Dawn of Peace
By Cheezey
Part Four
Lion-O strode through the marketplace of New Thundera City in a fine mood. He did not have much on his mind; things were relatively calm as far as state and clan matters went, and he had not been in the market district of the city in some time. Back on the old Thundera, the nobles and especially the Lord did not travel to such places without an entourage, and they usually had their attendants purchase things for them, but that was not the lifestyle in which Lion-O had been raised and he enjoyed maintaining closeness with his people. Lion-O was thought of as a kind and benevolent Lord, like many before him, but also as an approachable one and a true friend to even the most common Thunderian. While outright snobbery had always been frowned upon, on Old Thundera there had still been an aura of inapproachability to the Lord of the Thundercats, and few ever spoke to him as though he was just another lion.
He stopped by a confectioner’s stand that had all manner of sweets and treats. “Snarf sure would love this, even if he wouldn’t let the cubs have any,” he chortled as he eyed a particularly scrumptious looking batch of nutty candies. A few moments later he decided that the temptation was too good to pass up, and asked the merchant for a pound of them.
“Lord Lion-O!” the plump jaguar behind the counter exclaimed. “This is an honor! Would you like to try a sample?”
“I’m sure they’re delicious, but you can twist my arm,” Lion-O replied with a grin, while the man handed him one of the candies. He also retrieved a plate from behind the cart with other samples on it.
“Feel free to try some of these if you like.”
Lion-O gladly helped himself and smiled back at the merchant like an unsupervised cub given free license to raid the candy box. “Oh, these are great! I’ll take a bag of some of these back, too. I’m sure they’ll be a hit.”
The merchant grinned. “Wonderful! It’s a ringing endorsement indeed to have the approval of the Lord of the Thundercats!” He measured out the candies and handed the sack of them to Lion-O. “Will there be anything else? Alynxia would never forgive me if I didn’t recommend a fizzy candyfruit ale from her shop across the way to wash it all down. Candies always make me thirsty, and hers is the best in the city. She brews it all herself, from her great grandmother’s recipe.”
“Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll check it out.” Lion-O handed the merchant his money and set off across the way. He had not even made it across the street when an insistent tug on his arm caught him by surprise. He turned and saw an elderly white tigress looking up at him with a sense of urgency. “Madam, are you all right?”
“Lord Lion-O,” she said, her ice blue eyes staring right into his. “I am fine, but I come with a warning from the stars.” Her voice softened, although it retained an edge, and she clutched at his arm a touch more desperately.
“Warning? What do you mean?” Lion-O replied, and gently put his hand over the tigress’ bony fingers to calm her and separate her from him. It was not that he recoiled from her touch so much as his intuition made him feel as though he should be on edge.
“Please listen to me, my Lord. I study the star maps of the ancients and our ancestors, and a troubling alignment is beginning to come into place.” She looked at him in a way that made him feel as though she was trying to stare into the very depths of his soul. “We tigers are not the only ones who have seen it; jaguar mystics have also taken note of it, as have lynxes and lion shamans. We’ve talked and agreed that for the good of New Thundera and the Thundercats that you should be warned.”
Lion-O frowned. “Warned about what?”
“The stars converge into a portal of darkness. In a little over a year’s time it will grow in power as it did once before, and consume one of your own.” The tigress tightened her fingers around Lion-O’s arm. “Protect them with the Eye of Thundera. Do not let your brother or sister Thundercat wander astray.”
The words were ominous, but Lion-O did not feel any sense of foreboding as he listened to her. The Sword of Omens, on his hip as usual, also remained inert. Smiling kindly at her, he patted her hand. “You have my word as Lord of the Thundercats that I and the Eye of Thundera always watch our people and all of New Thundera. We will do everything in our power to keep them from harm.”
The tigress was not reassured. “Of course, my Lord. But be careful… evil finds many paths to work its insidious influences. Do not be caught off guard in these times of peace. Heed my words, Lord Lion-O. The darkness will fall. Do not let it consume the Thundercats—as it once almost did.” Her grip tightened to the point that her claws grazed against his flesh, and as he started she gasped and released him, stepping back. “I’m sorry, my Lord. Forgive my exuberance. But I fear for the Thundercats. Many of us do. What the stars foretell can not be avoided, only directed.”
