ThunDERa. Lightning struck, the jewel exploding into jagged chunks that flew from the Sword's hilt, blue fire engulfing the silver blade. Images of Lynx-O, Bengali, Pumyra and herself flashed in the empty socket, stopping on the likeness of Aja. Terror contorted her face as it blurred, transforming into Tygra. Darkness colored his soul, his face changing as a fiendish laugh filled the dreamscape.
A psychic-blast flashed, the vision changing into negative images. A silver blade burst through Lion-O's bloodied chest, his flesh shriveling--disintegrating into dust around the Sword of Omens. Tygra stood there, the corrupted Sword in his hands, his maniacal laugh filling the void.
Anguished, she shook her head to stop the frightening thought cycle, trying to shut out the residual feelings of bitterness and hatred that still echoed within her. The sulfurous stink still burned in her nostrils, turning her stomach.
The knot of fear tightened in her stomach. Why Tygra? Why did she see him killing Lion-O? She took a deep breath, again forcing herself to stop dwelling on the vision.
"Countdown commencement, five minutes," came Lynx-O's voice.
"Right pod, acknowledge," she responded.
Quickly she flipped a toggle on the side of the viewer and a gridded map flashed onto her screen, immediately followed by an overlay of the calculated trajectory of the Feliner. Numbers rolled across the bottom of the screen, the compu-server plotting the closest point in the perimeter to the crash site. She sighed, watching the computer work, wishing she could hurry the thing up.
If Panthro's calculations were correct, Tygra and Pumyra were located almost at the center of L'eng M'rath. That was bad. Once there, the rescue party would have to go on foot as no machinery would function properly within the dead-magic realm. And now that the computer displayed the actual number, she realized they were in for a hell of a long walk.
"Hang on," she murmured as if Tygra and Pumyra could hear her. "We're on the way."
A yellow dot flashed on the grid, marking the west lateral of the targeted area. She flicked the comm-switch on the handle controls and said, "Lynx-O, Bengali, the shortest distance between the perimeter and the Feliner's calculated position shows our best entry point at 0.29.34. I'm transmitting my findings to the main board."
After a brief silence, Bengali said, "My findings concur. Since we can't take the Thunderstrike into the L'eng, the shortest route is from the west."
"Good, then we all agree," Lynx-O said. "Please recheck your weight and balance calculations. I have a one-hundred pound discrepancy."
"Discrepancy?" Bengali asked.
"Affirmative," came Lynx-O's answer. "Our speed is not sufficient for the amount of weight we're carrying. We should be going faster. It's imperative we have full speed to make this jump. Reset your calculations and on my word, execute compensation for inertia. We will be going to full burn."
Cheetara read the numbers as they flashed on her screen, her fingers rapidly entering each set into the mini-comp as they appeared on her monitor. In the background, Lynx-O's voice sounded the one minute mark, the thirty second mark, then fifteen.
Her fingers clamped tightly around the grips, her eyes trained on the velocity indicators as the red LED graphs bounced higher and higher.
Lynx-O said, "Ready on compensators....ten, nine, eight--"
Suddenly her vision burst into a blinding, spinning psychedelic rainbow of colors and sound. She screamed, a bolt of pain splitting through her skull, peeling away her mind-sight to another time and place. Her sixth sense ignited in a scarlet explosion...an explosion of the Feliner.
Tygra lay on the ground, trying to reach Pumyra. A monstrous green cloud smothered the craft, eating the fiery energy. Red eyes glowed as it turned toward the helpless pair of Thundercats. A low groan/growl rumbled from inside the vapor as it rose up like an angry cobra, its hunger still burning. It wanted more energy--life energy! And it surged forward like tidal wave.
Cheetara's frozen vocal cords drew tighter, her sight blanking out. Silence muffled her ears as she slumped forward. The next thing she knew, Lynx-O was calling her name over and over through the speaker.
Dully, she blinked as if awakening from sleep, feeling drained of all energy. Numbly she looked at the scope, saw the acceleration had taken place, and, that surprisingly, her pod and the Thunderstrike were still in one piece. A faint rustle spooked her, and she looked around, sensing something, someone else in the pod with her.
Warmth brushed against her arm and she saw the faint outline of hands slide away from the control handles. There was another in the pod with her! She half-turned, looking over her shoulder and suddenly, the invisible appeared. There, standing over her, was Aja.
###
Hands cupped around his mouth, he yelled, "MoR, where are you? MoR!"
Damn it! Now he was really going to get it from his father, he thought as he entered the same dismal clearing--yet again! Now he was lost as well as separated from his best friend. He should never have taken up this stupid challenge.
L'eng M'rath was forbidden territory because of some fables of demons and ghosts! Ha! What credashrap! He snapped a brittle branch off a dead tree and broke it into little pieces between his fingers. From what he'd seen, this miserable place wasn't haunted, it was merely a maze of trees that suffered from lack of sunlight and excess precipitation.
"MoR! This isn't funny! Answer me!"
A scream shot through the forest. He spun, his fur standing on end. "MoR!" The scream turned into the agonized cries of a cat. Electrified, he ran through the thick sawgrass, jumping over fallen logs and stone mortar debris, running toward the horrible sounds.
Winds suddenly churned, fog rolling across the naked ground. A grinding noise blended with the terrified shrieks, spurring him faster. Heart pounding, he cried, "MoR!" as he broke into another clearing, abruptly skidding to a halt, his fear abruptly changed to shock, then horror.
A miniature green tornado spun, engulfing his friend, his cries echoing through the barren woods. The sparkling fire-specks in the cloud swirled faster and faster, exploding with energy as the thing's grip closed tighter. Arcs of light hit the young leopard and he screamed in pain, convulsing as a dark green aura enveloped his body.
Horrified, Tygra watched his friend's flesh wither and dissolve off the skeleton, the bones then disintegrating into dust that was sucked up into the monster's gullet. Then it turned toward him.
It hesitated. Its glowing crimson eyes lingering on Tygra for several long seconds.
He sucked in his breath. Something cold had touched him--a greater, darker force had felt his soul.
You, a deep voice reverberated telepathically. You're the one I seek!
The monster reared up, roaring in delight, and surged at him.
A tidal wave of green rolled toward him, that same roar of delight ringing in his ears. Remembered fury and grief welled up inside him. "No," he breathed. "Not this time you bastard's spawn! I won't run!"
The creature loomed up over them, its snake-like tendrils reaching for him. A thrill of energy rippled over him as he gripped his bolo-whip, his thumb jamming the setting to full power.
Suddenly the tri-head burned white-hot, emitting a piercing whine that climbed higher and higher in pitch. With his remaining strength he hurled the weapon straight into the ugly thing's maw.
Fire exploded at the beast's center, the ectoplasmic body scattering under the force of overload. The blinding flash died and he blinked, looking up at where the monster had been.
He let go his breath, relaxing only slightly. It wasn't destroyed, its ecto-atoms merely dispersed. It would regroup, reform and be angrier than ever. All he had bought was a little bit of time. If the green ghost didn't get them, something else would--he could feel it.
Head pounding, he grimaced, the pain of his wounds resurfacing as his adrenalin surge subsided. Dark red saturated his stirrup boots, the deep lacerations on his knees slowly oozing away his life's blood. Gingerly, he touched the blood-encrusted gash on his forehead, feeling the matted fur going down the side of his face. He shivered, the coldness creeping into his muscles, its greedy fingers sinking deep into his body. Trembling, he slowly reached over to his unconscious companion.
She was clammy to the touch, her breathing frighteningly shallow.
"Pumyra," he called, feeling frantically for a pulse at the base of her neck. A faint flutter was all he could detect. "Pumyra...."
She was growing weaker. He could feel it through their Thundercat link. He had bought them time only to face the fact he was unable to help the healer, let alone himself.
There was no way to summon help, no way to aid her. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to; they were alone. She would die, he thought. At least she would not be the feast of some ugly netherworld creature.
"I'm sorry, Pumyra," he whispered, resting his head on the puma's chest. "So sorry...."
Her heartbeat was fading, the rasping sound in her chest growing fainter with each diminishing breath. Soon, only the low moan of the cold marsh wind passing through the barren tree branches filled the clearing. From out of nowhere a thin blanket of ash-gray fog appeared, creeping across the ground, spreading out like an icy shroud. Unable to fight the pain any longer, he closed his eyes, listening to the mournful winds. Then, ever so faintly, he heard a muted thump.
His eyes opened.
A footstep?
His cat intuition took over, telling him something or someone was watching. He managed to lift his head and look toward the twisted copse of trees.
In the shadows, like a dream-vision, stood a tigress clad in lavender, her hair wild, her crimson eyes burning through the gray gloom. In her hand was a glowing silver trident emblazoned with a sapphire cat's eye!
Cat's Eye! He tried to speak, but the words died on his tongue as his head fell forward.
###
With each passing minute, his misgivings about this mission grew stronger and stronger. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to stop the vicious cycle of worry that ate away at his heart. Dammit! He should have gone along, no matter what had been said or foreseen.
The pneumatic whoosh of the doors signaled someone had entered, and by the heaviness of the footfalls, he knew it was Panthro. Soon the great dark panther was beside his chair, his gaze locked on the computer map.
Gently, he laid a hand on Lion-O's shoulder. "I know. I'm worried too."
Lion-O merely nodded, his eyes not straying from the screen. Suddenly the words "Processing Simulation Data" appeared on the lower part of the screen; the blips on the map blurred, changing into a thin streak. Momentarily he held his breath, knowing the acceleration was taking place as projected. His eyes riveted on the single pulse of light, a subtle, weird feeling flashing through his bond from Cheetara. Something was wrong.
"You know," Panthro said softly, "worry won't ease this situation any."
He heard, but didn't answer, just kept staring at the flashing green dot. "Lion-O?"
The feeling vanished, his empathic rapport with his mate coming back to normal.
"Lion-O?" Panthro repeated. "What's wrong?"
He blinked, taking a deep breath. "Nothing," he replied, "and everything."
"You sensed something, didn't you?"
"For a moment, I thought I did, but--" Lion-O looked up at his old friend. "It was so fleeting. I feel nothing out of the ordinary now."
"Could be anxiety," Panthro said, crossing his arms. "It's hard to sit on the sidelines and watch." He stared at the screen again.
A heavy silence descended over the control room, bringing a sense of foreboding that you could almost touch.
Again, Lion-O gazed at the screen, feeling more impotent than ever when he noticed that the little green dot had become stationary. The Thundercats were at the west side of L'eng M'rath, just as he'd calculated they would be. Thoughts of sneaking to the Hovercat and heading out to join the rescue team crossed his mind, but he suppressed them, knowing the trip would be a long one at conventional jet speed. By the time he got there, it would probably be too late to help anyone. As much as he hated it, he had to sit and watch.
The control center doors whooshed open, interrupting the silence, and Lion-O half-turned, as did Panthro. A somewhat solemn Snarfer walked toward them.
"What is it, Snarfer?" Panthro asked. "Trouble with the cubs?"
"No--not exactly." The young snarf hesitated a moment, then held forth a scrap of paper. "I--I found this. I really think you guys should see it."
Panthro took the paper, scanned it and after a few seconds, scowled. "Of all the dang-blasted...." He thrust the note toward Lion-O.
He took it and as he read, his frown soon matched Panthro's. "Oh, great! Just what we need right now! Aja's stowed away on the Thunderstrike!"
###
"Is it wrong to want to save my mate's life?" she asked defiantly.
Bengali strode over to the women. "What in the twelve seas of ThunDERa are you doing here?"
Aja's gazed directly at the elder tiger as she quietly replied, "What do you think?"
Lynx-O came up to stand behind Bengali. "Aja, this is no routine mission," he said gently. "This is a very dangerous situation."
"And not a place for the inexperienced," Bengali added in barely restrained tone. "Time is crucial. We can't be hampered--"
"--by having a child to worry about!" Aja growled, the hackles on her back visibly rising. "How dare you!"
Cheetara winced at the waves of anger radiating from the young woman.
Bengali retorted. "Pumyra is dying!" Bengali retorted. "I can feel her life slipping away every second we waste standing here! We can't afford the time to baby-sit a tag-along like you."
"A tag-along?" she shot back. Her fists curled up as she bared her teeth. "You think that I'm here on some whim--a joy ride? Did it occur to you that I felt Tygra's pain? That he, too, is injured?"
"You couldn't feel squat from him! You don't even know what a real bonding is! You're--"
"No! You can't do this to me!"
"Aja," Lynx-O said, "it's for your safety. We are best-equipped to navigate this treacherous forest."
Grim determination gleamed in Aja's topaz eyes. "And I can enhance the team even more." She looked directly at Cheetara. "Look, I don't have your sixth sense or Lynx-O's sensitivity to the surroundings, but none of you have my supersense of direction or my tracking abilities."
Cheetara considered her argument a moment, mentally conceding that what she said was true. They did not have her internal compass, but still, it was too risky. "I don't think--"
"Please," Aja implored, "I don't have an empathic tie to Tygra like you do with Lion-O, but Tygra is still my mate. Please--let me try to help him. Please...."
Lynx-O lifted his head, his tufted ears moving slightly. "We could use her skills."
Bengali uncrossed his arms, the iciness in his blue eyes melting somewhat. "I--cannot argue her point."
Cheetara nodded, turning to Aja. After hearing the plea in her voice, she could not deny her wish. "Okay, then it's unanimous." A small smile of relief came from the younger woman. Cheetara put a hand on her shoulder. "But understand this, we must stick to our plan and orders must be followed. Got that?"
"Absolutely."
Cheetara clasped her shoulder, "Then, my friends, as Panthro would say--if we're going to do it--let's do it!"
"Thundercats, Ho!" they shouted in unison and headed for the dark curtain of shadows that was the border of L'eng M'rath.
###
Suddenly the heaviness of responsibility lifted from his shoulders, peace and a sense of freedom warming his heart, driving the tension from his body. Gods, this felt so good! He felt like a cub again!
Heat coursed though his soul, light opening his eyes. He was flying like an eagle over New ThunDERa. He grinned. He could see everything and everyone! Lion-O, Panthro, and Snarfer were in the control room fussing over a scrap of paper. There was Kit and Kat in the nursery tending to Lia and little Garthe.
By the gods! Garthe...his son...how much he'd grown! How he'd missed him. And Aja? Where was she?
Voices echoed through the clouds and he whirled, eyebrows rising in surprise. He was at the edge of a dark green glade, the rumble of storm clouds filling the chilly air. He was by the Thunderstrike? What was it doing here? Cheetara, Bengali, Lynx-O, and Aja were here too. What was going on?
No matter. He was glad to find them. He landed beside them, reaching to touch Cheetara's shoulder. His mouth opened, no sound coming out just as his fingers passed through her. Sudden fear choked him as he yanked back, gaping at his hand as if it didn't belong to him.
Tygra! a feminine voice echoed through the boiling clouds.
Startled, he whirled. White fog had filled the glade, obscuring his friends and mate. The ground turned to ice, the dark gray clouds overhead churning lower and faster. Before him, the misty silhouette of a woman appeared through the gray gloom. Slowly she walked toward him, her features growing more distinct with each step. He gasped, an emotional vise clamping around his heart, squeezing tighter as the vision became clearer. Emotional fires flowed through the remnants of a spiritual bond he thought long dead.
Tygra, it's me!
The vision cleared, and breathless, he stared at the woman's face. Her incredibly long mane flowed back from a dark orange crown accented by two large black stripes. Her crimson eyes glowed, enhanced by the cream-colored fur of her facial mask-markings that stood out against the base of orange fur, and her soft, dark red lips parted in a smile. "Tygra...."
"Fierra," he whispered as he beheld a face he thought he would never see again in his lifetime. He reached up, touching the side of her face, feeling the softness of her fur, and she bent to kiss his palm. Suddenly he pulled away from her, closing his eyes in denial.
The sights of L'eng M'rath burned in his brain. The place of the dead--the damned! This wasn't Fierra! She was taken by some Orion slavers to some part of the galaxy unknown to him. She was missing--not dead--therefore she couldn't be here.
"No!" he breathed. "Not this! You can't be here...not in the L'eng."
She grabbed his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh. "Tygra, look at me. Please."
He frowned. The voice sounded wrong somehow, a little higher than what he remembered. Suddenly, his vision clouded, blurring the beautiful face as nauseating pain washed thorough him.
"Tygra?" she called. "Tygra, can you hear me?"
He sucked in a deep breath, eyes closed tightly against the sickening flow of colors that swirled around him, rocking him to and fro. He swayed. The woman's hands gripped tighter, squeezing hard.
The current subsided, the acute pain of reality telling him he was still very much alive. He managed to open his eyes, the dizzying haze that obscured his comprehension finally evaporating.
He blinked. The tigress had changed. She was smaller, and now in a short, ragged purple dress that barely covered her well-rounded, feminine physique. Three large black stripes accented the crown of her orange-and- white mane. At first he couldn't place her, but then his gaze dropped and recognition sparked. She had a tail. Few families on old ThunDERa still carried that recessive trait, but Fierra's family was one of them. He tried to sit up, but the woman pressed him back down.
"By Jaga," he breathed, staring up at her face. "I don't believe it!"
"At first I didn't either," replied the tigress. "But you're no mirage."
"Tygreia--where--how--?"
She took a cold damp rag off his forehead, rinsing it out in a small bowl of liquid that had a definite herbal scent. "Take it easy," she said. "One question at a time. First, you and your friend are safe here." She blotted the cut on his forehead. "The 'where' is L'eng M'rath."
"I realized that after we crashed," he replied. "Where in the L'eng are we?"
She looked down at him, her face an impassive mask. "My home. It's an old temple-shrine. It's been our--my home for quite a while." She gazed into space and softly added, "An eternity, actually."
She turned away, going to her food larder. "Be assured we are safe here. The darkness outside cannot enter this sanctuary." She pointed to her trident propped in a corner of the small dwelling. Light brighter than a hearth fire radiated from it, illuminating the one room dwelling and more importantly, the still figure directly beneath it.
On a raised stone bench Pumyra lay, as if she were merely sleeping.
"Dear Jaga," he whispered, when he saw her face.
"She's badly burned, and her injuries are deep, but as long as she remains in the light, the Trident of Jaguaren will sustain her." Tygreia's gaze dropped to the stone floor. "I'm sorry, I don't have the magic to heal her." Her red-brown eyes again lifted to Tygra's face. "Who is she? Is she your...mate?"
"No," he answered softly, suddenly fearful of why she would ask such a question. "She's a friend and fellow Thundercat." Ignoring his pain, he sat up and gazed at the glimmering artifact.
Like the Sword of Omens, this Trident was legend and part of the Treasure of ThunDERa, mentioned only in the history of the Great Migration. This and a Staff and Scepter had been lost in a battle on old ThunDERa, supposedly never to be seen again.
But the Trident was here and so was Tygreia. Her question about Pumyra rattled inside his mind. "Tygreia, how did you get here? I mean--the
exodus--there was the mutant attack. I heard your ship was captured--"
"By slavers and that we were sold like dumb animals?" Her tail swished slightly, the memories obviously touching a nerve. "Oh, yes, we were. After Garthe surrendered, our ship was commandeered and the next thing we knew, we were slaves. They were taking us to another star system, but five of us managed to escape in a sleeper pod. We set the coordinates for ThunDERa--old ThunDERa. If we were going to die, we wanted it to be amongst the dust of our destroyed home." She paused, a pensive look stealing the sparkle from her eyes. "We must have drifted for a long time. You can imagine how surprised we were when our capsule opened and we found ourselves in L'eng M'rath."
"Five of you escaped?"
She looked at Tygra, but was unable to hide the grief any longer. "Yes, but--the others--are no more."
"No more?" A cold feeling traveled from his head to his heart to the pit of his stomach. In a low voice, he asked, "Was Fierra with you?"
Again, a faraway look came into the tigress' eyes. She turned away from from him, her voice cracking. "Yes, Tygra, she was."
###
He curled up into his true form, a reddish, featureless ball of ectoplasmic energy and hovered, frustration darkening his light. Through the endless centuries he'd watched ThunDERa grow, then die. How fitting that it had been a Thundercat who'd caused the planet's destruction by throwing the Sword of Plundar into ThunDERa's heart. But his hopes of freedom were dashed when the planet exploded and Ah-Shadeen's magic had continued to hold his personal hell together.
Steam hissed through the tomb, miniature fires exploding in mid-air at the thought of his sister. Impudent bitch! I'll get out of here--you'll see! I'll have your precious children for dinner and afterwards I'll use your bones to pick my teeth, he seethed. And I'll start with Tygreia!
But first he had to escape this timeless prison. He settled back, his mind's eye focusing on the outside world, zeroing in on the red star and black cougar-head symbol that hung on the boulder sealing his cave. That was the lock, a blatant reminder of his defeat. There was only one key to it and that key was always out of his reach.
