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 chatterin