He held up his hand. “It’s all right, but please, don’t worry,” he said in his best attempt to quell her fears. “Mumm-Ra was banished four years ago, but we learned then that even after a long time, evil such as his can’t be destroyed and can always come back. We’ll never be as complacent as we were before the Battle of the Swords that he’s gone forever. If he somehow finds a way to return from wherever the Mighty Sword banished him, we’ll fight him. He will not destroy the Thundercats. You have my oath on that.”
“Of course you will. All of New Thundera has faith in you, Lord Lion-O.” She smiled at him, although it was wan and weary. “But remember… there is evil other than that of Mumm-Ra in the universe. Evil forces more ancient and ambiguous that derive their power from sources other than ancient spirits. Be on your guard, kind Lord of New Thundera.” She bowed in an almost reverent manner and then skittered off into the crowd, leaving him stunned.
“That was strange,” he murmured to himself, and then began walking again, trying to shake off the old woman’s ominous words. He glanced up at the clear blue sky and then around him in the bustling but calm market square and tried to imagine something as terrible as the tigress spoke of coming to pass. Even if Mumm-Ra did return, we wouldn’t let him destroy New Thundera. We know we have the power to stop him. We even have new allies we gained from our last battle with him to call on for aid if we need it. The sound of a bird chirping from a nearby rooftop chipped away at the sense of unease that his encounter with the tigress had stirred. He reached absently into the candy bag and popped one into his mouth. Its chewy sweet texture and taste were like a fresh burst of cheer that made her dire warning seem all the more like the fears of a superstitious old cat rather than something to be truly afraid of. One hand drifted down to the Sword of Omens in the claw shield, still asleep and at peace.
“Things will be fine,” Lion-O said aloud as he made his way back to his vehicle. “Just fine.”
It was several hours past dawn when Monkian awoke. He had slept on his old bed in Castle Plundarr, which was still sort of functional, in that it was intact. What bedding had been on it was so tattered and moldy that it turned even his less than delicate Mutant nose, and he wound up tearing everything off it and sleeping on the slab with a blanket from his ship. As it turned out, he had been more tired than he thought and slept quite a while. He was surprised to see the sun high in the sky—a sight more easily noticed through Castle Plundarr’s shattered windows and drafty holes than it had once been—and quickly hopped up hoping that he could wrap up his business on Third Earth once and for all.
When he went outside, he saw a small package on the slab just inside one of the stone arches that framed Castle Plundarr’s main entrance. It was a crudely wrapped bundle with a wooden arrow that had two green feathers tied to it through the top. So Zalea had already come and gone, he mused. As he bent down and picked it up, Monkian felt a small and unexpected stab of disappointment. He supposed he would not see the warrior woman again, as he had no plans to ever return to Third Earth. He already had not prior to that trip, but especially after staying in the ruin of the once impressive Castle Plundarr, the point that there was nothing for a Mutant there on Third Earth had been driven home in spades. He had gotten quite used to such luxuries as properly functioning plumbing and hot meals made from something other than locally hunted and foraged slop in his recent years at his nephew’s estate, and he definitely had no burning desire to take up the wild and uncertain lifestyle of pillaging Third Earth once again.
He unwrapped the bundle Zalea had left and found that it contained what looked like two prepared poultices tightly wrapped in an animal skin, and a crudely fashioned bottle made from some sort of treated dried fruit shell that had a carved lid that fastened with a screwing mechanism. He opened it and saw more of a salve, presumably the same that had been prepared, only more concentrated in a waxy form. The scent it gave off was potent enough to clear his sinuses in one whiff. He quickly re-capped it and tied the satchel back up, figuring that between that and the few other odds and ends he had salvaged from Vultureman’s old lab that there was enough to make the trek there worthwhile. Casting one final look around the area that had once been his home, he committed the sight to memory and boarded his ship without looking back. A few minutes later the engines roared to life and Monkian was deep in space, headed back home to Plundarr.