If only the Sword of Omens was still in his grasp! He'd do more than destroy the Scepter of Fire this time! Balled fists of electricity flashed, white light erupting from his dark essence. Tygreia, you miserable little whelp! he roared. You'll serve me yet!
But suddenly his fury collapsed, him along with it as he changed himself into a dark fog, blending into the absolute blackness. Drops of water sizzled on the hot stone floor. Spent and miserable, he lay there feeling the futility of it all, the passion for vengeance dying down once more to simple resignation.
This was hopeless. He would never get out of this place.
His thoughts stopped. Something was approaching--something familiar, but his mood clouded his mind's sight. He shuddered, pushing all his emotions away so he could see the outside once more.
The same old craggy rock wall still surrounded his tomb and a nasty gray twilight filtered through the ugly clouds. Gnarled trees lined the path leading to this place, their limbs hanging down like skeletal hands, trembling as the wind swept over the dark snaking trail.
A small cloud of greenish mist flowed down the path and abruptly halting like a wave in mid-motion.
M'reth Sa? What happened to you, my pet?
The cloud swirled forward, sliding over the ground to stop before the tightly sealed cave. It twisted up into a column, transforming into the featureless green beast. A fingerless tendril snaked out to touch the stone beneath the ancient ThunDERian talisman, magical fire driving the wailing beast back.
You forget, my faithful one, that none but a ThunDERian noble may touch the seal. Now calm yourself and tell me why you are so small.
The cloud shot up, flowing down like a fountain.
You brought down a star craft and there were two cats in it.
Immediately the ghost-monster roiled with obvious excitement.
One disrupted your form! And--what? They were--Thundercats? You're sure?
The cloud boiled again and Barthaz' excitement sizzled in a rainbow shower of sparks. And both are at the she-cat's fortress! Quickly! You must show me! Now!
Immediately an image formed within his eye, and he saw his enemy's dwelling. Bitterness shriveled his shapeless form as he recognized her trappings. His sight turned and he saw the female puma, injured and dying, the rays of Jaguaren's trident protecting her. He snarled. She was of no use.
His vision turned and if a formless spirit could smile, he did. There was a male of the Tygris clan talking to the little witch, a red cat's head symbol on his tunic. His soul-self contorted with loathing as he watched the she-cat give him a bowl, steam rising from its contents.
How sickeningly domestic! he thought, then hesitated, focusing on the tiger's face. The greenish cloud spread flat as Barthaz's laughter rattled the thick stone door. By the dark hand of fate! It's him, the one from aeons ago. Hope swelled inside the dark sorcerer, more images from his faithful pet coming to his mind's eye.
At the edge of the L'eng, a young tigress led an old lynx, a white tiger and a female cheetah into the Forest of the Dead. Suddenly the image of the spotted she-cat rang out with such psychic strength it made him stop.
He focused on her, his expectations soaring even higher. That one! Yes! Through her I feel the power of the Sword of Omens! M'reth Sa! This is what I have been waiting for all these eons! Within the black crypt, the fires of anticipation burned bright as he conjured up all his strength.
Tell the ghost-walkers not to touch them, for my freedom is at hand. My revenge is at long last within my reach! Black lightning shot down from the nasty clouds as Barthaz commanded it to feed his pet, to make M'reth Sa grow in size and strength. Renew yourself, my faithful servant, and go forth. Use your powers and bring me the male at the she-cat's fort, for he shall be my key.
###
"I don't agree with what she did, but maybe she felt she had to do it," Panthro said as he slid into the vacated seat. "I've been hoping she would feel something, anything from Tygra--but not quite under these circumstances."
Lion-O stared at the scribbled note again. Gone with Thunderstrike. I am needed on the rescue mission. Don't worry--Aja. He crumpled it in his fist. "I know their relationship hasn't been easy. I was hoping when Tygra came home that he and Aja would be able to grow closer--maybe establish some kind of spiritual rapport."
"With the history of their pairing," Panthro said as he reached across the control console, "that would be a miracle. She seems willing--"
"But he's not." Lion-O nodded, thinking back to the way Tygra had been forced on Aja and the emotional scars they both carried from that fateful day. Many times throughout the last three years he had wished the Sword of Omens could cure their pain. This was one of those times.
The doors swooshed open, and WilyKit and WilyKat entered the room.
"Any word from the Thunderstrike?" WilyKat asked as he and his sister approached the console.
"Yes, they bounced a signal off the third moon just as we agreed," Lion-O replied. "The acceleration was successful."
"The Thunderstrike's transponder is now silent. That means they're at the L'eng," Panthro said, turning toward Lion-O. "Without a tele-satellite, we're blind now, as well as deaf."
Lion-O gazed at the computer-generated geographical image on the main screen. All he could feel was anxiousness, not sure if it was his own or Cheetara's. For a long while no one said a word, the humming of the consoles the only sounds in the room.
Suddenly Kit said, "There's something really evil out there."
Puzzled, Lion-O and the others looked at her.
Kit's crimson eyes were riveted on the monitor, a shiver rippling down her arms, making her fur visibly stand on end. "And it's been waiting a long time for us. I can feel it," she murmured, "and before this is over, someone is going to die."
Lavender light suddenly glared to life from the ceiling's apex and a glistening bubble appeared, growing larger as it rapidly descended to the floor. Instantly recognizing it, Lion-O approached it as it settled and dissolved to reveal the Thundercat sorceress, Jagara. Her lilac robes billowed slightly as she levitated inches above the shiny steel-blue floor. Her soft ivory face was drawn, her violet eyes betraying worry. But Lion-O detected something more from her--the scent of fear.
"Your prediction, young WilyKit, may come to pass," she said. "Forgive me for intruding without warning, Lord Lion-O, but you must go to L'eng M'rath. All of New ThunDERa is in grave danger if Barthaz is released." Her eyes closed in weariness, the curved horns of her helmet glowing as if she were calling upon the strength of nature itself. "Already I feel his disturbance, his anticipation and hunger for revenge. He will try to lure a Thundercat to open his tomb and if he succeeds, he will be free and New ThunDERa will be plunged into chaos. You cannot permit this to happen."
"Jagara, I'll face any danger to protect my people, but I was warned not to go into L'eng M'rath. I was told that if I did it would bring about the danger of which you speak."
"You must go! Your very absence could tip the scales of fate. You are the heir in a long and ancient blood-line and only the descendant of an ancient can stop Barthaz."
"My absence...?" New fears wrapped around Lion-O as he thought of those he'd just sent to the L'eng. He wished now that he'd taken the time to ask Cheetara what she'd seen in her vision. "Then I must leave immediately!"
"The journey is long, but my magic will vitalize you for your long voyage there." Her fingers moved, blue magic radiating out from them. Her aura danced around Lion-O, soaking into his body, energizing him. "One more thing," she said, as he headed for the door. "You must leave the Sword of Omens behind."
He stopped in his tracks. "How can I go without the help of the Sword?"
"When the time is right, you will know what to do. Go now! Hurry!" The sorceress grimaced and swayed, her mystic glow almost fading out. "I must go back to the Great Beneath. Hurry, Lion-O, the storm brewing within the L'eng is growing stronger."
Her arms made an arc, and the bubble formed around her once more. Her plea echoed as it is solidified. "Hurry or it will be too late," she repeated and the sphere carried her away.
Lion-O grasped the hilt of the Sword and pulled it from the golden claw shield that hung at his side. It vibrated with the warmth of life, the ruby cat's eye sparkling in the fluorescent lights as he looked at the mystic weapon's ageless beauty.
Panthro rose from the console, his face betraying his apprehension. WilyKit and WilyKat looked up, their expressions reflecting his concern.
In a deep, soft voice he said, "Panthro, please take care of this for me." And he handed the sword to the panther.
"It's almost dark, Lion-O. Let me go with you. It'll take you at least fourteen hours to get there and we could take the Thunderclaw--"
"No. If the worst happens, I need you here." He grasped his friend's arm, feeling the big man's tension. "I know you don't like this."
"That's putting it mildly," Panthro replied, clasping Lion-O's arm in reciprocation.
"The Sword will warn you. If I fail to stop Barthaz, you must immediately execute the settlement evacuation plan and head to Third Earth." Lion-O turned to the kittens. "Kit, Kat--take care of Snarfer and the cubs, okay?"
"We will, Lion-O," Kit replied solemnly. She grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "We promise. Be careful."
Lion-O met her gaze, giving her a small smile, then hurried for the exit and the hangar. His intuition burned dark and uncertain inside him because on this mission the Sword of Omens would not be at his side to help him.
###
For several seconds, she gazed down at his face. It was best for him to rest, she thought. It was late and they had talked for quite a while. He did need to conserve his strength, for he was in pain and had lost a lot of blood. She said a prayer of thanks that she had been able to stem the flow of blood from his wounds and bind them with healing poultices. But, was it enough?
Wearily, she turned toward Pumyra, her concerns growing tenfold. The puma's skin was blistered and the fur on her face was partially burned off. Deeper yet, Tygreia sensed internal trauma and there was no healing magic here to help her. Only the trident's aqua rays sustained her now and if that power was removed, she would die. But that might not happen. Perhaps someone would come looking for them.
Hopes of leaving L'eng M'rath stirred within her. Tygra had said there were others, ThunDERians and Thundercats, now living on New ThunDERa. Surely they would come to rescue him and the puma. They would be armed to fight the nether-forces, prepared to enter this place of shadows without becoming lost. Quickly she stifled the thoughts, remembering how many times before she'd thought escape was within reach, only to have the Dark One prove her wrong.
Tygreia stared at an empty corner, listening to the silence inside the tomb. She could hear Tygra breathing softly--in and out. It was so strange to suddenly have warm, flesh-and-blood company. For what seemed like eons, she had been alone, trapped in this place that did not know time. Only her magicks and courage had kept her alive. Again, her gaze turned to the sleeping tiger and she lightly brushed her fingers down his cheek, her emotions kindling memories as real and vivid as yesterday.
Tygreia clutched a fist to her chest trying to calm the swell of anticipation growing inside her. The arena of Katar was filled to capacity with every noble, tribe representative and kinsman on the face of THunDERa, and for a good reason too. Today was the day of the clan annointment trials. She, along with a handful of other young nobles, had gone through the long week of rigorous tests and proven themselves. Today they could rightfully claim their titles as full-fledged Thundercats.
Her fingers traced around the new red and black snarling cougar-head symbol now adorning the bodice of her mauve battle uniform. She had worked hard for this, but what was to come next was what she had really been waiting for, even more than her annointment as a Thundercat.
Cheers from the crowd came through the open doorway when she heard her name called. Quickly and proudly, she strode out onto the games area, head held high. The crowd hushed as she walked to the center and she smiled in pride. Because she was small, no one in her circle of friends had expected her to pass the contests so easily, let alone have the chance that now opened up before her. That was their mistake, she thought.
This was it--the contest to determine the new leader of the Tygris Clan. Finally Great-Uncle Siberi had stepped down as chieftain. Now a new leader would be chosen from the top two of her clan and she was one of those two.
She stopped, smartly facing the royal observation box, and bowed. In her mind, she knew who the new leader was going to be.
Though he was blind, Old Claudus, Lord of the Thundercats, acknowledged her, then signaled for the other finalist to enter the field. Tygreia turned, her eyes riveted on the opposing grounds entrance. Shock twisted the center of her soul as her ex-lover--Tygra--entered the field.
Anger still seethed through a wound she thought had healed long, long ago and tears trailed down the white fur of her cheeks. Grabbing the golden net of Jaguaren, she threw it over her shoulders, its golden glow of protection surrounding her. Quickly she exited the small structure, heading into the chilly, dark indigo forest.
Try as she might, her tears would not stop as she remembered the pain and humility of that day's defeat. So many dreams had been shattered. How she had hated Tygra--and yet, she still loved him. Why, in all the cosmos, did he have to show up? Had fate not crushed her soul all those years ago? Had not her love been so casually taken for granted, then tossed aside like a worn-out garment? Damn it! Damn him! Damn the world! He was out of her life...supposedly dead. What had brought him back--especially here and now?
'Greia...? came a woman's whisper.
"Go away! I don't want to deal with you right now!"
'Greia, please, let me apologize.
A powerful wave of anger threatened to explode inside her breast. "Leave me!" she snarled. "You broke our trust just as you've broken all other trusts we've had in the past. I want nothing more to do with you!"
An ash-white fog crept across the ground, swirling up until it coalesced into a felinoid shape, yellow eyes burning from within. "Please don't drive me away...not now. Not when he's so close." The colorless image of a taller, long-maned female tiger materialized from the mists. She held out her arms, her hands closing to fists. "I lost control when I saw him. I won't ever take over your body again without permission. Please, let me stay, sister."
Tygreia's tail twitched back and forth, pity subduing her fury and heartache. Her pace slowed. "Very well, Fierra," she sighed, wiping the wetness from her face. "It seems we still need each other--too much."
###
She shivered, rubbing her arms, briefly glancing over her shoulder. Again the eerie feeling that something beyond the darkness was watching them haunted her sixth sense.
Before them a small hill rose up, blocking the view of what lay ahead. Her heart raced as they started up it, her eyes searching every shadow, her uneasy feeling growing stronger with each step she took.
They finally reached the windswept crest and stopped, each of them standing as still as the rocks.
Miniature pyramids of eroded stones dotted the flat land. Wooden masts, some standing, some broken, were interspersed amongst them. Ragged remnants of leather and cloth bearing faded clan-crests softly flapped in the breeze. In the center, the tall statues of the ancient Meer-keepers still watched over the graves of the fallen, their features eroded by the centuries. On the ground, rusted shields and broken weapons lay half-buried in the rocky soil.
Cheetara shut her eyes, trying to stop the tears from welling up. The land cried out with such pain and anguish it was almost overwhelming. The grief of so many souls lost to this empty land reached so deep into her psychic sense that she could barely shut it out.
"I sense such...despair," Lynx-O whispered.
"And well you should, old friend," Bengali said low voice. "For we have entered the battleground--Amasa."
"Amasa?" Aja asked.
"The land of lost-life, souls lost to Barthaz," Cheetara murmured, fighting the ache rising in her heart.
Aja looked frightened. "What do you mean by that?"
Lynx-O put a hand on Aja's shoulder. "Remember our history lessons. After the Great Migration, Barthaz came to ThunDERa to conquer our warring tribes. Ah-Shadeen and Leonnas, brother and sister, brought our tribes and clans together to fight him--right here on this spot. Many a ThunDERian died that day. The battle was so horrible the ground ran red with our kinsmens' blood, but they defeated the dark sorcerer and his followers."
"The unification of ThunDERa and the creation of the nobility," Aja said. "That was the beginning of civilization as we know it."
Lynx-O continued. "Legend says that it was here Ah-Shadeen tricked Barthaz and imprisoned him in a crypt of black rock. Leonnas then sealed it with star-fire to assure that he would never escape and cause any ThunDERian brother or sister to fight against each other again."
Cheetara nodded. "The story also said that only a noble could free Barthaz. Ah-Shadeen then cursed this land, saying that the souls of the dead warriors would protect the crypt to prevent anyone from finding and freeing Barthaz. That's the reason why this place looks so eerie."
"Which makes me wonder if any of that is true," Bengali said. "We've been going for hours. We should have heard or seen something by now." He sniffed, looking at a faded emblem on a tattered flag. "So far, everything has been quiet."
"So, that part of the legend is a lie," Aja remarked, earning a glare from the tiger. "This could be no more than a spot of dead land."
"I don't know," Lynx-O replied. "Even lies have roots in the truth." Cheetara rubbed her arms, a chill traveling through her body. She glanced around expecting to see eyes appear in the surrounding shadows. "Myth or not," she said, "we can't stand here. Aja, which direction do we take?"
The tigress glanced around, almost as if she were tuning into her surroundings. Her nose wrinkled and she pointed across the heart of the burial ground. "The crash sight lies in that direction."
Cheetara took a deep breath. "Very well, lead the way."
As Cheetara followed the young tigress down the rocky slope, the eerie feeling intensified, her anxiety rising like a fever.
The wind picked up again, its mournful howl grating on her nerves. Suddenly her ears twitched, and she looked from side to side. She heard laughter--macabre, wicked laughter--carrying in the wind. She glanced briefly over her shoulder at Lynx-O, but he gave no reaction.
If there was something out there, surely he would hear it too, but he said nothing. She listened again, but there was only the mournful sigh of the wind. The laughter was gone. She shook her head, blinking her eyes. Maybe she was hearing things. Maybe this place was playing on her imagination, she thought, and forced herself to relax. But though she calmed her fears, she still couldn't shake the feeling that their every move was being watched.
###
Not a cloud in the sky, he thought, glancing at the distant scattering of lights in the indigo heavens. How beautiful it was. With everything so serene, who would imagine that a crisis was upon them? For a moment he found himself doubting whether the Thundercats should ever have tried to reclaim their lost planet. Was New ThunDERa going to prove more dangerous than Third Earth? Maybe it would have been easier to divert the scattered remnants of their people to Third Earth.
No matter, they were here now and it was today he had to deal with, not what might have been.
He glanced at the chronometer, seeing he had seven more hours of travel--seven more hours before he would even reach the area where the L'eng was located. And then he still had to get inside that demon's circle where machines malfunctioned and went berserk. At that moment, his whole effort seemed futile. By the time he got there....
Suddenly, his ears perked up at a faint bell-like sound that circulated in the rapid winds. It was strange, very sweet and, so...alluring. He checked the laser-scope, and saw nothing below the ship but open water. Still the sound persisted, growing louder with every air-mile he covered.
After a few minutes, an island came into visual range, but sensors indicated nothing out of the ordinary. It was evident the song was coming from the island because the closer he got to it, the clearer the lovely sound became.
As intriguing as it was, he didn't have time to investigate, so he tapped the throttle even though it was already wide open.
The melody persistently drifted into his ears and into his mind, singing in an ethereal voice that blocked out the rush of the wind. He glanced at the cabin chronometer, then immediately frowned, shaking his head. No, he thought, he couldn't stop. He would check this out--later!
Still, the delicate notes flowed through his head, the harmony as soft as a woman's touch, beckoning him to stop and rest. A sleepiness caressed him, making his eyelids grow heavy, and he looked out at the dark island. "Maybe--just a minute wouldn't hurt," he murmured. "Stop just long enough to stretch a moment." Slowly he reached, grasping the throttle-grip, easing it off.
Gently, he nosed the Hovercat downward to land moments later on a broad band of shoreline.
He stepped out of the cockpit, the sweet music instantly surrounding him, filling him with pleasure. Eyes half-closed, he stood and listened, basking in the sound. He wanted to stay and listen to this wonderful voice forever.
Invisible hands massaged his stiff neck and tense shoulders, smoothing down the fur of muscular arms. The wind-song swelled, the ethereal touch caressing his face and going down his chest.
Come and and stay with me.... it whispered.
Eyes open to mere slits, he saw a shadowy form glide around him, felt her soft lips brush against his. He reached for her, but she kept just beyond his grasp. The faint outline sailed toward a thicket of palms, its laughter sounding like bells.
His eyes opened wide. It was the source of the music--it must be! He had to have her--had to see the beautiful creature that made this music. He started for the shrubbery.
"No!"
The beautiful sound wobbled as that one strong word shattered the enchantment. Abruptly, Lion-O whirled, blinking as if a hypnotic spell had broken. He stared, not believing his eyes. There on the shore, by the still glowing Hovercat, stood a small person.
"To go into the thicket will condemn you and give Barthaz the edge he needs to win. You must leave this place while you can, Lord Lion-O, before the Chime sings again!"
"Chime?" Sufficiently spooked, he headed for the Hovercat. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"
"Those questions are unimportant. What is important is that you leave here, now!"
"But--"
"On the Isle of Forgetfulness, you'll never find the Chime. Like a rainbow's end, she is elusive. Many have forgotten their destination when they have heard her song. Many have died looking, never to find her. Their bones cover this island."
Lion-O was almost to the Hovercat. The stranger was a cub who barely looked to be seven seasons old, but he spoke like an adult. He had the marking of a Leo, yet he bore the spots of a Cheetah and he felt...familiar. Lion-O asked again, "Who you are?"
The cub hesitated, then said softly, "I am part of what might have been."
"You must leave! Now!"
"But...." "Please...I've said too much. The Nereide calls and I must obey. Farewell, fa--Lord Lion-O." The boy turned, running to plunge into the ocean and disappear beneath the waves.
This was no cub! Immediately Lion-O leaped into the cockpit, revved the engine and took off, quickly putting distance between himself and the island. Glancing at the receding island's image in the mini-scanner, he inhaled deeply, slowly letting out his breath, realizing what had almost happened.
Shaking free of the terrible thought, he sped toward his destination. From out of nowhere, black clouds had appeared in the night sky, blotting out the stars, distant lightning flashing in a tempest that was not of nature's making. Somewhere, something--or someone--was angry, and he didn't need the Sword of Omens to see it.