Monkian’s ship had just cleared the border of the system when his stomach growled and he realized that he had not bothered to look for anything to eat back on Third Earth. Anything that might have been in Castle Plundarr he would not have touched with a ten-foot spear anyhow given the condition of the fortress itself and how long it had been abandoned, but it occurred to him that it might have been wise to at least scout around the trees for fresh fruits or nuts. He let out an irritated grumble and resigned himself to the space rations on the ship; standard survival fare and a bit of his nephew’s wife’s home-smoked jerky. The meat she used to make it was a secret that she refused to divulge to anyone, but its spicy-sweet flavor reminded him of snarf chops. Of course, since the Battle of the Swords, Ratar-O had officially made hunting and purchase of snarfs for slavery or food against the law as a courtesy to their Thunderian allies, but that did not mean that certain Mutants did not look the other way or try too hard to stop illegal importation of it. After all, what was done on worlds other than Plundarr was beyond the Mutant Warrior King’s control.
The hungry simian left the ship on auto pilot and headed to the back chamber of the ship to retrieve the rations when he found something he had not expected—Zalea, sound asleep. The warrior maiden’s head rested upon a pile of wire and tarps that he had pulled out of one of the compartments while looking for something on the way there that he had not bothered to put back in, since in its state of disarray it would need to be unfolded and re-wrapped to fit in the cramped storage bin. “Hoo, Zalea? What are you doing here?” he demanded, nudging her with his foot.
Zalea blinked and stirred, and then was on her feet in a flash. “I fell asleep!” she exclaimed, clearly as taken by surprise as Monkian was. “I, well… I came by Castle Plundarr to leave you your salve, but you were sleeping soundly so I didn’t want to rouse you,” she explained. “And I was curious about your ship, and I didn’t think you’d mind if I took a look around. I didn’t touch much of anything.”
“And you fell asleep here?” the incredulous Mutant asked.
“Not on purpose.” She folded her arms, her tone taking a mildly defensive edge. “I figured I’d wait and see if you turned up, and while I was waiting, I got thirsty and had a bit to drink.” She put her hand on a water skin attached to her quiver. “I hadn’t eaten enough, I guess, and Mikia must’ve made it stronger than usual on top of it.”
Monkian eyed her dubiously. “Hoo, you got drunk?”
“Sleepy, thank you very much!”
The simian could not help but chortle. “I get that way after I’ve had a few flasks full of whiskey too.”
Zalea frowned, although she was not quite sure what whiskey was, she got the gist of his meaning from the context and his bemused, if not condescending, tone. “Well if you’d rather I not be in your ship, all you had to do was say so. I see you found what I left you, so I’ll leave you with it.” She started for the door.
Monkian’s eyes widened in alarm and in an agile leap he jumped in front of the warrior woman and blocked her passage. “Hoo! Don’t open that! You’ll kill us both.”
His tone caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t know you were in here when I took off. We’re already in space,” he told her, and gave her a funny look as the implications of it sank in for them both. “You’re on your way back to Plundarr with me.”
“Plundarr?” Zalea repeated, her normally confident voice now little more than a frightened whisper. “I—I’m in space?”
“Yes. We’re not even in the same system as Third Earth anymore.” He pointed to the doorway that led to the bridge area, where there were windows so she could see for herself. “Look there if you don’t believe me.”
Zalea ran through the arch and gasped as she saw what looked to her like the clearest night sky she had ever seen surrounding them from top to bottom with no ground anywhere. “It’s night—but in the day,” she breathed in amazement. “And all around!”
“That’s what it looks like in space. Day and night like with the sun and light only happen on a planet. In space it always looks like this. You see space when it’s night because the sun isn’t affecting the atmosphere.”
Pursing her lips and trembling with apprehension, Zalea looked from him back to the incredible sight beyond the window. “I don’t really understand what you mean. Do you mean the air when you say atmosphere? And there’s no air out there?”
“No. It’s a vacuum.” When she looked back at him blankly, he let out a grunt of frustration. Explaining technical things to primitives was tedious; ironically it was similar to the sentiment Vultureman often had in the past when trying to explain his inventions to Monkian himself. “It means that you need a ship to travel in it because you can’t breathe.”
“Oh, like swimming!” Zalea said with a hint of understanding. “Like if you breathe in the water, you drown.”
Monkian nodded, relieved that she comprehended that much. “Kind of like that.”
“It’s incredible. I don’t think any of my people have ever seen something like this,” she said looking through the window pane once more. “Even Queen Willa never went with the Thundercats into space. Wait until I tell them about it!”
“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Monkian said flatly. “I told you, we’re on our way to Plundarr, and I never intended to come back to Third Earth.”
Alarmed, Zalea whirled around. “What? You can’t just… just take me and leave me there!”
“Hoo, yes I can,” Monkian countered. “You stowed away on my ship, and even if I wanted to turn around and take you back, I don’t have the fuel to turn around, take you home, and then get back to Plundarr myself.”
“I didn’t ‘stow away’! I was curious and fell asleep!”
“Either way, you wound up on my ship after I took off. You might as well get comfortable and enjoy your ride to Plundarr.” He sat back down in the pilot’s seat to consider what exactly to do with Zalea when he got to his home world. Humans were considered little better than animals and if permitted to dwell amongst Mutants, it was only as slaves. He knew Zalea well enough to know how she would take to being treated as such. She would end up killed for impudence in less than a month, if she even made it to an auction block. He supposed he could go through the effort of keeping her, but he did not want to have a permanent slave to baby-sit, especially one he had an awkward sort of friendship with. Zalea was too stubborn to accept such a change in the dynamic of their relationship and he was certain she would do something stupid like try and run off to prove something. He groaned under his breath. What a mess. He did not like the complication of actually being fond of slave fodder.
Zalea, meanwhile, paced like a trapped animal. “If you don’t have enough fuel now, can’t you just get more when you get back and take me then?”
Monkian cast her a glower of impatience for her ignorance. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
He rose to his feet and punched the back of one of the other chairs in a burst of temper. “For one, this isn’t my personal ship. Ships like this that can go as far as Plundarr to Third Earth aren’t cheap or easy to make and belong to more than one Mutant. It belongs to my nephew and our clan. I can use it but not just whenever I want to without explaining and justifying it. And explaining why a human stowaway is worth the fuel cost to get back to Third Earth isn’t going to be easy. Maybe if your herb medicine works I can convince him, hoo, but more likely he’ll just want to keep you there on the estate for your other tricks and the novelty of it.”
Zalea’s lips turned in confusion, and before she could ask, Monkian said bluntly, “Humans are a slave race to Mutants, in case you didn’t, hoo, notice. If I didn’t already know you, I’d be planning to sell you at the auction block as soon as we got there.”
“After I helped you, you’d enslave me?” Zalea yelled angrily at him. “You have nerve, Mutant! I thought we were friends—”
That time Monkian slammed both of his fists into the back of the chair, both denting the metal and bruising his knuckles in his anger. “As much as a Mutant could be ‘friends’ with a human, but Plundarr isn’t Third Earth! You hardly ever left your woods and you don’t know anything about my world. It’ll be hard enough to keep you from getting yourself killed, and believe me, hoo, if you weren’t a ‘friend’ I wouldn’t bother!” He grabbed her roughly and stared into her eyes. She squealed and tried to kick him, but he held her fast despite her struggles. “You’d better can that stubbornness and attitude if you want to survive when we get there. I’ll call you my slave for now, and as long as you don’t act up I can keep you safe maybe long enough to figure out a way to send you back. But if you act like a bad slave and I don’t discipline you, not only will the other Mutants make it harder on me for acting soft to a human, but they’ll do what they realize I won’t.”
Zalea continued to struggle. “Don’t threaten me, Monkian!”
Fed up, he elbowed her sharply in the gut to knock the wind out of her, and circled one burly arm around her waist and another around her neck, choking her and putting her in a position that made any aggressive move on her part an unwise risk if she did not want her neck broken. “Is this what you want? To be beaten like trash? To be raped, bound up, tortured, or tossed into a cell or a pit to fight animals for sport? Because that’s what a Mutant will do to a human slave that fights them. There are no free humans on Plundarr. One that says she is will be captured and sold into slavery by the first Mutant that gets to her, that is if he doesn’t keep her for himself.” He then let go and thrust her away roughly, glowering at her as she stumbled back against the wall. “And I’m telling you that as your ‘friend’.”
Despite her wounded pride, Zalea heard the ring of truth in Monkian’s words and stared back of him. “What about hiding? Can’t I do that?”