###
No stars or sun shone above, no insects whirred nor beasts called and there was little or no vegetation. There was no feel of life, only the low moan of the wind and the musty smell of old death. And it was cold--so cold. She shivered, rubbing her chilled hands together before holding them closer to the small fire.
She glanced around the deathly silent area, her nerves screaming at her to run away and disappear into the darkness. Invisible eyes hidden in the perimeter shadows seemed to bore into her back and her mind. The urge to leave this gods-forsakened place was strong, but she dared not show her fear, because if she did, Bengali would belittle her again.
"There's an usually high electric charge in the air," she heard Lynx-O say. She didn't turn, but knew they were coming from behind the wreckage. "Very unusual energies," he added.
Gods, old man, she thought, there was energy all around them--evil energy! It was so heavy you could cut it with a dough-knife!
"Maybe the mega-condenser went critical," Bengali said.
She stifled a sarcastic laugh. What an idiot!
"No," Lynx-O answered. "If it were that, this area would have been vaporized. It was an overload. Tygra's bolo-whip, perhaps?"
"Then they put up a fight," Bengali said, "and lost."
"Could be. I don't think they'd leave the proximity of the Feliner on their own. Something or someone must've taken them."
"And here we sit wasting time," Bengali growled, "because someone was tired!"
"Bengali," Lynx-O admonished, grabbing his arm to take him to the opposite side of the wreck.
She pouted, casting a wicked glance at the two retreating cats. Tough ear-leather, Bengali, she mentally snarled. All the way, he'd been a pain in the ass, harping that she was taking too long, that she had to move faster.
Her lower lip trembled, her gaze returning to the fire. Didn't he realize she was doing the best she could? Didn't he realize she had no emotional bond to Tygra, that she couldn't tell where the hell he was or what he was doing? All she could do was follow what her super-sensitivity told her. Besides, he was a Thundercat--she wasn't.
Save for Lord Lion-O and Cheetara, she felt so out of place with the nobles. They were royalty and she a mere commoner. They were beautiful and powerful, she was only average, unimportant, small....
Her gaze fell to the ground again, the hurt cutting across her soul and she fought back the tears.
"Aja?"
Her head snapped up. Cheetara was bending close, her concern very apparent. For a fleeting moment, Aja thought she looked like her mother. She blinked, hoping her friend hadn't seen the wetness in her eyes.
Cheetara knelt down. "Are you all right?"
"That's the flattest 'yeah' I've heard since WilyKat admitted to cutting his whiskers," Cheetara said.
Aja scrambled for an answer. "Well, it's this place--it feels so confusing. So much energy is flowing through here, it's hard to concentrate. I can't sense anything from Tygra, nor can I see his kinetic trail. It's like he's disappeared."
"And Pumyra too?"
She nodded. "The only thing I see is a faint trail of dull silver light."
"Dull silver light," Bengali repeated as he and Lynx-O joined the two women. He snorted. "It's probably the high density energies from the exploded fuel units that you see."
"Footprints? Whose?"
"Well...." She studied them, realizing they were definitely smaller than Tygra's or Pumyra's.
When she didn't answer, Bengali snorted. "Bah! You're seeing things, little one."
She caught the withering glance Cheetara gave the white tiger and inwardly cheered. "No," she said stubbornly, "I know what I see. It's a line of faint patches and they're leading away from here." She pointed to a path that split a cluster of dead trees.
"Do you think it's the trail we want?" Cheetara asked.
She looked up at the older cats, seeing the distrust in Bengali's face. "Right now it's all we've got."
"Then we take it." Cheetara stood, glancing up at the wrecked Feliner. "Let's go, Cats. Our rest period is up, and we'd better start moving."
"Before we become sitting targets," Lynx-O added, then hesitated a moment. "Has anyone felt a presence--like someone is watching us?"
Cheetara nodded. "I've sensed it for quite a while now."
"So have I," Bengali added. "Also, have you noticed we still haven't encountered any paranormals in our travels?"
"Yes, and I don't think luck has anything to do with it," Lynx-O replied.
"Unfortunately, neither do I," Cheetara said, motioning for the others to break camp. "But let's not wait here to find out. Come on. Let's go."
As Lynx-O and Cheetara walked away, Aja stood, meeting the white tiger's harsh gaze. "I hope this isn't the wrong path," he said.
"To tell you the truth, Bengali," she answered evenly, "so do I. Don't forget to put out the fire." And she headed for the mouth of the trail leading into the Deadwood Forest.
There in the soft earth, the faint silver patches glowed in the soil. Swallowing her fear, she took the lead at the entrance, letting her super-sight focus on the trail, and then she set out.
###
Loving fingers brushed along his face. A voice, low and husky, whispered into his ears, and he thought he heard his name. He sighed softly and turned away, snuggling down into the cottony softness in an attempt to ignore the phantom intrusion.
The wispy breath persisted, again calling his name, and he frowned, trying harder to ignore it so he could stay in his dreamworld. Instead of fading, it grew louder.
"Dammit, Tygreia!" he snarled, and opened his eyes. "What the--?" He froze, a chill penetrating through his veins to his bones. Slowly he sat up and looked around. Black stone polished to mirror smoothness surrounded him, yellow torches spewing smoke and fumes.
Tygra, the whispery voice called, its echo fading in the chamber.
His fur rippled with another chill, his hand going to his mouth. He recognized that sweet voice.
Tygra, please--free me....
"Fierra!" he called. He waited, listening, but there was no answer, only the strange low moan of the wind filling the chamber. He rose, surveying the strange black walls, seeing nothing but his reflection in the smooth shiny rock. Suddenly prickles of excitement touched his nerves and he turned, his eyes going wide!
Like a reflection on the polished stone's surface, Fierra floated, her hands pushing against the surface.
"Fierra!" he yelled, hitting the wall. His hands pressed against the barrier, his fingers spreading over the hot mirror-rock.
"Help me," she pleaded. "Save me!"
"Where are you?"
"In the tomb...so black--so eternally black."
"What tomb? Where?"
"Trapped...he comes. Please...help me...."
Suddenly the torches blew out in a blast of frigid air, the blackness enfolding him. Arms protecting his face, he fought the howling wind, shouting into it. "Fierra, where are you?"
Lightning cracked against the walls, thunder drowning out the voice. Driving gales blew across the infinite black, pushing him back, almost crushing him against the stone. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, the terrible force pulling at his flesh, pounding against his body.
Red eyes burned into his mind, five sharp claws slicing across his soul. Pain burst up his legs, blood soaking his uniform, burning like acid on his skin.
Jagged lightning branched out, bright and fearsome across a turbulent sky, more thunder echoing his anguish. Hideous demon laughter bounced through the chamber, a black cloud gathering over him. It wrapped around him, the stinking thing merging with his body, consuming his spirit.
Electric terror twisted his guts and he screamed, "Noooooo!"
He sat bolt-upright, heart pounding like a power-hammer inside his head. Gasping, Tygra rubbed his forehead, fighting the disorientation of the nightmare sleep. Memory gradually came back--the Feliner, the crash, Pumyra! Tygreia had found them, had brought them here. He shuddered, fingers running through the top of his mane as he brought the effects of the bad dream under control.
He let out a slow, ragged breath, some of the tension draining away. His shoulders sagged as he rubbed the back of his stiff neck.
The images subsided, but his situation was no dream. He knew where he was, but what time was it? How long had he been out?
Steeling himself, he swung his legs over the edge of the stone slab that served as his bed. Pain flared down his lower body, a stiff and swollen feeling consuming all sensation from his knees to his toes. Frightened, he lifted the drape covering his legs. His stirrup boots were gone and blood-stained strips of cloth held spider-web and herb poultices over the gashes in his knees.
He held his breath and forced himself to move, tears of pain stinging his eyes as he bent his knees until his feet finally touched the floor. He sat there, letting the waves of pain subside, wondering if he could actually walk. There was no choice, so he pushed up off the table.
Once standing, he shuffled over to Pumyra, tenderly touching his fingers against the base of her neck. Relief swept over him as he detected a faint flutter of a pulse, but his feeling was short-lived. He stared at her face, pity filling his heart. It was best she was unconscious, he thought, judging her burns to be quite severe.
He studied the glowing trident beside her, remembering Tygreia's words that as long as she remained within the weapon's aurora, she would be sustained. But how long could this ancient artifact maintain its stasis field? How long could the two of them survive in this dismal place? For that matter, how long had Tygreia been here? His hand dropped to his side, and he wondered where she was.
Tygreia. It was as though she hadn't changed, was still young and beautiful. It seemed like years since he had faced her on the challenge field. How well he remembered it. A leader had to be strong no matter what the odds, and he had used her one weakness--her temper--to defeat her. He'd never meant to hurt her, but he'd had to use what he knew against her.
He snapped out of his reverie and glanced around, his cat-sight searching the dimness of the room. Some rusty metal rods were propped in the corner near the door and he went to them, selecting one that would make a suitable walking aid.
He tapped it on the stone floor, testing its strength before putting his full weight on it.
Rain began to pelt on the sanctuary's roof, the wind gusting so hard it rattled the heavy wooden door. Thunder rolled and the wind buffeted the door even harder. Worry creased his brow as Tygreia was out in this horrible weather. If anything happened to her.... He stopped the thought. Instead he turned to head for the food larder to get something to eat.
Tygraaaa....
He froze, chill-bumps prickling the hair on his neck.
Tygra....
Stunned, he faced the thornwood door for several long seconds, waiting. The harsh weather howled even louder, the rain hammering harder. "It was the wind," he muttered, turning away. "Only the wind."
"Tygra...help me...."
He spun back toward the door and gasped, "Dear Jaga!" A pool of greenish light gathered in the center of the burnt-brown door, the glow transforming into a face.
"Tygra--please, you must help me."
Shaken, he stumbled back a step, a siren wail of intuition blazing danger warnings inside his head.
"I'm a prisoner. Please, free me."
"Fierra!" he cried. He reached out, the vision disappearing just as he touched it. Clear, wet slime oozed down the door where it had appeared and he stood, gaping at the jelly-like substance sliding down the polished wood.
Prisoner? Twin storms of hope and fear clashed within his breast, the remnants of his severed bond now burning like fire.
The ooze moved, greenish light pulsing inside it and Fierra's voice sounded once more, eerie and so far-away. "The tomb--so black. Help me, Tygra. Free me from the tomb. Free me."
He stared at the icky slime on his fingertips, his mind in turmoil. She was here--but this couldn't be right. Tygreia had said she was dead. But what if she weren't dead? What if she were truly a prisoner?
He stared at where she had appeared, the pain in his heart overcoming the logic of his mind, and he knew the fragments of his bond did not lie this time. Fierra was near and he had to--no--would find her and and do everything he could to free her. He reached for the handle and turned it, following the voice from the past through the open doorway.
###
Gray clouds scudded low in the gloomy sky, the chilly air whipping across the wet ground. How she wished she could absorb some of the Net's magic to help her endure this miserable place, she thought, stepping over a narrow rivulet. Rain dripped from the naked tree branches into the frigid puddles that now lined the path. Cold drops of water fell onto her head and running down her back. She growled, shook the water off of her head and hated the rain even more. How she wished she could just leave. But even with the recent events, to escape this place was still an impossible dream.
Foolish girl, she chided herself. No one, not even a Thundercat, could safely reach the heart of L'eng M'rath, let alone leave it.
The rumble in her empty stomach told her it was time for breakfast, or rather what she guessed would be breakfast time. The clock had stopped the day she'd landed in this horrid place, and all she had was her body clock to tell morning from night. She hefted the sack, getting a better grip, hoping she had gathered enough food. One of her guests would be hungry, too, if he was still the same as she remembered him. In the before-days, Tygra could eat an equinoderm, trunk and all! He had slept peacefully all night and the medicinal herbs did tend to increase the appetite.
She trudged up the slope, wondering how much Tygra had changed. At one time, long ago, she had known everything about him. He had been the most important person in the universe to her.
Funny, she could remember everything so clearly.
Cats' Lair of the Northern Region of Ty was warm with the festive air of Amaztide. Tygreia rubbed the fog off the frosty pane of her bedroom window and looked toward the forest and the setting sun. The winter harvest fires burned, coloring the cold sky of Kirnartian a golden brown.
Excitement filled her, and she could hardly stand to wait another minute. He--Tygra--was coming to her father's fortress and would stay through the Amazday celebration.
It had been a long, dull fall after the exciting summer she'd spent at the Royal Lair. There, she and her sister Fierra had met Tygra and another cub named Panthro. Immediately they had become great friends, studying, honing their skills and just enjoying each other's company.
The memories filled her with such happiness! There was their hike into the Silver Hills where they nearly captured a plumagi-bird. Then, there was the time she and Tygra had stolen away from the others at Catchman's Strand. Just her and Tygra! They caught no fish that day. At fifteen summers, she was in love and her future looked as bright as the sun.
Now he was coming here to her home! Too bad he had to bring her sister back with him. She still thought it wasn't fair that Fierra got to stay longer at the Royal Lair.
She gazed at the sky again. The sun was dipping behind the clouds on the horizon now, the dying light bathing them and the snow in red. A tinge of worry creased her brow. He and Fierra should have arrived by now.
Suddenly, bells jingled and she bolted from her room, beating the servants to the reception hall. She keyed open the door and there stood Tygra and Fierra with two of the Royal Lair guards standing silently behind them.
Gallantly he bowed and said, "We have arrived, M'lady. Are you prepared?"
Grim reality soured her memory and she laughed bitterly to herself. "Prepared? No, Tygra, but I should have been. I was so blind...so stupid. I should have seen it, should have known."
That evening, Tygra told her of his pairing with her sister, his words cutting through her heart like a razor, leaving her soul to bleed.
Tygreia, please understand. I love you but not like I love Fierra. You and I are just good friends.
Good friends! That's all? Hadn't that summer meant anything to him? What about his words, his warm touch? The salt of tears stung her eyes, remembered anger swelled up inside, the hurt reopening old wounds.
Damn him! She'd been willing to give her heart to him and he'd used her --used her, then tossed her aside like an old shoe! She hated him! By the gods--how she hated him!
Her shoulders drooped, her eyes squeezing shut to stop the tears. Yes, she hated him, yet she'd never stopped loving him, even after all the pain he'd caused her.
The path to her domicile turned and she started up it. As she approached the small stone shelter, her pace slowed. Something was wrong. Her eyes went wide as she realized the door was hanging partly open.
"Oh, no," she murmured, dropping the sack and running the rest of the way.
She burst into the small room. "Tygra? Tygra!"
Except for Pumyra's still form and the light of the Trident, the room was empty. The bloodstained shroud she'd used to cover Tygra lay crumpled on the floor. She grabbed it up, holding it close as if it could tell her what had happened. The door creaked, slamming shut behind her, and she spun, her heart going into her throat. The drying vestiges of green ooze covered the wooden surface.
Almost at once the shimmering soul-self of her sister took form beside her.
"'Greia, Tygra is in grave danger."
"No joke!" She pointed to the door.
Fierra stopped, almost going transparent at the sight. "No! M'reth Sa?"
"Can you see into the trident? Does it tell you what happened?"
Fierra turned, staring into the ancient weapon's aura.
Seconds passed and Tygreia waited, wishing she knew how to look into the light and see what her sister could see.
"Yes," Fierra finally said. "It was M'reth Sa. He took my form and is leading Tygra into the Forest of the Dead--to Barthaz!"
Her heart nearly froze. "No! We've got to stop him!" She reached for the Trident.
Fierra's cold grip encircled her wrist. "No, the Trident says it must stay to protect the puma. It--says there is a different way, but you must trust me. Let me inside and I will guide you."
"I trusted you before," she replied. "Look where it got me."
"'Greia, I know a lot has happened between us in the past, a lot you hate me for, but more than Tygra's life is at stake. You must let me in."
Tygreia hesitated, not wanting the discomfort of another spirit inside her. Yet she knew she had to trust her sister. Solemnly she nodded. "Very well, but be quick--before I change my mind."
Fierra embraced Tygreia, her non-corporeal form glowing as she merged into her. Intense cold enveloped Tygreia, then the chill melted away as she absorbed the spirit. Shivering, she swayed slightly, but quickly regained her balance. Her head came up, her eyes burning crimson.
In her mind she saw M'reth Sa impersonating her sister, floating before a mesmerized Tygra, leading him down a barren path.
With great effort, she relinquished control of her body to Fierra and left the stone structure. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her as she headed into the darkness of L'eng M'rath. This was no challenge, no contest. She had to get to Tygra before Barthaz, or all would be lost.
###
The frigid wind blew harder, whipping his mane against his face, biting through his fur. Teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, he struggled against it, fighting to keep going forward. Lightning crashed all around him, the wind-storm clattering the dead tree branches, rain pelting down like bullets. The howl of the wind sliced into his nerves.
Suddenly, icy fog oozed up from the ground, churning around his feet, its ghostly hands reaching up to grab and claw at his bleeding legs. Eyes wide he stared down at the stuff, unable to move. Terrible wails and moans assaulted his ears, dozens of yellow eyes appearing all around him in the inky shadows. Shaking, he gripped his crutch with both hands, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the terrifying sight and sound.
"Fierra!" he cried, panic welling up in his chest.
Abruptly the wind stopped, an eerie quiet replacing the noise. Slowly he raised his head, trying to blink away the mist clouding his vision. All was as before, the ugly twilight, the muddy brown path, the wet moss hanging from the barren trees--nothing had changed. All of it had been one powerful hallucination. The lump in his throat slowly dissolved as he stared blankly at the road before him.
In a small, lost voice he said, "Fierra...."
There was no answer, only the stillness of L'eng M'Rath surrounding him. Had she been an illusion too?
His jaw set, his grip tightening on the rod. No, she was real! He had felt her presence. He had to continue, had to find her and free her. Determined, he followed the path as it led up a small hill.
Out of breath, he stopped at the top and gazed down into a shallow crater. "The end of the road," he murmured.
The sink-hole walls were stark black rock, blacker than Mumm-Ra's pyramid. In it, a huge round flat rock bearing a red seal lay against the farthest side, a reddish glow spilling out from around it. Obviously, it blocked some sort of entrance.
A hot breeze came out of the depression, dispelling the cold, and he wrinkled his nose at the harsh-smelling air. Sudden doubts filled his mind, his cat senses tingling with emotions. There was something familiar about this place--something he'd seen or read--or was it something his father had told him?
Curious now, he edged down into the cul-de-sac, the air growing hotter the closer he got to the huge wheel of stone. He stared at the terrible black rock and the star-shaped Cat's Eye emblazoned on it. How odd that it was similar to the circular one on his uniform.
Remnants of brittle bones, chunks of burnt wood, broken spears and rusted axes lay scattered along both sides of the path, a silent tribute to a battle obviously fought long ago. The surrounding wall of marbilite looked as though it had been scorched by a huge solar flare.
It was all very strange and quiet here. He looked around. Fierra had vanished, and again he wondered if he had really seen her. Maybe it had been another illusion. Seemed that's all he'd ever chased throughout his life--ghosts and mirages. His hopes dashed, he started to leave.
Don't go.
Slowly, he turned. The greenish mists collected before the stone, transforming into the likeness of his lost mate. She reached out to him, her soft coral lips parting into a white smile. "Don't be afraid. Come closer." His hopes came alive again at the sight. He stopped a mere six feet from where she floated, his eyes never leaving her face. How he wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, to know she was truly alive! His mouth went dry as he tried to find his voice, finally saying, "Tygreia said you were dead."
Her melodic laugh stirred feelings he thought had long since died. After aeons of emotional absence, he felt like a hungry man at a feast, the pain of emptiness vanishing in the warmth of her presence.
Fierra's laugh turned into a smile. "She purposely misled you for her own selfish reasons. You know how she felt about us. You see, I am alive, but I am imprisoned here. To set me free, you must break the seal."
"Seal?" His eyes narrowed on the glowing red cat-symbol on the rock. Suddenly a vague memory flashed through his mind, something his father had told him and his sister about why they wore the cat symbol. He frowned, trying to recall the story behind the cat's eye.
A twinge of suspicion nagged at him. Finally he asked, "Fierra, what happened to you? How did you get here?"
A sad look stole her smile. Eyes downcast, she replied, "'Greia and I tried to escape the L'eng. An evil sorcerer caught me and locked me inside. 'Greia managed to get away."
He looked at her, remembering how his senses had been deceived before. He wanted so much to believe what he saw and heard, but his intuition continued to bother him. "I don't know. I want to believe you're real--but how--?"
"Listen to your heart," she whispered sweetly.
He hesitated, confusion fueling the tug-of-war between his heart and mind. Suddenly the remains of his bond to Fierra burned like hot irons inside his soul. He inhaled sharply, a current of sweet emotion filling him.
"Break the seal. Free me, and we'll be together again." Suddenly a look of fear crossed her face. "But you must do it quickly, before he comes back."
"He?"
Suddenly Fierra choked, her essence going transparent, her face contorting with pain. "No!" she cried. "I feel him! He's coming! Please, you've got to save me. I can no longer bear his touch. I can't--"
She shrieked, writhing and clutching her head. "No! Don't punish me--don't--" She screamed, the blood-curdling sound filling the cul-de-sac.
"Fierra!" Anger shot through him, overpowering all reason. Snarling, he threw down the crutch, hurrying to the great stone. Heart pounding, he reached up, his fingers digging under the edge of the pentagram and he pulled.
Lightning streaked across the roiling gray clouds, splitting the skies. The wind whipped around him as he exerted all his might against the great cougar-head symbol of ThunDERa.
Abruptly Fierra dissolved, spinning upward like a green twister, the roaring wind-storm magnifying her screams. Adrenalin surged through him, new strength firing through his muscles. With a mighty roar, he ripped the seal free of its ancient mounts.
Fierra's shrieks echoed throughout the barren woods, suddenly transforming into a deep, mocking laugh even more hideous than Mumm-Ra's.
Red steam shot from the cracks around the great onyx stone. He staggered back, his eyes widening as it slowly rolled aside. Black fire belched from the cave, intense heat blasting from the pit as if coming from the depths of hell itself. Fiery orange eyes glowed within a deep veil of oily smoke that swirled up and out. Free! I'm free at last! Free to take my vengeance!
Mouth open, Tygra looked up, the ancient seal falling from his hands to shatter at his feet. Alarm froze him to the spot as he suddenly remembered the story of the Cat's Eye. "By the gods!" he breathed. "What have I done?"
A shadowy finger pointed down at him, red energy crackling all around it. Danger rippled through his cat-senses, reflexes kicking in as he tried to vault out of the way, the pain from his injuries slowing him down. He screamed as a black bolt struck him full-force, twisting him around, knocking him to the ground.
Stunned, he lay there, the ebony shadow hovering over him, then covering him.
He writhed on the ground, grappling with the shadow, heat and cold assaulting his body. Half-choking, half-growling, he fought the dark essence, struggling to escape its grip. His claws raked through the rocky soil, digging into the dirt as pain seared his flesh.
An inferno exploded inside his head as a powerful force gripped his soul. It tore at him, trying to merge with his mind, seeking control. Magic coursed through every fiber of his body, darkness plunging into his heart. His resistance crumbled, and Tygra screamed as a searing blast of energy ripped through his center, the agony of transformation surging through him.
An explosion of fire consumed him, thunder and lightning echoing its powerful sounds. The clouds grew darker, sending cold wind and swirls of snow spinning down from the sky. When the smoke blew away, Tygra, noble of ThunDERa, was no longer.
Barthaz stood, stretching and flexing his powerful muscles, letting the hot wind blast around him. Glorious warmth soaked into him as he absorbed precious energy from his surroundings, vitality replacing the centuries of nothingness. More and more he took from the planet itself, ice crystallizing on the rocks and barren tree branches, sudden snow flurries turning the blackened ground white.
Inhaling deeply, he tasted the fresh air, felt the strong pulse of a heart beating within his chest. "To see--to be once more!" he said softly, letting the narcotic effect of all the senses wash over him. He laughed, his deep terrible laugh echoing in the hollow. In all his ancient glory, Barthaz was once more a living being.
The green ghost of M'Reth Sa flowed in, curling up around
his body, and he let the etheric energy embrace him. "Yes, my loyal
one, it is I! Alive and free! You did an excellent job! I commend you!"
A terrible rumbling shook the earth deep beneath his black boots. "Patience, my allies in the Ever-After, this is but the first step," he said, his fists clenching tight. "Once I reclaim the Sword of Omens as its rightful owner, you will be free."
"And when you are free," he snarled through gritted teeth, his voice reverberating with pure hatred, "I will have revenge--and ThunDERa will be mine!"
A terrible rumbling shook the earth deep beneath his black boots. "Patience, my allies in the Ever-After, this is but the first step," he said, his fists clenching tight. "Once I reclaim the Sword of Omens as its rightful owner, you will be free."
"And when you are free," he snarled through gritted teeth, his voice reverberating with pure hatred, "I will have revenge--and ThunDERa will be mine!"
###
But they had to continue. There was no other choice. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, even though fatigue pained the pads of her feet.
"If we make it through this," Bengali growled softly, "I don't think I'll ever go into a dark room again."
"I know what you mean," Cheetara replied, glancing up at him. He looked just as ragged as she did. "I'm beginning to see the purpose of night lights."
Suddenly Aja stopped, everyone coming to a halt behind her.
The great sea of weeds had disappeared. Before them rose a brown-gray rocky knoll with the vestiges of a long unused path sloping down into a fog-shrouded gully. A river of mists flowed rapidly on the ground, the air currents spiraling down into a trench, much like the Whirlpool of Infinity back on Third Earth.
Cheetara watched Aja, sensing something was wrong. "What is it?" she asked.
"It's--I...."
"What do you see?" Lynx-O asked.
Her shoulders slumped. "Nothing. I've lost the trail, and I think we're lost as well."
"We're what!" Bengali snarled, his fist balling up. "We've been traveling for nearly a day and now you tell us we're lost?"
"Bengali!" Cheetara snapped.
Bengali's whiskers smoothed down, but his scowl didn't. "Cheetara, I didn't want this child leading us in the first place. Pumyra is dying--I can feel it, and because of you," he said to Aja, jabbing a finger at her, "we won't reach her in time."
Tight-lipped, Aja said, "If you think you can do a better job, go right ahead."
"Enough," Cheetara said sternly. "I understand your pain," she said looking from tigress to tiger, "but fighting isn't going to help us, so put your hostilities away until later. First thing we need to do is get our bearings."
"Everyone, just a minute!" Lynx-O said, clutching Cheetara's arm. "Listen--there's something going on in the area just ahead of us."
Quiet filled the area, everyone listening intently. At first she heard nothing, then ever so faintly she heard voices, and the clanking sound of metal against metal. It was so eerie.
"I can't tell if it's friendly or not," Lynx-O said. "Can you?"
"No," she replied, "but I guess we'll find out. Let's go for it."
"But we can't just walk into that!" Bengali exclaimed.
"And we can't stay here," she replied. She motioned for Aja to continue leading the way, she and the others falling into step behind her.
In a matter of minutes, they entered the thick swirling fog. The gully went straight for a few meters, then opened up to a wider, still fog-enshrouded place.
Her intuition tingled wildly as they passed through the cold, gray mists. Weird spectral outlines moved inside the fog, strange, blurred shapes infringing on her psychic sense, the echoes of combat surrounding her.
She gasped as she realized she was seeing visions from the past, from the battle of Amasa. Cat against cat, the brutal slaughter raged around her, turning the fog blood-red. Lion against Leopard against Panther, the cries of death rang in her ears. She froze as a Cheetah warrior looked directly at her, his bloodied mace raised above his head as an arrow struck his chest.
Wind suddenly wailed through the gully, pushing back the fog. Visibility cleared and everyone gasped. Even Lynx-O came to a sudden halt, his brow furrowed.
The specters were gone, but scattered all around them were their skeletal remains, some headless, some armless, their battle armor rusted and crumbling. Broken weapons and shattered shields covered some of the fallen, their crests cracked and corroded. Decayed bits of mane clung to the shattered skulls laying half buried in the reddish ground, their death-head smiles leering up at the nasty sky. Jagged remnants of old walls poked out of the ground like broken teeth, the battle-scorched stone looking cracked and ready to fall.
"Dear Jaga," she said, her gaze riveting on a skeleton lying not far from her. The bony fingers still gripped a rusted mace, the remains of an arrow sticking from the ribcage.
"Incredible," Bengali whispered.
Lynx-O nodded. "The sensations are astounding."
Wide-eyed, Aja pointed at an ebony obelisk rising out of the center of the field. "By the mystics! Look! It's the black needle!"
Cautiously they approached it. Cheetara looked up at the slender monument, noticing how much it resembled the Sword of Omens.
"My mother told me stories about this," Aja said, gazing at her reflection in the mirror-like surface. "But I thought it was just a fairy-tale, make-believe." She reached out to touch the obsidian glass.
"Aja, don't touch it," Bengali yelled.
Too late, her fingers brushed the polished stone. The monolith hummed, flaring bright red, scarlet webs of lightning dancing all around it, a deep rumbling moving from its base down into the ground. Trees rattled, fragile stones falling from the already crumbling ruins.
Crying out, Cheetara grabbed onto Lynx-O, both fighting to stay standing.
Electricity branched out, the energy field expanding. Bengali grabbed Aja's arm, yanking her back as hell-fire exploded from the black rock.
Blinding white light hit them full force. Cheetara screamed, shielding her eyes from the painful brightness, staggering sideways. The wind whipped around her sucking her and everything close to her into the air. She thrashed against it, her mane beating against her face, her mouth working as she tried to vainly call to her comrades. Panic swelled within her breast, her sixth-sense going wild.
Suddenly everything stopped, and she dropped onto the hard ground.
For a moment, she lay dazed, then groaned, painfully aware of new bruises as she made herself stand. Confused, she stood there, gripping her arms tightly to stop herself from shivering. All of the sudden she inhaled sharply, her head jerking upward. Something wet and slimy--a presence--slithered through her mind, and then it was gone. Pushing strands of her tangled mane away from her face, she looked around, and froze with shock.
Walls enclosed her, with a floor below and a ceiling above her, all completely white. She swallowed hard. There were no windows or doors, no way out of this nothingness box. Everywhere she looked was an infinite white.
A chill prickled down her back, a claustrophobic feeling threatening to overwhelm her. "This is an illusion," she said, hugging herself tighter. "None of this is real."
But I am,...Cheetara.
Her mouth fell open as she pivoted toward that echoing voice.
Tall and lean, a male of the Cheetah clan stood at the far end of the closed room. His coat was a honey tan, with coal-black spots running up his muscular arms. A single black stripe swept down symmetrically from under each eye, curving gently under his muzzle. The amber of his short, spotted mane blended down across the cream fur of his cheeks. He was as she had last seen him, young and handsome, his smile as bright as the day they had bonded.
"By the gods," she whispered. "Arexus?"
Slowly, he approached her. "Yes, Cheetara, it's me."
She took a step back as he reached for her. "You can't be here. You're dead--killed when the mutants blasted your ship. I felt you die--felt our bond break."
"To the outside world, yes, I am dead. But in L'eng M'rath, I am real." He reached out again, and this time she didn't back away. Gently, he grasped her hands. "I exist."
Speechless, she stared into his piercing green eyes, unable to break away. They glowed so iridescent they looked like emerald fire.
"I sense you've bonded again," he said. His thin eyebrows rose slightly and he smiled a strange smile. "Ah--to the Lord of the Thundercats. You've done well, my dear."
Her heart raced as his muscular arms encircled her, his hand sliding down her back in the way he used to touch her. Part of her cried with joy. To have lost him to death, then to find him here! Not a spirit, or a dream, but alive! Deep inside, her life-bond to Lion-O throbbed, bringing her back to her senses.
He bent to kiss her, but she stopped him with her hand. "No, this is wrong." Gently she pushed him away. "Arexus, I am partner to another soul now. What we had was of another time, another place."
"But this is another place," Arexus growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.
His icy touch burned like fire. Danger flashed through her cat-senses, breaking her shock. His dark emanations flooded through her: lust, a burning hunger for revenge, hatred! This wasn't Arexus; this was something else, something dangerous, something vile! The smell of it turned her stomach and echoes of her earlier vision rang inside her skull.
"Stop it!" she snarled, struggling against him, and with a surge of strength, broke free. Her claws flexed, she growled, "How dare you? I don't know who or what you are, but you'll pay dearly for this mockery!"
The male cheetah's eyes burned like copper as an unearthly glow enveloped him. "Ah, Cheetara, your kind could never be fooled for long," he said, his voice taking on a deep, hollow ring. "Maybe you would prefer to see my true self." He lifted up his arms, his body exploding with light brighter than the sun.
From out of the smoke and flame a hideous red serpent arched up, its arms extending from beneath two large, leathery wings. Its rattle-tipped tail shook as it rose up and hissed.
She went for her staff, only to find it missing. Reflex was all that saved her as the beast lunged, its talons slashing through the air. She dodged around it, but it turned as fast she could move, striking at her again and again. Suddenly, it stopped. Rearing up, it swayed like a cobra, its forked tongue lashing the air.
Warily she watched it, ready to move at the first hint of attack.
It glared down at her, green lights sparkling deep inside its shiny black eyes. She stared at those eyes. The green copper lights burned into her mind, and she could not turn away. She couldn't move, couldn't cry out! The creature grabbed her in its terrible claws and lifted her to its mouth. Razor-sharp teeth dripping with venom closed down on her.
She screamed and suddenly sat up, blankets tumbling off her. Chest heaving, she looked all around, seeing nothing but darkness.
"Cheetara? What is it? Are you all right?"
A hand touched her shoulder and she turned sharply. Her vision adjusted to the night, and a face came into focus. "Lion-O?" Her hands went to her mouth. She was at home, in Cat's Lair, had been asleep in the master bedchamber with her mate beside her.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She wiped the sweat-dampened fur on her forehead. "I dreamt I was in L'eng M'rath...Tygra and Pumyra were lost. This monster had me and I couldn't get away. I--"
"There, there," Lion-O said, putting his arm around her. "It was only a bad dream. You're safe."
She sighed, closing her eyes as she rested against Lion-O's chest, relaxing in the security of his arms. By the Mystics, it had seemed so real! Thank the stars it had only been a nightmare.
Playfully, he nuzzled her ear, his rough tongue tickling her earlobe. "Bet I can make your bad dream go away," he whispered, his fingers brushing against the inside of her thigh.
"Lion-O!" She grabbed his hand, a smart comment dying on her tongue as she looked up at him. Glittering copper-green fire shone from his eyes, the same dark emotion from the nightmare radiating from him like a beacon.
Panic choked her as she struggled, fighting to get away from him, twisting in his powerful embrace. He wrestled with her, trying to push her down, and her teeth sank into his arm. He snarled, his hand slamming hard against the side of her head.
Stunned senseless, she fell back on the pillows, grayness blotting out all awareness, threatening to go to complete black. No, she couldn't pass out now, and she fought to stay conscious.
Vision slowly returned, the smarting pain on the side of her face making itself known. Her eyes opened, focusing on the face floating above her. His smile flashed white.
"The Swift One is so easy to catch when you have the right bait, eh, my lovely?" he purred, his lips tenderly brushing hers.
She tensed, pushing against him, but his weight pinned her down. He laughed, his grip tightening about her wrists. She felt every ripple of his muscular body as he moved against her, felt his desire as his knee slipped between her legs.
Her heart pounded against her breastbone, her life-bond to Lion-O trembling with horror. This thing looked and sounded just like him. Even his scent was the same. But it wasn't Lion-O!
"Who are you?" she rasped, looking up at him.
He smiled that smile again, darkness glittering in his eyes as his face gradually changed. The red mane shortened, turning to orange and white, black stripes zig-zagging through it. The face narrowed a bit as orange colored the previously tawny fur.
Her eyes opened wide. "Tygra?"
He laughed a deep, terrible laugh. "No, though you are partly right." Again, his face blurred, Tygra's orange-and-white mane growing longer, shaggier, long side tufts trailing down his jawline into a white beard. White covered his magnificent chest, fiery orange-and-black-striped fur thickening on his brawny arms.
A chill of fear turned her voice to a whisper. "Barthaz!"
His eyes narrowed and he gave her a very dark smile. "Yes, my sweet one." He licked his lips. "Seems I'll have my taste of honey, and it will serve a dual purpose. I'll be granting your friend a wish he has harbored for quite some time."
He bent, his mouth covering hers, his tongue seeking entry through her tightly pressed lips. His other knee slipped down, pushing her legs apart.
A cannon blast of terror shot through her, breaking the spell-trance. Futilely, she struggled in his embrace, a muffled scream dying in her throat. Fight, she screamed inside. Fight him! Fight him!
Electricity flowed from his brutal kiss through her nerves, biting into her brain like a vampire's fangs into warm flesh. His scent filled her nostrils, and her will melted away like new-fallen snow. Slowly, she stopped struggling as the ancient of darkness entered her mind and her body.
###
He sighed and stared at the head of his power hammer. None of this made any sense! The wall should have been vaporized into a billion atoms. Fur ruffled, again he studied the barriers forming his prison. Surrounding him were a white ceiling, floor and walls with no hint of an opening anywhere. He placed his hammer on his belt, his arms dropping to his sides, his brow furrowing. He had no idea where he was or what had happened to his friends. It was like a strobe-bomb had gone off and when he'd awakened he was alone in the middle of this nothing-place.
Damn it, why did Aja have to touch that obelisk! It was her fault this had happened! All his fears had come alive because of that child.
"Pumyra," he said softly, "if we ever get out of this, I promise you we will have a formal bonding ceremony as soon as possible, and you won't talk me out of it!"
Grimacing, he stared at his cell again, forcing himself to stay calm. There's a way out of every cage and by Jaga he'd find it! His resolve renewed, he started searching the walls for any hint of an opening.
Abruptly, an icy breeze blew across the floor. Surprised at the sudden sensation, he tried to follow it, but he could find no vent, no hole, no possible source.
"This is stupid!" he growled softly, feeling the seam along the ceiling. "There's got to be an opening somewhere!"
A creepy sensation rippled across his shoulders and down his arms, an unexplained coldness winding around his legs. He spun, looking around, his cat-senses going wild. Suddenly, something cold zinged through his mind and he shuddered. Immediately he reached for his power hammer, only to find it gone.
His hackles rose, claws flexing as the icy tendrils rapidly embraced his body. Frightened, he tried to back away. This thing was alive, evil--he could feel it!
"Who are you?" he shouted, sweat dampening the fur on his face. His back hit the steel-hard wall. "Answer me! Who are you? What do you want?"
Want? a deep voice rumbled. Why, dear brother, I want your soul!
"What the--?" Bengali raged. "Show yourself, coward, or I'll--" He stopped, his eyes going wide as the air at his feet changed to a rosy pink mist, sparkling lights illuminating a face within it.
"Barthaz!"
A wicked laugh filled the sealed room. Ah, you are a feisty one. You'll make an excellent slave. I shall enjoy breaking you.
"Go ahead and try! I'll see you rot in hell first!"
The laughter grew louder. Dear brother, you're already in hell! Breathe deeply, Bengali! the ancient laughed. For when this is over, you'll be like a lump of clay for me to mold into whatever I choose!
The wind blew, the face disappearing as it drove the swirling mist higher into the air. His nose wrinkled at the syrupy scent, sudden dizziness dragging him down. "No," he gasped, recognizing the intoxicating scent of the herb no cat could resist. "Kataria!"
Panic screamed through him and he spun, frantically pounding on the wall, his claws trying to dig into the metal. Desperately, he searched for an idea, an answer, anything because he couldn't hold his breath forever.
Seconds ticked into minutes, the perfumed mists completely filling the enclosure, the fumes beginning to sting his eyes. His lungs bursting, he fought to hold his breath one second longer, but need overcame will.
He inhaled, the fragrance burning his throat and lungs. Choking and coughing, he slid down the wall, his claws raking across the metal as he fell to his knees. "No," he choked, unable to stop his trembling limbs as the drug took control.
The fiery scent wrapped itself around his senses, magnifying sound, distorting his vision. He twisted on the floor, fists covering his eyes, trying to shut out the dazzling light. His heart jack-hammered in his chest, waves of nausea churning his stomach as bright colors of red, yellow and blue swirled into the whiteness, spinning faster and faster until everything went black.
A cacophony of chattering rattles filled the darkness, and instinctively his eyes flew open. He screamed in terror at the sight.
Rattlesnakes wound around his arms, their fangs sinking into his flesh, spilling his blood. He shrieked, frantically trying to pull them off, but more took the place of those he killed. Hundreds of glowing red eyes filled the dark, the sound of a thousand beating bat wings filling the empty air, growing louder and louder.
Hairy spiders crawled under his tunic and across his face, latching onto his hands. The more he wiped them away the more they multiplied, biting and tearing his skin. He screamed until his throat was raw, reality stretching into hundreds of dazzling mirrors, each reflecting his face. Large and small, they twirled, changing into dazzling yellows, bright greens, and electric blues. They filled the void, meshing into one huge glass, distorting his image into a hideous bent reflection, its harsh laughter bouncing off the walls--at him.
Whirling wind-devils and ghosts of the past whipped up all around him, joining in the laughter, tormenting and insulting him. He cried out, hands covering his ears to shut out the echoing taunts, but the words Rag-wearer! Spawn of an alley cat! Coward! Inept fool! pierced his throbbing skull.