“Someone will find you. You can’t hide forever, especially if you want to eat and sleep.” It was then that he realized he had forgotten to eat, which was what he had gone into the back of the ship for when he had found Zalea. “Play along and I’ll do what I can to keep you safe… and try to get you home before too long.” He sighed, disgusted at himself for being so soft. Slaves were a lot easier to handle when one did not already know and like them first.
Queen Selene had a bright smile on her face when Luna joined her for tea that afternoon. “What has you so happy today?” Luna asked as she and Amok took their places.
She patted her belly, swollen with the child and heir to the Plundarrian Moons that she carried. The unborn baby was the second attempt by the royal couple to conceive. The first had been lost in miscarriage in the first few months and had left her ill for a time afterward. Had the political situation not been as tenuous as it was, the physicians would have advised that they not try again, but she was determined to ensure the stability of the throne of the Moons and had insisted. That pregnancy had gone better, and she was due nearly any day. “Little Silvian’s been kicking up a storm today,” she told Luna. “Altheus thinks I should deliver him in a few days. He told me that this morning.”
Due to all of the testing that had been done, they already knew that the child she carried was male and had already named him after her fallen brother. Luna eyed her with concern. “Did he schedule a surgery yet?”
Selene nodded. Another thing that was general knowledge amongst the court was that the queen did not intend to risk complications from a natural delivery. While lunar-psi crosses had less incompatibility issues than hybrid births like Chilla’s child Erissa, the size of the hybrid fetus several weeks pre-term was already the size of a mature lunar fetus. It was almost a given that trying to bear the child without surgical intervention would kill them both, and they had not wanted the risk of premature delivery complications for the infant by trying to have him earlier. “Two more days, unless the labor pains start. But the only pain I’m in is what the boy’s doing to my insides.” She sighed. “Can your liver bruise, do you think? Or your lungs?”
“At least you know he’s a fighter like your brother was,” Luna pointed out. The former leader of the Lunatacs of Plundarr had taken to Selene rather like a mother hen, which was odd considering Luna herself had never had children and if one had asked her, would have said she never wanted any. Some might have argued that Luna’s children had been the Skytomb group that she had led much like a matriarch of a rather dysfunctional family, but she would have staunchly denied that. Certainly if she had ever had children, they would not have been so unruly, misbehaved, and arrogant as the likes of Alluro, Chilla, TugMug, and RedEye. Amok was the only one she might have wanted to claim at all, and to her he was more of a combination of pet and brother rather than child.
“Oh yes, I’m sure of that. But one couldn’t expect less from a child who’ll one day rule the Moons.” Selene sipped at her tea and winced. “Oooh. Right in the… well, I don’t know what organ it was, but I’m sure it’s important.”
Luna dropped a sugar cube into her tea while Amok helped himself to several plain sugar cubes to munch on. “It’s a shame you can’t get his father to be half that energetic. He seems to have inherited Alluro’s lazy side.”
With a chortle Selene replied, “Cut him a little slack, Aunt Luna. He’s been busy the last few days. Frostor dragged him to Noktoraek and back yesterday for some state affairs. Normally I would’ve gone, but obviously I’m in no shape to travel.” She looked at her midsection again. “I think I’d take up two seats. Well, maybe just one if I sat in a graviton sized seat.”
“Speaking of gravitons, what’s this I hear about TugMug of all Lunatacs getting married?”
“Alluro and Chilla didn’t tell you about that?”
“Not specifically. I overheard it, but I didn’t get the whole story.” Actually Luna had been on her way down the hall when she heard Alluro and Chilla snickering about something, and she had paused to listen rather than simply ask to save herself the trouble of interacting with them, just in case part of it was gossip that they might not repeat to her.
“Oh. Well there’s not much to it. Apparently TugMug has been seeing this woman, another graviton that lives over on Tukabir, and they really clicked. Given what a character he is, I can only imagine what she must be like.” She smirked. “Anyhow, they decided to wed and rather than bother with invitations and a formal affair like we tend to do over here on Dasanalith, they just up and did it out of the blue. Their reception was a spontaneous party at one of their local places with the friends that happened to be there at the time. I hear the food was good, though, but when isn’t it over there?” Her smirk broadened to a grin. “No wonder I’ve put on so much weight with this baby. Would you believe I had this insatiable craving for authentic First Moon twice-baked pork pastries? I had some ordered from this excellent graviton baker in town and I ate almost the whole bag. Psiarik had one and a half and got ill, but I polished off the rest in less than half an hour.” She shook her head.