New faces formed in the shiny mirrors: Lion-O, Panthro, Lynx-O, and Cheetara. All of them sneered at him, their insults stabbing deeper and deeper. Suddenly they shimmered and Pumyra's face filled the mirrors, her eyes burning emerald green. She laughed at him, reviling him, the words I loathe you! ringing in his head.
Hands over his ears, he got to his feet. His chest heaved, adrenalin pumping through his veins. "No!" he bellowed. "Shut up! Shut up!"
Fists balled tight, he roared in fury, charging at the wraiths. His claws slashed empty air as he crashed through one of the mirrors, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
Slowly the fragments rose up into the air, expanding, transforming into salivating lizard-demons that looked at him with hungry eyes. They spread their leathery wings and with a banshee scream, dove at him like angry crows, scratching and pecking at his arms and face, their teeth dripping with his blood.
He held up his bloodied hands, trying to fend them off as they beat against him. He stumbled, struggling to get away.
Like steam they evaporated, the air growing suffocatingly hot. He choked, falling to the ground, fire coursing through his veins. He was burning up, sweat matting his fur. Writhing, he tore at his uniform, trying to shed the smothering thing. Gasping for breath, he rolled onto his back, pain shooting through his nervous system until he thought he was going to explode. Tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with his blood and sweat.
Above him, the fluorescent orange sky lit up with cerulean lines that danced in chaotic patterns. Gradually the brilliant heavens darkened until they glistened like polished onyx. A storm gathered above him, cold drops of rain starting to pelt down on his body.
A pair of crimson eyes flashed inside the turbulent clouds, cruel laughter thundering in the void.
He stared at those eyes, Tygra's name coming into his mind and then the image was gone. Slowly he curled into a fetal ball, his broiling mind blanking out, letting the cool, infinite blackness swallow him whole.
###
Yet he felt warmth from all around, smelled the freshness of the air. The cool breeze was strong enough to tickle his whiskers and move the tails of the head-band he wore, but no matter what he tried, he could not locate the source of this air current.
One hand on the wall, he paused, pondering his course of action, a note of concern threading its way into his mind. From what he could tell, he was in a box, some sort of cell that had no obvious openings.
A feeling of being trapped pressed down on him and with an effort he fought it back. As a ThunDERian, he'd survived the Plundarian War, had fought in the Spideron Invasion and had escaped the destruction of old ThunDERa, during which he'd lost his sight. He'd survived on Third Earth, proved himself worthy to become a Thundercat. He was old, had seen many things, faced and survived many dire situations. By the Star, he'd not let this one control him. The only fear he couldn't banish was that for his friends.
Arms stretched out before him, he moved away from the wall, stopping at what he judged to be the center of the room. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Bengali? Cheetara? Aja? Can you hear me?"
His voice bounced back at him, echoing throughout the chamber until it died away leaving nothing but the silence. His ears twitched and he turned a complete circle, calling to his friends, each name coming back to him distorted and unrecognizable.
"Jaga, let them be all right," he murmured to himself, but the dreadful feeling inside persisted, growing even darker. "I must think."
Suddenly he straightened, his super-sensitivity picking up a new feeling in the air--an ominous one that had a familiarity about it.
"Who's there?"
A sudden gust of wind blasted around him, the coldness piercing through his uniform and fur all the way down to his skin. There was something in this place with him, watching him. Easily he located it and turned in its direction. "Who's there? What is this place?' he demanded.
Ah, Lynx-O, I'm impressed. Your sightlessness has made you quite strong. Not only did you know I was here, but you knew where! It's amazing how the blind can see so much better than the sighted, the hollow-sounding voice echoed. But then again, you use your senses much more efficiently than the other Thundercats.
Lynx-O spun around as the presence now completely surrounded him. "I know that voice!" The old warrior paused. A new chill traveled down his back, but it wasn't because of the cold wind. He frowned, trying to read the entity's intentions, but it kept itself shielded enough to let only the barest of hints through to him.
I need your help.
"This is a very odd way of asking for it."
To have done otherwise would not have been understood.
Lynx-O's ears twitched, his intuition burning like a fever. This being hid himself very well, and that made him wonder why. At this point he had no choice but to play along. "Very well, I'm listening."
A grave injustice was inflicted upon me long ago. I was a magician of considerable talent until my jealous siblings tricked me, stealing the source of my power and wrongly imprisoning me here in L'eng M'rath. I still have some magic, but until my source is returned, I am trapped here...forever. I ask you, as a Thundercat, to please help me. In return, I can offer you many things. Behold!
Electricity charged around Lynx-O, tickling the fur along his arms to the top of his head, an odd sensation rippling through him. He gasped as the muscles on his face involuntarily twitched. Fiery pain surrounded his scarred and useless eyes, and he cried out, hands covering his face. He staggered a couple of steps, the pain changing to a sweet feeling of relief. Slowly he straightened, removing his hands, and for the first time in years, his eyelids opened.
He blinked, staring at his palms, tears brimming in his eyes. "By the stars," came his choked whisper. He squinted at the dazzling light in the room of white.
There's more, my friend. Look.
Light flared behind him and he turned. Silver radiance flooded the far wall, shimmering like a silver mirror, a picture coalescing on its surface. In awe, he went to it.
On it flashed an image of the lion's head of New Cats Lair in the Valley of the Stone Giants, the picture then changing to that of the surrounding settlement. The scene shifted to the wild savannahs of the central region, then came the snow-capped mountains of the north, followed by the shimmering aqua waters of the Eastern Ocean beneath a lavender cloud-filled sky, which slowly transformed into scenes of the lush green jungles of the southern hemisphere. "New ThunDERa," he breathed, drinking in the sights. "It's beautiful!"
This gift is only the beginning, if you will help me.
An uneasiness filled the old warrior and his gaze dropped to the shiny white floor. As a Thundercat, he was bound to help those in need. But all of this had distracted him. He knew no more about his mysterious benefactor than when he'd first appeared here. Even now, all his super-sensitivity could tell him was that this being was very powerful, and--possibly--dangerous.
"This is so overwhelming," he replied, gazing at his reflection on the polished floor, seeing himself for the first time in his Thundercat uniform of red and black. He had aged, was so different from the days before old ThunDERa had died.
A faint glimmer on the floor caught his eye. Slowly another reflection formed in it, one that made his breath catch in his throat. It was Tygra, his face contorted with pain, his mouth distinctly forming the word "No!" But most frightening was the negative cat's eye at his throat: the symbol of Barthaz.
Quickly he looked up, seeing nothing but the ceiling of his cell. The situation was worse than he'd imagined. Finally he asked, "What would I have to do to help you--Barthaz?"
There was silence, then finally the ancient answered. How did you know who I am?
"Maybe there's more to Tygra than you can control."
I see, he answered tightly. Nevertheless, my offer still stands, lynx. You've tasted the sweetness of sight again, which is only the beginning. I can grant you anything. Say you'll join me. Help me regain the Sword of Omens.
"The Sword of Omens belongs to the Lord of the Thundercats, and that's where it'll stay."
That Sword belongs to me! It was wrongfully taken!
"It was abused by you! How many ThunDERians died because of it, because of you, Barthaz?"
They died because they believed in our greatness! We were meant for more than what Leonnas and Ah-Shadeen planned! We are hunters, not balka-herders! Thunder rolled inside the cell, vibrating through the walls. Those clans followed me because they dared to dream of better things!
"Brothers killed brothers! Sisters betrayed their own kin in your name!"
Because they believed!
"In your lies! Those lives were senselessly lost because of your ambition--your madness! I'd rather die than serve you--you Bah-hisst!"
Then so be it, fool! Black fire exploded, slamming Lynx-O hard against the wall. He cried out, slumping to the floor, fiery pain searing his eyes, the blindness taking him once more. His fists pressed against his eyes, unable to stop the agony burning into his brain.
The dark ancient spoke softly. Yes, old fool, your sight is gone again. But you have your other senses, don't you?
Through the haze of pain, danger thrilled across Lynx-O's cat senses. Dizzy, he tried to stand, not knowing which way to turn. He gasped as his feet abruptly left the ground, the sudden cessation of gravity startling and confusing him. He floundered, kicking and turning, trying to regain his stability.
Disoriented, he knew neither up nor down. His pulse racing, he desperately sought some sense of bearing. He tried to shout, but no sound came from his dry throat. Struggling, he twisted around, kicking like a swimmer. The walls, if only he could find one of the walls!
Barthaz laughed. What will you do when I take your senses away? Slowly, one by one.
The throbbing pain in Lynx-O's skull and back rapidly vanished. More confusion heaped upon him as he turned in mid-air. Movement was becoming difficult, his legs growing leaden, his arms going numb as all feeling leeched from his body. In a matter of seconds, all movement except for his breathing ceased. He drifted, listening to his own heartbeat, unable to speak, unable to move. Terrified, he realized too late what the dark ancient was doing to him.
The scents in the air faded, pressure rising inside his ears. He tried to gasp, but the muscles that formed his mouth wouldn't obey. Powerless, he floated in the cell, his super-sensitive hearing growing fainter by the second.
Without your senses, how long will it take for you to die, old man? How long will you last? You see, I rule L'eng M'rath. Once you are dead, you'll be mine to command anyway! His laughter rang hollowly through the cell, then slowly faded until there was nothing but silence.
Unable to move, speak, see or hear, Lynx-O floated helplessly in total isolation. Panic engulfed him. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.
###
A tickle grazed the fur of her cheek, disturbing her peace, and she frowned, not wanting to open her eyes. Seconds ticked by, the feather-light touch growing more and more persistent and annoying. She groaned, giving a half-hearted swat at it, but it refused to go away.
Bengali, she thought. It had to be him! Sharp words waiting on her tongue, she opened her eyes, expecting to see him bending over her, a silly grin plastered on his face.
All she saw were the cracks in a brown stone ceiling. Beautiful silver light shimmered, casting misshapen shadows on the rough walls. Slowly she sat up, turning to the source of the light.
An elegant trident stood propped against the corner closest to her resting place. Waves of light radiated from it, washing through her, soothing her like the caress of the sea. She gazed at the glittering blue cat's eye in its base. Not since the Sword of Omens had she seen such a magnificent weapon.
How had it gotten here? She glanced at her depressing surroundings, then wondered the same thing about herself. At the sight of the bloodied purple shroud lying on the cobbled floor, her heart nearly turned to ice.
"Tygra," she whispered, anxiously looking about the empty room, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Awkwardly she rose from the slab, a whirl of psychic sensations suddenly blinding her. Eyes closed, she gasped in agony, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from falling. The dizziness passed, but a terrible feeling lingered in the pit of her stomach. "Bengali," she breathed. "Dear Jaga, what's happening?"
Inhaling deeply, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, the icy hand that gripped her heart suddenly clutching her throat. There, on the stone bench before her, lay her own body...reposed as if in slumber, bathed in the brilliant light of the trident.
Burns covered her face and arms, her fur and mane blackened, the wound on her forehead encrusted with dry blood. Hand trembling, she reached out to touch her cheek, but her fingers passed through it. She backed away, hand going to her mouth.
Do not be alarmed, daughter of the mountain hunters, came a soft voice from within the trident's light.
Confused, she stumbled backward another step. "Who--who said that?"
It is I, Ah-Shadeen, and I have called you forth to aid me in my battle against Barthaz.
"Ah-Shadeen?" she whispered. "Barthaz?" She knew the legends, remembered the names from the stories of the unification. But those people had lived centuries ago, had been the creators of the nobility. "This is impossible! It's a trick--a wicked Mumm-Ra trick!"
My child, trust your instincts. Look into your heart and remember.
Pumyra stared at her injured body, wishing she'd awaken from this awful dream--this nightmare--and find herself safe at home in her own bed.
A curtain of mist clouded her vision, memories returning of the storm- creature, the fire, the crash, and the pain that gradually faded into gray nothingness. Suddenly she realized she was in L'eng M'reth--the Place of Shadows--and that could mean only one thing.
In a small voice she asked, "Am I dead?"
No, young one, the Trident of Jaguaren keeps you alive, or otherwise Barthaz would have claimed you. Your injuries were too great for my daughter to heal. For that reason, I had to call forth your soul-self, Pumyra. I need your help.
"Me?"
My children--your friends--are in grave danger. They are the now playthings of Barthaz. I cannot reach them, and even if I could, by that time it would be too late.
"What can I do?"
I need you to be my Warrior Spirit, to take my power into Barthaz's nether-dimension and free the Thundercats. It will take great courage and strength. I cannot force you. I can only ask. Please, will you help me?
Pumyra hesitated, wondering if this truly was the Earth-Sorceress.
Numbly, she gazed at her body lying on the stone table, seeing her face so terribly blistered, her mane so badly burned. Beyond her confusion, she knew Bengali was in terrible danger, and she knew what she saw before her. She had no choice but to trust this voice from the Trident. If she was wrong, she was as good as dead anyway.
Her hands clasped and she bowed her head, "Tell me how I can serve you, Earth-Sorceress."
There was a smile in the ancient's voice. Stand tall and let the magic fill you. Let your faith be your guide.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to face the Trident's beautiful corona, then slowly opened her arms as if to embrace the light. It flared, gold mixing in the silver currents, the warmth wrapping around her like a summer breeze. She smiled, closing her eyes. It felt so good!
Ecstasy rippled through her, the colors of the heaven-fires blending with her pale soul-self, changing her, infusing her with the magic of the ancients.
Out of the sunset radiance she emerged, her svelte figure colored star-sparkling indigo, nebulous white cascading like a cloak from her shoulders, her eyes glowing like red embers. On her chest the ancient symbol of the ThunDERian nobles blazed strong and bright.
No longer was she Pumyra the Healer. She was now Pumala the Deliverer, Warrior Spirit of the Ancients. A silverwood totem materialized in the air, the carved symbols of all the tribes of ThunDERa emblazoned on the handle. As she gripped it, the turquoise cat's eye embedded in its tip flared, burning bright with power. At her mental command, a shimmering portal appeared.
This is all the power I dare give you. Any more and I would tip my hand to Barthaz. Your supply is limited, so use the Totem wisely, Pumala.
She bowed slightly and said, "We shall, Earth-Sorceress."
May the Spirit of ThunDERa protect you, my friend. The Trident's light dimmed, signaling Ah-Shadeen's departure.
Pumala paused a moment at the gate's threshold to gaze one last time at her mortal form. The life-sustaining light of the trident burned like a beacon in the twilight, giving Pumyra's face an ethereal color.
"I pray your love and my strength are enough, my sister, so that we will be able to return. If it isn't, may the Mystics have mercy on us all this dark day."
She turned and stepped through the iris' center. It closed behind her, shutting out L'eng M'rath.
###
Memories of the terrible day she had first encountered the dark sorcerer burned to life. Guilt stabbed deep inside her once more as she thought of Oceletta, Lynxis, Lepata and Fierra. They had escaped one terrible fate, trading it for another. She should never have let her sister and friends go to the Swamp of Sorrow, for that day she'd let them go to their doom.
The dread, the flash of danger, the disembodied voice guiding her--his plot was all figured out. By the time she'd reached the swamp, he already had her sister and her friends in his hypnotic clutches, the greenish cloud monster hovering over them, its terrible tentacles wrapping around them. Trident in hand, she stood at the edge of the sand-pool, unable to reach them.
Break the seal and I'll spare them, Tygreia! Refuse, and their blood will be on your hands!
Her eyes closed, the refusal burning her throat as she spoke that one word, condemning the four to death. Tears flooded her eyes. She could still hear their screams as M'reth Sa sucked the life from their bodies. Only Fierra's soul-self had managed to escape. There was nothing she could do but helplessly watch--and cry. That nightmarish sight would torment her as long as she lived.
Sister, please, Fierra's voice rang inside her mind, breaking her thoughts. Don't blame yourself. You did the right thing.
Her eyes flew open. She wiped at the tears soaking the fur on her cheeks. She hadn't realized she had been running with her eyes shut.
Sides aching, she pounded harder down the dark path, the cold air hurting her throat and lungs. Somewhere in the twilight a bat fluttered away. Brown snakes and coral lizards desperately slithered out of her way as she ran, pushing herself to go faster. She leapt over an old fallen tree trunk, briefly entangling herself in a huge spider web that brought on a wave of terror. Frantically she wiped it from her face, pushing her emotions away as she continued onward to scurry up a small knoll. Stopping on the crest, she looked down at a wondrous sight.
Like an oasis in the middle of a desert, a place of beauty nestled in the midst of the ugliness. From behind a round stone door pure emerald light shone like a lantern, the soft rays illuminating the despair of the land around it. Wherever the light fell, life was present. Flowers that she had not seen in ages bloomed amongst grass as green as the pastures of the northern regions. Her heart lifted and she went down to the huge stone boulder, touching the cracks through which the light escaped, feeling true warmth for the first time in aeons.
Mystified, she looked about, seeing no one. It was all very beautiful, but this was not their goal. "Fierra," Tygreia said aloud, "what are we doing? Tygra's not here!"
Fierra's voice echoed within her mind. No, sister, he's not.
"Then why in the twelve seas of ThunDERa did you bring me here?"
"Commanded? Fierra, get out of me! Get out right now!"
A brief muzziness enveloped her mind, a chill traveling down her arms and legs as the spirit of her sister parted from her body.
Fierra levitated in front of her. "Don't be afraid, sister. I'm not under another's control. This is the chamber of Ah-Shadeen, where the new nobles returned her to the earth after her battle with Barthaz. As the legend told, her brother, Lord Leonnas, went back to the sky, but he left the Scepter of Fire in her protection. It, along with the Staff of Life, is in this tomb."
Her knuckles went tight. "What good does this do us? Those things are in there and we're out here, so how in the hell are they going to help us find Tygra?"
"What?" she gasped, a horrible realization striking her. "No! The lightning storm!"
"Yes," Fierra said. "Tygreia, you must open the tomb of Ah-Shadeen."
"Why? Even with the Staff, we'd have no hope of defeating Barthaz. Only an ancient can stand against another ancient."
"I know, sister. That is why you must open the tomb."
"You think Ah-Shadeen will just walk out?"
"Will you stop arguing and just open the tomb?"
"Very well," Tygreia huffed, then turned to the marble door, moving aside the ivy vines decorating the rock arch against which the great stone rested. "I still don't understand...."
She studied the impossible task, seeing the seals mounted in the gray rock. She gaped up at the big wheel that blocked the mouth of the ancient's tomb and for the first time in her life felt very small.
"I can't move this thing!"
If you say you can't, then you are already defeated, my child, a melodic voice echoed all around. All it takes is a little thought and a little effort.
Stunned, she stood rooted to the spot, not believing her ears. The stone had spoken to her in ancient ThunDERian and she had understood every word. She swallowed hard. "Fierra?" she called, but there was no answer. "Fierra?" She glanced to the side, but her sister had vanished.
More jade-colored light poured though the cracks in the rocks, pooling in the center of the stone. No, my child. It is I, Ah-Shadeen.
Within the aura, the face of a beautiful she-cat took shape, her long sienna-and-snow-white mane flowing within the light's currents, sweeping down over her white-furred shoulders. Her elegant pointed ears were tipped in the black so characteristic of the Lynx clan. Dark red lips and eyes as green as the pines of Kirnartian smiled down at her. Slack-jawed, she stared at the image of the ancient.
Child of Te-aria, believe in yourself, for the magicks of the seasons are already within you. Look beyond the obvious and solve the problem, for only you can unlock my power to claim your birthright, daughter of my daughters. Then the image faded back into the light, its intensity diminishing to normal.
She frowned, finally saying, "Magicks of the seasons?" The warm breeze picked up, blowing back her long white mane, rustling the leaves of the vines. Her tail flicked nervously as she pondered her problem. "Look beyond the obvious," she said. The gentle wind increased, making the vines sway, revealing bits of carved surface beneath them. She grabbed a vine and pulled.
Down it came, revealing four beautifully carved panels, each depicting the old ThunDERian symbols for the seasons. They were exquisitely chiseled, each inlaid with red ferrorite, gold, ebony and pearl-stone. The Autumn-cat, Panthias, raised his shield to battle the invading winter-cold, but in that tale he never won. Even the rendition of Barthaz as the Winter-cat unleashing his cold magic commanded awe.
Her fingers traced along the panels as she admired the beauty of the work. Ah-Shadeen, the Spring-cat, stood barefoot, clad only in her green gossamer robes, seeds scattering from her open palm to the wind. Opposite her, Leonnas, the Summer-cat, commanded the blazing sun high over his head. It was then that she noticed these two panels had finger depressions, but the others had none.
Curiosity overcame her, compelling her to slip her fingertips into the shallow holes on both panels. Electric current shot through her. Fur standing on end, a scream froze in her throat as rainbow lights exploded all around. The stone ignited like a green sun, a terrible rumble shaking the ground. She broke away, ignoring the fire in her hands as a loud scraping noise filled the small glade and the door started to move to one side.
Brilliant green light struck her, the sensual fires curling around her small frame. She gazed in amazement at her arms as yellow sunlight spread from the tips of her fingers, going up her arms to her neck and down her back. The warmth felt so good, felt so alive. Unafraid, she let it inside her.
Brighter and brighter it grew, the scent of flowers and pines mixing with coolness of the earth in a sparkling morning mist. Dew covered her arms, dampening her face, and she closed her eyes, welcoming it. Light filled her, merging with her soul. She was the planet itself, could feel the wind caress her, the oceans soothe her, the sun warm her. The pulse of ThunDERa was in her heart.
When the light faded, Tygreia no longer stood before front of the tomb. A long, star-tipped staff in her right hand, Ah-Shadeen stood, savoring the feel of the earth beneath her bare feet, and the wind through her long white mane. Her eyes closed, and she smiled, her arms outstretched.
The sounds of nature pulsed all around her and she basked in every sensation. The crystal at the tip of her golden staff shimmered green and her smile brightened as she beheld the emerald cat's-eye within it.
Her eyes turned to the ugly gray clouds, seeing beyond them to the stars of the universe, sensing more than words could convey. Holding out her empty hand, a glittering pattern of lights soon formed around it, solidifying into a long white scepter with a topaz jewel in its tip. Lightning cracked against the gray sky, storm winds whipping up from the east.
"Once more, I walk the soil of our beloved ThunDERa," Ah-Shadeen said. "Soon, Leonnas, you will join me and we will confront our brother for the last time--for all eternity."
###
"You're my best victory yet, my dear," he murmured, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek. "You see, your friend Tygra believes in planning for any possibility." He smiled to himself. "And so do I. If I fail, I'll still succeed. Through you, I'll still have the Sword."
The urge to be with her a little bit longer flickered through his mind, but he pushed his desire aside. He had more important matters to attend to right now.
Barthaz turned away from the bed and stretched out his arms, drawing the sizzling magic of the nether-realm into his new body. Dark armor glittered into existence, a bronze chest-plate covering his magnificent torso, the heavy shoulder protectors taking the shape of saber-toothed tiger skulls. A silver-black loin-cloth hung from his waist and a short cape draped from his shoulders, the fabric sparkling like a star-filled night sky. The onyx cat's- eye at his throat flared to life, its refreshing energies charging through his new mortal form.
He flexed his arms, still loving the feel of his new body. He opened his right hand palm up and a tiny flurry of snow swirled in it, transforming into a crystal globe.
"Show me the other prisoners."
The sphere filled with smoke, the mists parting to show the expressionless face of the white tiger. Curled into a fetal ball, he lay in the center of an infinitely black room. Barthaz looked closer, seeking the light the in tiger's mind, seeing it slowly fade. Shortly, Bengali would belong to him.
The image rippled, smoke obscuring the vision. When it parted again, he saw the lynx. He floated in the center of white nothingness, his face bearing no expression. Scrutiny told him the old man was past the stage of madness and now in a catatonic state, but the light of awareness still burned deep inside him.
"My, my, but you're a tough old bastard, aren't you?" Barthaz laughed. His smile quickly turned into a frown. "Show me that striped bitch, Tygreia!"
The smoke curled around, filling the crystal orb, but this time the vapors wouldn't separate. After several seconds he snarled, "What's the matter with you? Show me!" Still the vapors swirled, unable to obey. His claws scraped against the thick ice marring the clear surface. "Bah! No matter...I'll see her soon enough. Show me the Lord of the Thundercats!"
This time the ball cleared immediately, showing the Hovercat streaking across a rose-colored sky. In the cockpit sat Lion-O, only minutes away from L'eng M'rath.
Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed through his head. Staggering, he nearly dropped the crystal ball, his hand going to his head. A surge of defiance erupted from deep inside him, its hostility burning away his control. Holding his breath, he raised his head and turned toward the sleeping Cheetara, outrage filling his heart.
Finally, he drew in a deep breath, relaxing somewhat. "There's nothing you can do, Thundercat," he said to himself, standing straight. "The wheels of fate are already in motion." He held up the crystal orb, letting it evaporate into a puff of steam.
With a wave of his hand the bed disappeared, leaving Cheetara floating in mid-air, her uniform magically appearing on her body. He went to her, gently stroking her mane, then his mouth covered hers in a savage kiss. He broke away, only to stare into her vacant eyes for several long seconds.
Finally he softly said, "After I kill your husband, you're mine!"
###
He doubled back, pushing the flaps control to give himself some altitude, and with it some time to think. Again that creepy feeling assaulted him, his fingers involuntarily tightening on the control grips. For some time now, he he hadn't been able to sense his Thundercat link to Tygra. What's more Bengali's and Lynx-O's were greatly muted and his life-bond to Cheetara seemed almost non-existent. All this, coupled with the terrible telepathic tremor he'd felt only minutes ago, frightened him.
The brisk air rushing through the cockpit abruptly turned cold, sending an unstoppable shiver up his arms. His attention turned to the angry, growling clouds now forming around his ship and his mind raced, considering his alternatives for getting safely inside the L'eng. There was only one quick way to get there, and he knew he had to take the chance.
He banked tightly, gunning the engine, and flew straight for the churning mass of storm clouds.
Sudden turbulence pummeled the craft, fierce winds dragging it down. He yelled, pulling back the grips with all his strength, barely managing to bring the Hovercat under the clouds and back under control.
Shaken, he swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, mentally thanking the ancients that he and the sky-craft were both still in one piece. He checked the navi-comp and as he'd figured, the compass was dead and the computer guidance systems were inoperative. All the controls were now on manual.
He glanced around, getting his first good look at the ground, and gave a low whistle. This dismal place made Darkside of Third Earth look like a tropical paradise.
Clusters of tree skeletons dotted the scarred ground, while dead weeds and sharp spine grass covered sections of the barren land like a patchwork quilt. Creeping ground fog oozed up and rolled around, boiling in the numerous holes like smoking black cauldrons. Occasionally he spotted the crumbling remains of a building jutting from the ground.
Suddenly the charcoal clouds churned faster, an angry rumble swelling inside the mass. Lion-O's mane stood on end and he gasped, twisting the grips to send his craft into a power dive.
But it was too late. Lightning cracked loud and bright, striking the Hovercat, and he cried out, his arms shielding his face as electrical fire shot through the vehicle, shattering the windshield. The control board ruptured, the propulsion unit shorting out as voltage jolted him, scrambling his senses. All he could do was hang on as the Hovercat spiraled downward.
The craft slammed into the earth like a plummeting meteor, force flinging him through the broken windshield before the ship exploded into a huge fireball.
Stunned, he lay face down on the ground, small pieces of hot debris raining down on his back. Pain throbbing through his skull, he lifted his head, blinking the dirt and blurriness from his vision.
Painfully he rose fighting back a wave of dizziness. Bruises were making themselves known, and several minor cuts oozed blood, staining his fur and tunic. Wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, he stared at the burning heap that was the Hovercat.
"By Jaga!" he breathed. He'd been swatted out of the sky like a gnat. How he survived being thrown from the craft was miracle. Although glad to be alive, he was now marooned in this dismal place with no hope of finding the other Thundercats.
He rubbed his arms, shivering from the sudden cold. His breath showed in the icy air and he realized the temperature had abruptly dropped.
An ominous rumbling sound started low in the earth, growing louder until it shook the ground, rattling the naked tree branches like bones. The menacing clouds boiled lower, reaching out for him, and he scrambled for cover as a red bolt crashed down where he had just been standing.
Sides heaving, he hid behind a broken wall. His intuition went crazy as the air seemed to thicken with a feeling of death. Frost covered the barren earth, the dead brown vegetation becoming an icy white. The clouds turned a deep gray, snow suddenly sprinkling down from the sky.
"By the Ancients!" he exclaimed, catching some flakes in his palm.
Out of nowhere a hand materialized, gripping his arm, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. With a shout, he drew back a fist, barely stopping himself when he recognized the face before him.
"Aja!" He gripped the tigress' arms to make sure she was real. "What's going on here? Where are the others?"
She shook her head, latching onto him in a hug of desperation. "I don't know! We were at the center of Amasa, when everyone but me disappeared." She started to cry. "I--I'm sorry. I don't know where they are. I failed you all."
He held her trembling body close, giving her what comfort he could. "No, you didn't. You did the best you could. That's all anyone can ask."
Suddenly the land bucked beneath their feet, sending chunks of decayed mortar crashing down from the ruined wall. Instinctively he lunged, knocking her backwards, his body covering hers as fire exploded all around. Dead trees burst into flames, geysers of fire and smoke spewing from cracks in the ground. Freezing wind blasted snow across the ground, ice crackling across the remaining trees.
Still protecting her, Lion-O looked back at the charred ice-covered rocks where they had been and shivered. "Fire...and snow? By the twelve seas, what kind of nightmare is this?"
"A damn good one," a deep voice boomed. "Welcome to L'eng M'rath, Thundercat Lord! I've been expecting you."
His head snapped up, his jaw dropping at the sight above him. Like a towering bronze and black giant, Barthaz stood outlined by the hellish sky. His shaggy mane swept back from his face, the pointed ears and heavy brow giving him a menacing look, but it was Barthaz's eyes that made Lion-O stare in disbelief.
Hands on hips, the ancient looked down at them and smiled wickedly. "That's right, Lion-O. It's your old friend, Tygra! I must say he has an excellent body. You might say I'm becoming quite attached to it."
Clinging to one another, he and Aja managed to stand. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but he found himself speechless as he stared at what had once been his friend.
Aja broke away, her fists clenched in rage. "What have you done?" she yelled. "What have you done to my mate?"
Barthaz regarded her as if she were a annoying flea. "Your mate?" he sneered. "You were never truly bonded, you foolish little cub." His coal-black eyes glittered like polished stones and he closed his hand into a fist.
Abruptly, she froze in mid-stride, a small whimper escaping her throat.
Barthaz gave a malicious ivory grin. "I see you, too, have wished to be free of this Tygra as much as he has wished to be free of you." His fingers curled upward, red ethereal energy gathering around them. "Then, my dear--so be it. You shall be free!"
His arm snapped out, blinding energy exploding around his hand. She screamed, her body bursting into flame. Snow and ice melted as the fire engulfed her, leaving an after-image of acrid yellow smoke that dissolved in the cold wind.
The shock snapped Lion-O back to his senses. "Aja!" he shouted, watching her disintegrate before his eyes. Sharply, he spun to face the sorcerer, fists clenched white-knuckle tight.
"With that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, we can get down to business," Barthaz said sarcastically. "Right, 'Lord' Lion-O?" His gaze went to the claw shield Lion-O carried and he shook a finger in mock-admonition. "Tsk, tsk, I see you did not bring the Sword." Lion-O's eyes never left the Dark Sorcerer, his rage boiling up inside him. Forcing it down, he answered evenly, "How observant! What did you do? Did you kill her--finally get her out of your way, Tygra?"
Barthaz stopped, his eyes burning black, his mouth twitching.
"She gave you a son, remember?"
"Stop it!" Barthaz growled.
"His name is Garthe. Remember?"
"Garthe...." Barthaz whispered.
Lion-O kept talking, edging closer to the ancient. "Aja was his mother...your mate," Lion-O said, barely managing to keep his emotions in check. "She loved you!"
Barthaz's eyes glittered, then briefly faded in intensity. "No...." he breathed. "She--she's...." He grimaced, as though fighting down a sudden pain inside him. "You--speak--to the Thundercat Tygra," he said stiffly. "He--no longer exists."
"I don't believe that for a second. The Tygra I know would never let the likes of you win. A Thundercat never gives up!" The gap between them closed, his left hand slipping into the claw shield. "Isn't that right, Tygra?"
Barthaz swayed, clutching his head, the fire in his eyes dying down to a dull red. "I--am--Tygra. Demon...leave me!" he said through clenched teeth. His aura dimmed, fading to nothing as his internal battle raged. Momentarily, his eyes seemed to focus. "Lion-O," he choked, his voice sounding strained. "I am...Tygra!"
He pressed on, moving closer and closer to the stricken ancient, his gaze not wavering. "Yes, Tygra! Remember! We're Thundercats. A Thundercat never gives up! And above all...." He brought the shield up, aiming the sleep-gas jets. "A Thundercat never surrenders!"
"But a Thundercat can die!" Barthaz bellowed, the hell-fire blazing bright in his eyes, his hands snapping out.
A freezing blast of ecto-energy slammed into Lion-O, knocking him backward, the claw shield flying to the side. Snow flew in the air. Stars exploded behind his eyes, the air driven from his lungs as he skidded across the frozen ground. It was several seconds before he could see, let alone move.
Barthaz stood over him, his eyes burning scarlet as he pointed a glowing index finger at his face. "Try me again, child of Leonnas, and I will certainly crush the life from your heart, Sword or no Sword!" He glared, his hand dropping to his side as he said, "Now I want what's duly mine! I want my kingdom and my Sword!"
Defiantly, Lion-O glared up at the dark ancient, his claws sinking into the loose snow.
Barthaz smiled that gleaming white smile. "And I'll start by reclaiming my weapon," he hissed. "I cannot leave this cursed land nor call forth my legions until the Sword of Omens is back in my hand." He straightened, his eyes narrowing. "And you will willingly call it for me."
Lion-O growled, "Like hell."
Barthaz's eyebrows rose. "Oh? I think you'll consent." And his red eyes blazed green.
Coins of heat shimmered in the air, sparkles of silver blotting out reality. Lion-O twisted onto his side and cringed, clutching his head as invisible claws raked across his consciousness like a plow splitting the ground, opening his mind to a world not of his making. Fiery clouds overwhelmed him, enveloping him in another time, another place. His eyes burned and he grabbed at his throat as the oxygen was sucked from his lungs. Beneath him the coarse black dirt changed to white beach sand. Choking, he rolled onto his knees, wiping the tears from his watering eyes, then stopped dead at the sight surrounding him.
Angry jeering crowds filled a white arena, their hostile roar echoing off the stadium's curved walls. His bewilderment turned to shock as he recognized the bird-people of Aviir and the field of Challenge. Again the terrifying scene of Alle-Ma's spear aiming down at his lifemate's belly played before him.
"Cheetara!" he croaked, scrambling to his feet. "Cheetara!" he shouted, running to help his mate.
A cheer went up and suddenly a savage blow rammed between his shoulder blades, knocking him through the air. Awareness spun around as he struggled to rise, only to fall down once more. Again he pushed up off the ground, sand sprinkling down from his face and arms as he shook his head to clear it of the stun-shock.
Pain shot through his nerves. He cried out as talons gouged into the back of his neck, pulling him up until his feet barely touched the ground.
Before him, an Aviirian keeper held him up like a rag-doll. The large bird's slanted yellow eyes glowed like twin fires, a sneer on his ugly face.
His nails cut through Lion-O's skin, hot blood trailing down his back. Somehow Lion-O still struggled, his own claws raking across his attacker's feathered hide, his feet kicking out. He choked, fighting as the keeper's claws dug deeper into his flesh, his relentless grip growing tighter.
Call the Sword! It's the only thing you can do to stop this!
His mouth worked, terror nearly paralyzing his heart. Yes, he had to call the Sword. That's what he'd done the last time and it had saved them all! His hand reached up, his palm opening, but he stopped.
Call the Sword....
He opened his eyes to slits, his fuzzy vision centering on his hated enemy and he stared into those burning yellow eyes--cat's eyes. The Lord of the Thundercats must know what is from what is not, he remembered Tygra telling him during his annointment trials.
The keeper raised his glowing hot stun prod, aiming it at Lion-O's midriff.
He mustered all his strength, and spat in its face.
Abruptly, it dropped him on the hard ground. He clutched at his throat, gasping for breath as his surroundings dissolved like the mirages they were, changing back to the reality of L'eng M'rath. Above him still towered Barthaz.
"You're stronger than I thought," Barthaz said evenly, wiping the spittle from his face. "But I believe I've learned your weakness." With an eloquent sweep of his left hand, he gestured toward the blackened remnant of the wall. "Behold."
Crystalline snow crunched as Lion-O managed to raise up on his elbows to watch a glowing yellow-orange mist fill the spot Barthaz indicated. Like gossamer curtains parting, the intruding vapors peeled back to reveal a crumbling, forgotten tomb. Amber and black light coalesced within the area, assuming a ghostly feminine shape that slowly took on detail until it became solid. His eyes widened, a chill prickling the fur all over his body, his heart nearly going into his throat. "Cheetara," he rasped. "Such a delightful creature," Barthaz said.
Fighting exhaustion and pain, Lion-O struggled to his feet. "Cheetara," he whispered, mentally reaching for his mate, but she did not respond. She stood by the broken wall like a statue, unblinking, unseeing, unmoving.
"You bastard! What have you done to her?"
"What I have done is of no importance. What you will do is." Softly, Barthaz called, "M'reth Sa."
Tendrils of sea-green vapor snaked over the jagged edge of the wall behind Cheetara, curling up, intertwining until they rose up into one giant mass. The fog-monster's shape was instantly recognizable, its red eyes sparkling as it roared into existence. Hungrily it hovered over Cheetara.
Horror filled Lion-O, his eyes darting from the cloud to Barthaz.
"Her life for the Sword, Lord Lion-O." Barthaz crossed his arms, a triumphant grin turning the corners of his mouth. "Give me the Sword and I'll spare your lady's life. Which will it be?"
His claws cut into his palms, his stomach rolling into knots. He stared at his mate, his mouth twitching, the urge to call the Sword almost overwhelming him, but the words died in his parched throat. Anguish ripped through his soul as he realized that royal duty outweighed the wishes of his heart.
"Your answer, Lord Lion-O," Barthaz prompted him.
"I'll see you burn in hell, demon!"
Barthaz scowled. "Then so be it, Thundercat! Watch your lady die." And his arm slashed downward, the tornadic green mist immediately embracing its victim.
"No!" Lion-O roared, bolting for the wall. The sickly green cloud completely engulfed her now, its sparkling mists flaring like a mutant ship's transporter beam. Cheetara screamed, the sound searing across his heart, shaking the very foundations of their bond.
He barely reached the platform when an explosion sent him reeling. At the same time a hideous, high-pitched shriek rippled through Amasa, the echo making his blood run cold. Abruptly it stopped, an unnerving silence taking its place. He twisted on the snow-covered ground, fear choking him as he looked toward the platform.
The monster was gone. Unharmed, Cheetara stood on the stone stage for several seconds, wavering, then she wilted to the ground.
"M'reth?" an astonished Barthaz whispered. His nostrils flared and slowly his lip curled back, his fists tightening until he visibly shook. Pivoting, he glared up at the nasty clouds and roared, "Ah-Shadeen!"
Lion-O followed Barthaz's gaze. In the midst of the dark churning sky, a gold star glittered, growing larger and brighter. In the center of the ethereal light a woman's shape emerged, the light becoming solid. He gasped at the sight of a being he knew only from the lore of the ancients.
A glowing staff in her right hand, Ah-Shadeen calmly looked down from the heavens at the furious magician of destruction.
###
The needle-size forks pelted against the barrier, burning up on impact only to be replaced by more as Barthaz's tiny hoards crawled out of the whiteness. She knew that one scratch from the tines of those arrows would rob her of her magic, and she would become a simple ectoplasmic lump of a dying spirit.
Wasting no time she aimed the totem at the hoard and blasted the insect-creatures back into their white oblivion.
This was but the first obstacle. There was more to Barthaz's army than this. Quickly she rose up, flying off in the direction the rod indicated.
Not a second had passed when she heard an angry rattle in the blank desert, and she looked down. Beneath her, human-faced snakes suddenly rose up, fangs bared and spitting venom as they struck at her. Twisting away, she flew higher, dodging their deadly teeth as she aimed the totem down at them.
An eardrum-shattering screech echoed throughout the dimension and she whirled, seeing winged reptiles diving straight at her.
Ebonites! Their needle sharp teeth glistened with yellow poison as the bat-like lizards dove down at her. She spun again, shielding herself as they pummeled against her magic-shield. Suddenly a chittering squeal coupled with the bat-lizards' screams. The insect-demons were returning, joining their airborne allies.
Pumala closed the barrier as the sea of monsters surged around her. Striking, biting and clawing, they chipped at it, each blow eating more and more of her precious energy.
She grasped the totem in both hands, focusing all her will into it until it glowed like an indigo star.
"By the powers of Justice, be gone!" she cried and thrust out the totem. Sapphire rays shot from the jewel, burning away the shield.
Screeching, the demons and monsters fell back, their cries of death filling her ears as the ones closest to her incinerated on the spot. She held the blazing eye, shining the light on all that surrounded her. Terrified, the remaining Ebonites fluttered back, fleeing as fast they could go, the snake-things slithering quickly away into the milky folds of the dimension. The insects retreated, hundreds dissolving as the beams struck them.