Luna looked from Selene’s face to her belly and back to her face. “Small wonder you aren’t the size of a brute eating like that.”
Selene’s mouth turned slightly at the remark, although it was quickly replaced with a wince when she felt yet another kick and a searing stab of pain that took her breath away. Luna eyed her with concern, but before she could say anything it happened again, and that time Selene cried out. “Something’s wrong,” she gasped.
“Wrong? How? Maybe he just rammed his heel into your spleen that time. He is half psi, after all, and contrary to what they like to believe they’re not nearly as graceful as they think.”
Selene doubled over, or at least made the motion like she was doing so, since her size did not quite allow for it. “Get Altheus, Aunt Luna. This isn’t… it’s not right.” She looked at Luna with urgency. “Now.”
Amok was on his feet and scrambling to the door before Luna could do more than squawk for him to get her. They overheard Amok shouting loudly in one-word sentences consisting of “healer”, “doctor”, and “now” to the guards. In a few moments several of Selene’s attendants rushed in, followed shortly thereafter by Altheus and Psiarik. The psi healer did not need to speak with Selene to realize the sort of pain she was in, and as soon as he touched her he could sense exactly what was happening.
“We need to get her into surgery, and quickly.” No more time was wasted, and before all the steam could dissipate from the teacups, the room was emptied while the word was spread that the Moons’ new heir was about to be born.
Ratar-O stood alone in the decorated chamber that held the pride of Mutant-kind, the mighty Sword of Plundarr, eyeing the sleeping weapon with much on his mind. These days he no longer carried it on his day to day business. He had returned to wearing his Rat’s Eyes in his belt as they had other powers, and a part of him had come to feel that it was unwise to use the ancient sword for anything that did not specifically call for its use. That was a relatively recent change in the Mutant Warrior King’s behavior, one that had come about after he had received a disconcerting visit from one of the avian clan mystics, an elder called Falconius.
“I see you carry the mighty Sword of Plundarr,” the speckled bird had remarked after greeting him while he sat upon his throne, before even fully straightening from his bow. “All of Plundarr knows, and beyond. I do not question the judgment of our Mutant Warrior King, but I am concerned… do you not fear at all how others covet the Sword of Plundarr’s power?”
“What do I have to fear?” Ratar-O sneered back at the old bird. His words would be considered offensive by many Mutants, but Ratar-O had a rightly earned reputation for patience in the more recent years of his rule, and he chalked the avian’s impertinent words up to his age and social ignorance rather than intentional rudeness. “Am I not the Mutant Warrior King? Does the Sword not belong to me by birth right and respond to my blood above all others? Only a fool would even consider trying to steal it from me.”
“Indeed,” Falconius agreed with a slow nod, his eyes peering intently at him from across his beak. “But in your wisdom, King Ratar-O, surely you realize that fools are a constant of the universe and outnumber the wise? Even a people as advanced as we Mutants can’t claim that we’re free of that evolutionary curse.”
The rat let out a hearty belly laugh. “True enough, Falconius. I can’t argue that. Fools may be about three out of five here on Plundarr, which is better than the nine of ten on other worlds, or ninety-nine of one hundred on even more primitive ones, but we certainly can’t deny we have our share of them.” He looked down at the bird with his whiskers twitching curiously. “So is that why you’ve come here? Have you had some vision about the Sword of Plundarr?”
Falconius straightened and adjusted his feathery beaded headdress as he regarded his king. The coppery ceremonial makeup that lined his raptor-like eyes glittered in the golden light of the throne room, and commanded the attention of Ratar-O without challenging his authority. “The sword specifically? No. But there are unsettling things astir, Sire.”
“What sort of things?”