She felt herself tire, the strain threatening to break her concentration.
The polar whiteness of the dimension absorbed the color, turning it a light aqua, then a deep ocean-blue. She continued her attack until the nerve-wracking rattle of the man-snakes ceased and the void became quiet as a tomb.
Pumala slumped, drifting slightly in the cool blueness until she could recover her wits. She had succeeded in driving them all away--but for how long? She forced herself to move. She had to find the trapped Thundercats fast, for the demon army would be back, angrier than ever.
Not far below her floated two white cubes, the only things in the dimension that had not absorbed the aura. Immediately she recognized Barthaz's infinity cells and dove toward them. The Thundercats had to be inside, but if so, why weren't there three of them? She focused her esper powers on the two cubes and frowned. She could read nothing from them. Briefly she wondered if this was a trap.
Running her hand along the surface of the first cube gave her no clue. It was neither hot or cold, and no vibrations came from within it. Putting an ear to it, she heard nothing. For all she could sense, it was empty.
But Barthaz wasn't one to waste infinity cells. She had to risk going inside, and like a hologram, she melted through the white wall.
It was as though she'd stepped into a vacuum. Puzzingly, more oppressive whiteness greeted her. If this were a null-sensory chamber, why was there light? She looked up, seeing a body floating limply in mid-air. Quickly, she levitated up to it.
As she gazed at his face, grief pained her heart. That which was Pumyra cried out, and she knew why the light had been left. It was Lynx-O, the blind one, and he was deathly still. Her fingers held his face, and desperately she sought his presence, finding his sensory-deprived mind cold and closed. She withdrew, trembling from the lingering ache of utter loneliness that now encompassed his soul.
"Lynx-O," she whispered. "I am here, my friend." She grasped his hand. "Can you feel me?" Her eyes closed as she concentrated on letting love do what her telepathy could not--reach beyond the darkness.
Pumyra surfaced, taking control and she clutched his hand between both of hers. This old cat was like a father to her--a mentor. "Lynx-O! Please--you old fool, hear me!"
Her love welled up like a spring, flowing into him, her grief and pain intensifying the as she remembered their arguments, their laughter, and their tears through all the years. They had shared so much life--she would not let him go. Several seconds passed, then the Totem of Dera flared brilliant blue. Ever so slightly his fingers twitched.
She grinned, tears brimming her eyes. "Yes, I'm here! Come to me!"
Through Pumyra, Pumala's powerful spirit empathically touched with his fading soul. Straining, she focused on him, reaching beyond his madness, letting her warmth pour into him.
He grabbed hold, desperately embracing the needed contact. His pain flowed into her, his life-force growing stronger as she fed him more and more energy. Hungrily he drew from her, until she could stand no more. She cried out, the link snapping as she slumped over him.
Exhausted, she stayed there for several seconds, unable to move. Gradually her strength returned, rekindling her aura and she lifted her head.
Though he did not awaken, he moaned, slightly moving his head. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm as he floated in the nothingness. Coolness spread within the cube, a gentle breeze carried the scent of roses replacing the staleness. Gently she squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth return to his skin, and she smiled, knowing he would survive. She had won the first battle.
Suddenly a terrible rumbling shook the walls of the cell and she glanced ceilingward. Time was running out. She had to reach the others and restore them as well before she could transport them home. She touched Lynx-O's face, quickly kissing his cheek, then let go.
Hurrying toward the wall, she prayed she wasn't too late, and with a thought, she melted through the shiny barrier.
###
There he is, she thought, a twinge of pity and sorrow touching her heart. Centuries ago, the ground had run red with the blood of the ThunDERian tribes, the charred remains of battle-mutilated bodies littering the war-torn land of L'eng M'rath. The wails of the dying had rung in her ears, the sight of brutal slaughter turning her stomach as she walked the killing fields of what once had been a beautiful country. The sight of that carnage would haunt her forever.
Now more blood was threatening to be spilled.
Barthaz glared back at her, his hostility virtually charging the air around him. After several long seconds a strange greenish glint flashed in his eyes, a smirk slowly turning the corners of his mouth.
She felt the subtle touch of his mind probing at hers, but she was equally as strong telepathically. He would get nowhere.
She grasped the edge of her billowing cloak, holding it down. "So, Barthaz, after all these centuries I see you're as bitter as ever."
"You're damn right I'm bitter!" he said in a low voice. "First you took the Sword from me, then Leonnas stole my kingdom!" His voice became a raspy growl, energy crackling all around his hands as he pointed an accusing finger. "You humiliated me, then imprisoned me! Yes, I'm bitter," he hissed, "and I am here to have my revenge!"
Suddenly his eyes glowed, brilliant bolts shooting from his raised hand, striking her dead center. She screamed, dropping the Staff, pain charging through her entire body as she fell to the snowy ground like a wounded bird.
A shadow fell over her, danger flashing through her cat-senses, and she rolled just as sharp spikes of ice plunged into the frozen ground. Terrible thunder and lightning filled the sky, more snow spilling from the heavens. The chill penetrated her fur, biting into her solar warmth, stealing her strength. She gasped, feeling her powers fade, realizing that he was somehow absorbing her energy. She forced herself to move, to reach for her Staff, grasping it just as his booted foot came down on the shaft. Immediately the emerald jewel's fire dimmed, the Eye closing as it finally faded to nothing. She looked up at his towering dark figure, his eyes glinting green, his smile so white.
"Did you ever hear the Plundarian proverb that revenge is a sweet dish best served cold?" he softly asked. "Whoever spoke those words spoke the truth."
"You pompous ass!" she breathed, glaring up at him, feeling herself grow weaker. "You were the one who misused the Sword of Omens--perverted the Eye of ThunDERa to forge a race of warrior-slaves to serve your own selfish purposes!" Her gaze didn't waver. "You brought this on yourself!"
"I dared to dream of greatness."
"We had to stop you!"
"You merely delayed my plans." He crossed his arms, calmly adding, "You see, this time I shall succeed with only a touch." Slowly he brought his right hand down, extending his index finger. "You were always too trusting, sister," he grated. "A weakness that will cost you your existence."
She damned herself for her carelessness, recalling too late that Barthaz never fought fair. Their eyes met, minds locking in a mental battle that surged like the tides of the ocean. An intense heat glowed between the two ancients as he telepathically bore down on her. Sweat soaked the fur on her face; teeth clenched in an effort to keep him out. His laugh rang in her mind as her resistance crumbled and she cried out.
He bent to touch her forehead to drain her of her etheric energies, a victorious smirk on his face when suddenly a red and gold blur slammed into Barthaz in a flying tackle that sent both it and the ancient rolling.
Ah-Shadeen gripped her Staff, the emerald jewel flashing bright, nature's power surging through her like a wave. Rapidly she absorbed the life-giving warmth, her magic and strength quickly renewing. A harsh roar filled the area and instantly she was on her feet, pivoting toward the fight. Lion-O wrestled with Barthaz, a sizzle of heat filling the air. Ectothermic energy exploded, sending the Thundercat Lord sliding backward through the snow. Barthaz immediately pounced, his fingers latching onto the lion's temples. Lion-O arched, screaming in agony.
Ah-Shadeen's hand snapped out. Chunks of earth flew off the ground, pounding the dark ancient's back.
He reeled, dropping his hold on the Thundercat to turn toward her. Madness and the fury of the centuries were unleashed in his harsh roar. "You'll pay for that, dear sister!" Both fists came up tight, brilliant lights merging with the cold wind. "Or should I call you--Tygreia?"
Mirror-images of Ah-Shadeen's host sprang up all around her, revealing of her past. She recoiled, the mortal part of her stunned by the painful memories reflecting in each panel.
"I'm amazed you'd pick that ill-tempered little wench," his voice echoed. "My host has some rather graphic memories of her. What is the saying on Third Earth? 'Not exactly pure as the driven snow.' Remember the time in the hayloft at Shabirz' farm? My, my!" he said, clucking his tongue.
Ah-Shadeen bristled, her rage boiling up like storm clouds. Her host knew the memory very well. It had been their first intimate encounter, and last. Not soon afterward he had chosen to pair with Fierra. Again the pains of rejection throbbed in her heart. Barely containing herself, she replied, "I know what you're doing, 'Tygra,' and it won't work. This isn't the trials arena." Staff in one hand, she spread her arms, dispersing the illusion with a mere thought.
There he stood, an enigmatic smile on his face. "Isn't it?" he said, his arms spreading wide. "Like that place in time, it's between you and me now. Without your precious Scepter, Leonnas can't help you. Only his descendant, the pitiful Lord of the Thundercats, is here and he can't help you either." Barthaz laughed, his deep resonant voice filling the graveyard.
His mirth died as he sharply turned to glare at Lion-O, flexing his hands into two tight fists. "I want the Sword! Now!"
Lion-O rose to a wobbly stand and growled, "Go stuff yourself!"
"Impudent fool!" Barthaz seethed, magic sizzling the air around him, his hands coming up. "I tire of this game!"
"Lion-O!" Ah-Shadeen shouted. In a burst of starlight, the Scepter materialized in her left hand. Startled, the war-bringer whirled as she hurled the Scepter like a javelin, sailing within inches of his head, straight toward the Thundercat Lord.
He caught it as though it were the Sword of Omens. Blue arcs shot out, a web of starfire wrapping around him. His mouth opened in a silent scream as heaven's power engulfed him, going brighter than the sun.
Anticipation filled Ah-Shadeen as she watched the swirling aura change into an ethereal sparkling rainshower. Color flowed into the rigid figure transforming in its center, shades of auburn creeping into a long mane and beard, the fur on his sinewy arms turning a dark honey-tan.
"No," Barthaz rasped, his fists shaking as he pivoted in her direction. "I saw the Scepter destroyed--smashed to pieces! This can't be!"
"I think not, my darling brother," Ah-Shadeen answered. "What you destroyed a millennia ago was a counterfeit. Do you think Leonnas and I would ever have let you get that close?"
"You striped bitch!" he growled, energy gathering around his hands. Slowly he turned toward her, a murderous look in his eyes.
She stood her ground, thrusting the Staff in front of her to ward off his assault. Silently she prayed for time. All she needed was a few more seconds for the transformation to complete. The Eye in her Staff flared to life as Barthaz' gaze again locked with hers, magic currents heating the air.
"Prepare to join me, Ah-Shadeen," he hissed. "In death!"
Red fire suddenly burst like a flare against the ancient's shoulder. Barthaz cried out in pain, gripping his injury, his nasty snarl echoing in the L'eng.
"No one will join you today, Barthaz!" came a deep voice.
Relief flooded Ah-Shadeen as she and dark wizard turned toward it.
Stellar light radiated from Leonnas, the Ancient of Fire, as he stood tall and strong, his Scepter leveled at Barthaz. The power of the sun glowed in his red and gold armor, its light filling the battlefield.
Ah-Shadeen gave a cold smile as she stood opposite her elder brother, sandwiching a squirming Barthaz between them.
Topaz light from the Scepter burned in the lion's eyes. "I had hoped this day would not come." His brightness reflected off the snowdrifts, the heat turning them to slush. "But I see my prayers were in vain."
"No!" Barthaz rasped.
"Don't force us to fight you, Barthaz" she said. "Give up! You don't stand a chance."
"Leave Tygra's body," Leonnas commanded. "Now!"
Hatred burned in the dark ancient's face, unearthly light filling his eyes. "I'll gladly go to Hell before I obey the likes of you!" His hands snapped out, arms wide, black eldrich fire shooting from his palms.
Immediately Ah-Shadeen and Leonnas shielded themselves, deflecting the deadly magic off their respective barriers.
Ah-Shadeen snarled, rainbow colors exploding from her Staff as she drove the end into the soil. The earth shook, the ground caving away from beneath Barthaz' feet, dropping him into an instant hole. Leonnas turned, his kinetic powers lifting the remains of the stone wall into the air, sending it crashing into the grave Ah-Shadeen had created.
Her mystic eyes burned, her cat senses raging as glittering smoke filled the cold air. Barthaz wasn't there! "Behind us!" she shouted, shoving Leonnas aside.
Black lightning blasted the muddy ground. Barthaz' wicked laugh grew louder. "It'll take more than a magician's trick to stop me," he sneered, walking out of the thick cover of smoke. "It's a wonder the tribes of ThunDERa ever listened to you two incompetent fools!"
Rage curled Ah-Shadeen's lip as she rose from the ground, aiming her Staff. She'd had enough of this arrogant, swaggering, bombastic bore. Leonnas stood, bringing up his Scepter, anger burning in his face as well. Winds howled, cosmic fires shooting from both the ancients' weapons, slamming into Barthaz from both sides.
"The tomb!" Leonnas shouted. "Drive him toward it!"
Barthaz screamed, twisting in the torrent of starfire, arms covering his face as he fought the powerful magic.
Teeth gritted, Ah-Shadeen hurled more and more of her planet-born energy at her foe. Step by step, she and Leonnas drove him back toward the abandoned tomb, back to the darkness. Her heart aching, she bore down on him, knowing that when they sealed him in, they would be condemning the Thundercat Tygra to an eternal hell as his captive. The part of her that was Tygreia shouted for her to stop, that there had to be another way, but Ah-Shadeen knew there was none.
Heat and smoke rose from Barthaz, radiation saturating his whole body, armor and all. Agony twisted his face as he clutched his head and writhed, his fur incinerating, his flesh melting off him like wax. He screamed, his skeleton dissolving as it was consumed by a huge ball of fire. Thunder rolled and crimson lightning burst across the heavens as Ah-Shadeen felt an ominous wave of calm settle across the land of the unliving.
The sulfurous smoke blew away in the freezing winds, leaving a small pile of charred fur, bone-cinders and gray ashes on the stone platform. Incredulously, Ah-Shadeen and Leonnas lowered their weapons and warily approached the mouth of the tomb.
Stunned, she stared at the remains, muttering, "This cannot be."
After his own numb silence, Leonnas murmured, "This is impossible. Barthaz cannot be destroyed."
"Indeed you are right!" Barthaz's voice boomed from above, his mad laugh cutting through the air. A double blast of black light struck Ah-Shadeen and Leonnas, sending them reeling, their weapons flying from their hands.
Her senses spinning, she struggled to get up off the ground, but a heaviness saturated her bones. A strange 'scrunching' sound, like glass scraping against glass, filled her ears as her limbs slowed, resisting her efforts to move. Her vision cleared and she stared, slack-jawed, at her arms.
Onyx ice-crystals covered her armor, growing thicker, spreading fast, immobilizing her arms and legs. She felt herself growing cold as the winter, her life-energy waning as the hard substance started to choke off her empathic link with the natural forces of New ThunDERa. She twisted, reaching for her staff, which lay centimeters from her fingertips. Beyond it, Leonnas tried to stand, barely succeeding in rising up on one knee. The same black diamond-crust encased his arms and legs, spreading like an ugly scab over his body. There, on the ash-covered ground, the fiery gleam of the half-buried scepter twinkled just beyond his reach.
"Ah, how gratifying," Barthaz's disembodied voice echoed. "How I've longed to see this day."
Ah-Shadeen squinted up, trying to pinpoint the location of the voice. "What trickery is this?" she demanded.
His loud laugh grew nastier. "Oh, yes. My host's knowledge of illusion is so good he could make you believe anything. I must say, he definitely has talent." With a magician's flourish, Barthaz reappeared in a puff of yellowish smoke.
"His power of invisibility is an added bonus," he said. Feet planted firmly apart and fists on hips, Barthaz looked down at them. "I will not mince words. You both know my price. Return the Sword of Omens and I may consider sparing you."
Ah-Shadeen growled, "You know the Sword cannot be used for evil! We have seen to that!"
"Ah, that silly curse," he replied with a casual wave of his hand. "It no longer concerns me." His expression grew deadly cold, and he extended his hand, palm up. "Now--the Sword, if you please!"
Now almost completely covered with the gem-crust, Ah-Shadeen glared up at him, hissing her contempt. "Never!" The substance crackled and snapped as it rapidly closed across her chest, going up her neck. Soon it would completely encase her and she would be nothing more than a black quartz statue. Her life-giving link with this new planet would be broken, dooming her and her brother forever.
Scowling, Leonnas took a deep breath. "Very well, Barthaz, you win. The Sword of Omens is yours."
Astounded, Ah-Shadeen barely found her voice. "What?"
Eyebrows raised, Barthaz looked as though he, too, had not heard right.
"Leonnas! No!"
Ignoring her, her brother looked skyward. Unable to raise his hand, he spoke the dreaded words. "Sword of Omens, obey my commands and come forth--now!" His eyes flashed with golden light.
She knew that which was Lion-O inside him had made contact with the ancient weapon, and in a matter of mere moments it would magically transport itself to the L'eng. Still incredulous, she gaped at her brother as if he had lost his mind. "I cannot believe this! Do you realize what you've done?"
"This is an unexpected turn," Barthaz said. He strode over to the kneeling, immobile Leonnas and looked down at the elder with disdain. "You disappoint me. I expected more of a fight out of you--unless this is a trick."
"No, no trick." Leonnas' eyes glittered as he spoke through bared teeth. "I said you could have the sword...."
"...and have it you shall!" Leonnas snarled.
A silver blade erupted through the front of Barthaz's bronze chestplate, dark blood spurting down the ornate metal. The wizard's eyes flew open wide, his mouth working, but no words came out. With a brutal yank, the Sword was torn free, and he collapsed face down, his copper-colored blood smoldering like acid on the ground.
"No," Ah-Shadeen mouthed as light dispersed the shadows. Above Barthaz stood a grim-faced Cheetara, her hands gripping the hilt of the Sword of Omens, its shining, battle-ready blade dripping with blood.
###
Bubbles of light escaped the totem, whipping around, bursting in the thick blackness like small stars, casting brief flashes on the nightmarish realm she had entered. Flickering glimpses of far below wavered like a reflection at the bottom of a well, and there she caught sight of something blue and white.
Abruptly she stopped fighting, the current instantly taking her down, down, down to the very bottom of the nothingness.
She landed on both feet, the totem held tightly against her bosom. The awful centrifugal force ceased, leaving only a soundless, darkened void. In it, the totem was the only source of light and even that was rapidly disappearing into the endless blackness.
Holding the totem like a torch, she illuminated the area. After a moment, she realized the blue and white object she'd glimpsed earlier was nearby. Cautiously, she approached it.
Curled into a fetal ball, Bengali lay on the ebony floor, unmoving, his eyes fixed in a vacant stare. She knelt beside him, gently touching the sweat-soaked fur on his forehead. With a sharp gasp, she recoiled, crying out. Where a bright spirit should have been, there was nothing but the cold remains of a tortured soul. Embers of his dying spirit still glowed, but she knew that soon they would disappear.
Head in hand, she slumped, tears sliding down her cheeks, sparkling as they fell on the white tiger's face. She was too late. She touched the side of his face in a tender caress, the feeling of failure weighing her down.
The Totem of Dera hung loosely in her hand. The power supply she had brought with her from the cosmic plane was now dangerously low. She would have to choose: use the energy to return to the physical plane or give it to Bengali that he might survive until Ah-Shadeen could reach him. For only she could save him now. Her gaze rested on the white tiger's vacant ice-blue eyes. To give the energy to him would doom Pumyra and herself.
She hesitated, not wanting to make the choice. Gently, a subtle warmth began to burn deep inside her, growing into a strong and wonderful feeling. The azure totem's fire surged. A sad smile turned the corners of her mouth, for she knew Pumyra had answered her question.
"I love you, Bengali-Sur," she whispered then touched his chest with the totem, releasing all the power left within it. "Remember me," she said softly, her mouth covering his with a soft kiss.
Slowly Bengali's wooden expression faded, his gaze connecting with hers. Trembling, he reached for her, his hand moving ever so slowly until their fingers connected, intertwining like their spirits. At that moment, the totem's light blossomed into the brilliance of a newborn sun.
###
"Dear Jaga," she choked.
The spell broken, the onyx diamonds encasing the lynx and the lion crumbled like dry sand, falling away as the two cats hurried over.
"No," Cheetara whispered, kneeling beside Tygra, her horror multiplying tenfold at the sight of his bloodied back. Gingerly she turned him over, his head lolling to the side, the black look of death filling his eyes. He took one last, deep, ragged breath and was still.
Barthaz' image flashed over her friend's face, terrifying memories coming in rapid-fire succession across her mind: the white nothingness, Arexus, then Lion-O! No, not Lion-O--Barthaz! His arms crushed her against him, his mouth covering hers. She fought him and lost. Trembling, she closed her eyes. She could still taste him--feel him...
and then...blessed oblivion, until she heard a voice; Lion-O's voice. She had awakened in a strange place on a cold stone platform with the Sword of Omens in her hand, her mate compelling her slay Barthaz. Anger fueled her obedience, hatred pouring into that one thrust of the Sword, making her forget his true identity.
For several seconds she stayed there, denying her screaming sixth sense, but what she saw could not be denied. Again, Tygra's body shimmered with that same sickly green glow.
"Ah-Shadeen," the lion said, extending his hand. "Barthaz will rise. We must form the pyramid now."
"But there are only two of us, Leonnas," she replied, moving to stand opposite him.
"Lady Cheetara, you must help us," Leonnas said. "Lady Cheetara!"
"What?" She snapped from her trance just as the red jewel in the hilt blazed angrily to life, danger warnings from it thrilling across her soul.
"Raise the Sword to the sky," Leonnas said. "Command it as your husband would."
She stood, facing the two cats, the Sword in her hand hanging down at her side. "That's not possible! Only the Lord of Thundercats can command the Sword."
"The one who holds it can command it, but it must be commanded from the goodness of the heart."
Something in the being's tone sounded so familiar, almost as if Lion-O were speaking. She had never seen this cat until a few minutes ago, yet she felt as if she had known him for a long time.
"We must hurry," Ah-Shadeen said, "or Barthaz will escape."
The green glow around Tygra had transformed to a hideous iridescent blue that grew hotter and brighter by the moment. Dream or not, after all that had transpired, somehow she knew she had to trust these two. Gripping the haft of the Sword, she held it aloft, praying she had the strength to keep it there.
The emerald cat's eye in Ah-Shadeen's staff blazed to life as she lifted it and said, "By the Staff of Creation--"
"...and the Scepter of Fire--" Leonnas added, holding it aloft, the topaz jewel suddenly glaring with light.
Cheetara looked beyond her hands, up the long silver blade still stained with blood. Familiar tingling sensations spread from the Sword through her, touching her mind and her heart. Adrenalin surged as she exclaimed, "And the Sword of Omens...."
"We call forth the Pyramid of Eternity!" the ancients chorused.
The Sword, the Staff and the Scepter roared, brilliant light flaring from their jeweled eyes. Green, yellow and red beams shot upward, connecting directly above Tygra's glowing body. A deafening roar filled the land as all three mystic eyes opened, the pupils simultaneously twisting into the black cougar-head symbols.
Static crackled all around, making Cheetara's mane stand out, bristling her fur. Teeth gritted, she tightened her grip on the pulsating sword. Suddenly, a crimson beam shot straight from the ruby to the emerald, the emerald to the topaz, then from the topaz to the ruby, forming a base just in time.
Ash-colored smoke rose from Tygra's body, shifting shape as it collected in the energy-field's apex, transforming into Barthaz's ghostly image. For a moment the spirit hovered inside it, his look of astonishment giving way to sheer terror as the light-field below him blazed into existence, trapping him.
Ah-Shadeen's voice rose. "In the light of Truth, Honor, Justice and Loyalty, Sword of Omens, take this darkness into the light--"
"Forever!" the cats said in unison.
The Sword growled, its light turning blood-red. Barthaz bellowed, his nails clawing the sides of the energy pyramid as the retracting beam pulled it and him into the Eye of ThunDERa. In seconds, the Eye closed, the blade reverting to inactive, the thunderous storm of energies dying quickly away.
Drained of strength, Cheetara dropped her arms, the steaming sword dangling from her right hand. Her aching shoulders slumped, her eyes closing as she sucked in a deep breath, her hand covering her face.
Gently, a large hand rested on her shoulder. "Lady Cheetara, are you all right?"
Her head snapped up, tears stinging her eyes as she glared at Leonnas. "No, I'm not all right! My companions are missing, I've been through hell, and I've killed my best friend! How do you think I feel?"
His gaze dropped, a sadness dampening his radiance. "I'm sorry, but there was no other way. To make Barthaz vulnerable, his vessel had to be destroyed."
"Had to be," she whispered bitterly, "and I was your pawn."
A pained look darkened the ancient's face, a strong surge of sorrow rushing through her life-bond, the emotion intensifying when he took her hand. "Yes," he replied. "It was my will that awakened you, and through your bond to your husband I placed the Sword into your hands, for mine could not move."
Solemnly Ah-Shadeen knelt beside Tygra's limp body, tenderly touching his face. Sharply, she looked up. "Leonnas, Tygra's spirit has not risen. It is weak, but still present! We still have time to act."
Cheetara looked from one cat to the other as she realized who these two were. "Dear Jaga," she whispered, nearly dropping the Sword.
Leonnas frowned at his sister, then went to kneel by the body, his large hand resting on the tiger's bloodied chest. "Yes, his soul is still present--but not for long. The fire is almost gone, and that is the one fire I am forbidden to rekindle."
Ah-Shadeen shook her head. "But the fire is not out. The embers are still there."
"Barely."
"We can revive it!"
"To do that would require another's spirit."
Cheetara gazed at Tygra's face, so still, so empty of life--the life she had taken--the life she could give back. She took a deep breath and said, "Then I offer my spirit. Give him my life-force so he may live. "
Leonnas' eyes grew dark and he abruptly stood, facing her. "No! I forbid that!"
Cheetara gasped and took a step back, recognizing the emotional aura inside Leonnas. "Lion-O?" she whispered.
"We haven't time to argue this out!" Ah-Shadeen said. "We must act now!"
Then, my friend, came a soft voice, it is I who will give of my life-force.
Cheetara spun, a chill prickling the fur down her spine as she recognized a voice she hadn't heard in aeons. Sparkling whiteness gathered above Tygra's body, and a ghost materialized. "By the stars," she said, hand going to her mouth. "Fierra?"
The spirit smiled warmly. "Cheetara, I thank you, but I cannot let you do this. You have so much life ahead of you." She turned to the ancients, her arms outstretched. "Ah-Shadeen, Leonnas, without true death I would wander this physical plane forever. Therefore I offer my spirit-fire so that he may live. In life, Tygra was my mate until fate forced us apart. Please, let us finally be together as one."
Leonnas glanced at Ah-Shadeen, who gave a slight nod of agreement. He turned to the specter and said, "You know the consequences?"
"Aye, my lord, I do."
"Then enter the shell so the binding may take place," he replied.
Fierra's glowing form knelt beside Tygra and she bent over him, her smile going even brighter as she placed her hand over his heart. 'I love you,' she mouthed.
Speechless, Cheetara watched her melt into Tygra's body, his fingers and toes involuntarily twitching until the merging became complete.
Ah-Shadeen held her Staff, its emerald jewel burning brightly against the fallen Thundercat's bloody chest. "From the cold embrace of winter comes the warm renewal of spring. The circle of life is never-ending." Pure green energy channeled from her cat's eye, flowing into Tygra's body. The clay-like earth around him began to soften and move until he began to sink into it. "ThunDERa, take your son into your bosom--heal his spirit and flesh so that he may be whole once more."
The soil swallowed Tygra completely, the head of the Staff with him. Cheetara stood frozen to the spot as the two powerful beings continued to work, afraid any motion would break the spell.
"Goodbye, Fierra," Ah-Shadeen whispered, tears glistening as she closed her eyes.
At last, Leonnas raised his wand, its fiery light burning like a star in the night sky. He smiled at Cheetara, his hand resting on his sister's shoulder. "Stand ready," he said softly and brought the glowing Scepter down to touch the Staff. "Let what was, be once more!"
Starfire exploded from the crossed weapons, the ancients standing in the center of a storm of light. Cheetara cringed, quickly shielding her eyes with her free arm. Air surged, the backdraft sucking dirt and debris upward and outward, returning it in a mighty gust. The winds pulled her back, dragging her around, the biting sands pelting against her body.
The Sword hummed, her fist closing tighter around the haft until her nails cut into her palm. Abruptly the hot-flash cooled, the air growing still once more. Sound slowly replaced the eerie silence, the blinding after-image of light finally fading from her vision. Breathless, she pushed the strands of her frazzled mane from her face, trying to blink away the dust and tears. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn't even had time to think, let alone breathe.
Astonishment held her tongue as she slowly turned around.
Sunlight filled the lavender sky of ThunDERa, bathing the lush, grass-covered ground in warmth. Bushes and trees grew as green as the first days of spring, clumps of coral, white and amethyst wild flowers dotting the landscape, their many fragrances carrying in a gentle breeze. Ancient marble and granite monuments stood restored to their original splendor from ages ago.
L'eng M'rath was free.
Relief flooded Cheetara when she saw Lion-O and a vaguely familiar tigress standing where Leonnas and Ah-Shadeen had been. Behind them stood Lynx-O, Bengali and Aja, all snapping out of some kind of trance. She dropped the Sword of Omens, running to her life-mate.
Her arms slid around his waist as she hugged him tight. "Thank Jaga!" she said, looking up at him. "Are you all right?"
Lion-O nodded his head, squinting as if he had seen too much light. "Yes...just dazzled."
"Pumyra?" a dazed Bengali rasped. "Where's Pumyra?"
"And Tygra!" Cheetara said, suddenly letting go of Lion-O.
As if in answer, a golden light suddenly burned on the platform before the morning-glory-and-ivy-draped tomb. Sparkles of fire appeared in it as the energy gradually solidified into the supine forms of Pumyra and Tygra, the Staff and Scepter flanking them.
Bengali scrambled for the slab, Cheetara and the others quickly following him.
Eyes closed, Pumyra lay with the Totem of Dera resting on her bosom. Beside her was Tygra, his dirty uniform tattered and bloody. Both cats were still as death.
Anxiously, the white tiger reached for her, touching her face. The gem in the totem flared, a bluish aura charging around her body, then spreading to Tygra. Suddenly, both cats began to breathe, their chests rising and falling in a soft, steady rhythm.
His voice trembled. "She's alive." He grinned, his eyes growing moist. "She's alive!"
Cheetara held onto Lion-O as she watched the short tigress kneel beside Tygra and press her fingers against his neck. Mixed emotions twisted her insides as she gazed at his face, the image of Barthaz appearing over it. She turned her head away, eyes closing as her claws dug into Lion-O's belt.
After several seconds, Lion-O asked, "Tygreia?"
"He's warm," she replied. "And his pulse is strong."
A distinct rustle of grass sounded and Cheetara looked up, seeing Lynx-O and Aja approach the edge of the stone floor. They stood there, his hands resting on the young woman's shoulders. Silently, woodenly, she stared down at Tygra, her face devoid of expression.
Tygreia rose, suddenly looking up at the sky. "By the Star," she breathed "The curse--it's been broken!"
"Yes," Lion-O said. "The curse is no longer needed with Barthaz imprisoned within the Sword. What he sought to possess now possesses him. We're free of the fear of L'eng M'rath."
"You remember what happened?" Cheetara asked.
"Yes," he replied. "All of it."
A spark of fear flitted through her and her gaze again rested on Tygra's peaceful face. Had it all been real or just an illusion? And, she wondered solemnly, would he remember anything of his time as Barthaz or...what he'd done?
Her eyes closed again, and she let her head rest on Lion-O's shoulder. If he didn't, this was one piece of history she'd never reveal.
###
She was leaving and thank Jaga, the Thundercats had understood. Though reluctantly, Lion-O had granted her request and had Panthro put out a sub-space call. That had been three days ago. Now in a matter of minutes, a ship would arrive to carry her away from New ThunDERa.
As if frozen in time she stared at her image, her hand slowly going to rest upon her chest. The invisible wound running the length of her heart throbbed and tears welled up again as the remembered words came back strong and clear.
"Very well," Tygra said softly. "If that is what you wish, Aja, I won't stop you from going." And he turned away from her to gaze out his bedroom window, as silent and distant as the moon.
Aja backed away, pausing at his bed-chamber door, waiting to see if he would even look at her. But he didn't. Hurt, she exited, letting the door quietly close between them.
Her eyes squeezed shut, the pain cutting like razor blades across her soul. If there had been no love between them at all, why was this emptiness, this ache, inside her? But it was only in her soul, and her soul alone--not his. She had tried, had actually come to love him, but--he hadn't loved her.
There was a knock at her door and she sniffled, rapidly wiping her eyes to hide the tears. "Come," she managed to say.
The door slid aside and Tygreia entered, carrying Garthe. The little boy-cub squealed with delight, his arms going out to his mother. Her heart broke into a million pieces, the unstoppable tears coming faster as she took her cub in her arms, hugging him and kissing the crown of his head.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Tygreia asked softly.
She swallowed hard, clearing her voice. "I must. For those I loved and lost, I have to."
"Are you sure you're not just running away?"
Aja looked at the tigress she'd just recently come to know. Tygreia was a kindred spirit, bearing much more pain than she would ever let show. "No," she answered, "I am sure of that."
Tygreia nodded. "You know, I ran away from a lot of things when I was younger." She went to the window and gazed out at the cloud-filled sky. "You see, years ago, I fell in love with a wonderful man, but the feeling wasn't mutual. He chose my sister instead, and for a long time, I hated him for that, and I wanted to punish him--see him suffer. I blamed him for a lot of things I brought on myself." Hands firmly on the sill, she bowed her head. "I don't want you to fall into the same bitter trap I did, because all it will cause you is grief."
Aja blinked, her eyes not leaving Tygreia's sunlit profile. It was so eerie. She looked so much like Lady Fierra it was unsettling. Memories came forth of Lady Fierra and how she always spoke of her sister 'Greia...as in Tygreia!
Suddenly, Aja realized who she was talking about. Compassion warmed her, and she gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "This man...you still love him, don't you?"
"Yes," Tygreia whispered. "After all these years." Her tail twitched, the effort to hold back her emotions showing on her face. "Silly, isn't it? There's such a fine line between love and hate." "There sure is," she said in full agreement.
"I've only known you a week," Tygreia said, touching Aja's hand, "but I know I will miss you greatly."
"And I'll miss you," Aja replied.
Holding her son close, Aja too looked out the window, letting the quiet surround her. Finally, she said, "'Greia, I've been wanting to ask you something, but I wasn't sure how." She paused, trying to frame the question, at last finding the words. "Would you take my son as your own?"
Surprise registered in the rise of Tygreia's eyebrows. "Why--I would be very honored, but what about his father?"
"I think you'll be able to handle the father better than the cub."
Tygreia smiled, giving Aja a hug that made Garthe squirm. "Yes, of course I'll raise him as my own. Thank you, little sister. I'll make sure he will be very proud of his mother."
The intercom sounded, Panthro's deep voice coming over the speaker. "Fifteen minutes, Aja."
"I've got to go," she said, turning away to pick up her duffel bag.
"Will you see Tygra before you leave?"
She stopped, her back straightening. Her eyes watered as she realized he would probably not be there to see her off.
"No, there's nothing more to say. Tell him--tell him goodbye for me." Then she went out the door with her son, unable to look back.
###
A sadness he couldn't shake claimed him, invading the numbness he felt inside. No matter how logical he tried to be about all of this, it wouldn't go away. Aja was leaving New ThunDERa to go home and he couldn't stop her. When he had "died," their bond had broken and Aja had become a free woman--free to do as she pleased.
He took a deep breath to clear his head, trying to sort all this out. His memory was hazy about what had happened in L'eng M'rath, and maybe he didn't want to know, but one thing was apparent. He felt different inside, whole again, stronger, renewed in body as well as in spirit.
Lion-O's and Cheetara's voices sounded in the hall as they passed by his door, discussing Aja's departure. His whisper of sadness returned. Maybe there was something he could do to stop Aja. Should he even try, after all the pain and tears he had caused her? He shook his head, stopping the flow of thoughts.
"How I wish I could turn back the clock," he murmured.
The door buzzer sounded and he turned. "Enter."
The doors parted and there stood Tygreia, all five feet of her. "I see you're finally moving around. She's leaving in ten minutes. You are coming, aren't you?"
"Of course I am."
"Good," Tygreia said, "because if you weren't, I was going to kick your butt." She extended her elbow. "Allow me to escort you, sir." Tygra allowed himself a small smile, accepting the help. Tygreia was still as feisty as ever.
Slowly, the two exited his room, the hesitation in his steps the only remaining evidence of his injuries. Wordlessly, they made their way down the hall to the waiting lift. In seconds they were descending to the ground floor.
Finally Tygra broke the silence. "Umm, Tygreia, about what happened in the L'eng...I've been meaning to talk to you about it, but I haven't had the strength--or the nerve."
Tygreia's eyebrows rose, her tail twitching slightly. "Oh?"
"I wanted to thank you--for saving my life."
Tygreia didn't say a word, just merely looked up at him. The lift doors opened to the vast reception area of the Lair and they stepped off the elevator.
It was a gathering of Thundercats, a definitely welcome sight. Tygra smiled, a feeling of wellness, of being loved, surrounding him. Standing next to Lion-O was Cheetara, little Lia in her arms. Clinging to Bengali's arm was Pumyra, the tell-tale showing of her third eyelids the only sign she was still recovering from her ordeal. Lynx-O, WilyKit and WilyKat closed the circle, each glad to see him here.
Lion-O laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank Jaga. I was hoping you'd be here."
"And have you face that bird by yourself?" Tygra retorted. "Not on your life."
"I'm glad you showed up," Pumyra said, giving a weary smile. "Because if you hadn't, I was coming after you!"
"Ha!" Bengali laughed, smiling back. "And I would've carried you. I think you should still be in bed."
She elbowed him in the ribs. "And I said I feel fine."
"I've been told healers make the worst patients," Tygreia commented dryly. "I see the saying is true."
"Very true," Tygra said, giving a slight bow to Bengali and Pumyra. "Congratulations on your bonding."
"Thank you," he answered, his hand covering hers. "Our Handfasting will be in approximately two weeks." He grinned at her. "I will say, it took me long enough to catch her."
The group laughed as Pumyra looked down, obviously embarrassed. The merriment subsided and Tygra looked around. "Ah--is Garthe with Aja?"
"They're outside," came Panthro's voice. All turned as the great panther descended the curve of the stairs. "Alle-Ma's ship is on approach and will touch down in the courtyard in a few minutes."
An alien chill traveled down Tygra's spine. The very thought of Aja going back to Aviir turned his stomach, but he couldn't say anything. There was nothing he could do to stop her, nothing at all....
Suddenly he straightened, a singular determination flaring inside him. "Excuse me," he said and left the group, moving as fast as he could toward the front doors and the courtyard.
In seconds, he was outside. Waiting at the foot of the stairs was Aja, Garthe on her hip and a small bundle at her feet. Slowly she looked over her shoulder, her face showing no emotion.
Damning the pain in his legs, he hurried to her, grasping her firmly by the shoulders. "Aja," he said, looking into her topaz eyes. "Please--" "No, Tygra--don't say anything." She took a deep breath and looked toward the sky. "No words will change my mind. I must do this--for my parents--for those we lost."
"But you don't belong there!"
Tears glistened in her eyes. "There are ThunDERians still on that planet. Since we now have a world of our own again, I want to bring them home." Solemnly she regarded Tygra. "I must do this--for my mother and father--for me."
In the sky, a falcon-like ship appeared against the distant clouds, a distinct roar of engines filling the air. It grew larger as it drew nearer, its details becoming visible to the naked eye. Tygra's heart started to pound as he watched the craft hover, then gently settle down onto the landing pad.
The other Thundercats gathered on the front steps, watching silently as a ramp dropped from under the ship's belly. Light from within it glared onto the smooth metal platform as a dark, feathered figure, clad in a black tunic, descended the steps.
A moment of silence as cold as steel passed by as Alle-Ma A-Quilla looked down from the gangway. Tygra grasped Aja's hand, a lump forming in his throat as he stared at his former enemy.
Lion-O stepped forward. "Greetings, Alle-Ma of Aviir. Welcome to New ThunDERa."
After a moment Alle-Ma answered, "Greetings, Lord Lion-O. I must say--this place looks a lot better than the dustball I met you on." She studied the group, her gaze lingering on Lion-O. "You all look well. I wish I had more time to visit, but I'm on a tight schedule." Hand on one hip, she turned to Aja. "It's time, kitten. Are you ready to go home?"
"I'm ready." Aja hugged Garthe, the little boy clinging tightly to her. "I love you, baby." Tears fell as she kissed her son's forehead, then handed him to Tygra. "You must stay with your father now--and one day--" She swallowed hard, her voice nearly breaking. "One day, I'll be back."
"Aja," Tygra whispered. "Don't go."
Her eyes glistened like dark water. "Take care of our son," she said softly, her lips lightly brushing against his. "I love you," she whispered, then picked up her bundle and hurried toward the starcraft.
"Maa!" Garthe cried, reaching for his mother.
Tygra held onto his cub, grief stabbing at him as he watched Aja join Alle-Ma on the ramp. The two embraced, then went into the ship, the hatch closing behind them.
Silence descended on the courtyard. All the Thundercats stood still as the Stone Giants, not uttering a sound. Tygra knew all eyes were on him, but at that moment he did not care--he finally knew what the sadness inside him meant. Tears filled his eyes as he hugged his crying son. "I love you, too, Rhajana," he said, using her real name for the first time. "May you find happiness wherever you go."