“The stars align in a pattern to open a gateway to evil,” Falconius said, and Ratar-O’s lips curled into a silent groan. Prophecies and mystic mumbo-jumbo were things that he took with boulder-sized grains of salt. He trusted what he could verify, and while he was not foolish enough to deny that there was truth in ancient lore, he was also not superstitious enough to buy into it blindly and let it govern his rational judgment. Falconius could tell instantly that Ratar-O was not nearly as concerned as he felt he should be, and prepared to argue his point further. “It is not coming into convergence yet, but it will in a year’s time. Plundarr is not at its focus, but it is tied to it.”
Ratar-O eyed the avian evenly. “Tied to it, but not at its focus? What is that supposed to mean? Are we this evil force’s stepping stone or something? What, do we stop and give it Thundrillium for its ship while it goes on to bother someone else?”
Chortling, Falconius replied, “Perhaps not so literally, but it’s not a bad analogy.” He cleared his throat with a cawing noise. “The stars give only vague warnings, but when we meditate on it at the temple we all see the same things—visions of the Sword of Plundarr, and its sister swords… significantly, coming into its strongest peak right around the anniversary of their convergence five years prior.”
That time Ratar-O could not contain his groan and keep it
quiet. “I’ve heard some kind of nonsense
like this almost every year since the blasted
“The swords are all tied to it, Mighty Ratar-O. I can say that without doubt. I would never expect a wise rat like yourself to take the words of a mystic at face value, but as the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed. Keep the Sword of Plundarr close and guarded. It is a target. In order to keep it at its peak power, it must be revered as the holy object it is, secluded and sanctified, not sullied by ignorant and foolish eyes and wills.”
The frown on Ratar-O’s face etched deeper for a moment, but he did not argue with Falconius further. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you for your time, Falconius,” he said with a note of finality that made it clear he no longer wished to be disturbed.
“You’re most welcome, Mighty Ratar-O,” the avian replied, and bowed to his liege again before leaving him to his solitude on the throne.
Though he never gave an official explanation to anyone as to why, that was the last day that Ratar-O, Mutant Warrior King, carried the Sword of Plundarr outside of ceremony or battle.
Back on the Third Moon of Plundarr, a large crowd of prominent citizens, royal court members, advisors, and military staff were all gathered in the MoonTower’s decorated courtyard for the festive ceremony naming Selene and Psiarik’s child, Prince Silvian II, the heir to the throne. The boy had reached one year of age, marking the time that traditionally on the Moons indicated that a child was strong enough to survive and would continue to thrive. Infant mortality plagued all races of all species across the universe, and even advanced ones such as Lunatacs were no exception. In times past, reaching one’s first birthday was an indication that he or she had the strength to make it through one of the most vulnerable times in life, and therefore could be reasonably expected to survive onward. There was another confirmation ceremony that would take place around the age of reaching adulthood, strengthening the claim on the throne, but even the designation ceremony performed at one year was enough to solidify the child’s place in the royal succession in the eyes of most Lunatacs.
Despite the alarm that had surrounded young Silvian’s birth, the surgery to deliver him had gone smoothly enough, and the complications of pain that Selene had felt were due to an unnatural increase in pressure on one of her vital organs given the baby’s size. Because the pains had alerted her early, she suffered no ill effects once the baby was delivered and the internal bruising was treated. Silvian II himself was a healthy child and grew quickly. He looked more lunar than psi, aside from having his father’s gray hair and blue markings around the eyes. His skin tone and facial features were very similar to that of his mother, and given measurements taken at birth he was not expected to be exceptionally tall, unless one went by purely lunar race standards. Certainly he would be a very short man on the psi charts.
The ceremony was performed by a prominent lunar priest, the same that had married Selene and Psiarik years ago, and who had done the royal confirmation ceremonies on Selene and her late brother when they came of age after the disasters. He was one of the few surviving from the same order of clerics that had performed the confirmation rites on all of the royalty, including her and Silvian when they had turned one year old.
After the ceremony was over, a festive celebration was held in the courtyard and the adjoining ballroom, and the gathering became slightly less formal. Many important figures were there, both personal and professional, and even RedEye had returned from his new home on Noktoraek to attend. TugMug and his wife Gravitina had not, but they did send a fine gift basket that required one brute or three strong lunars to carry it into the boy’s nursery suite. The card had indicated well wishes and said that it contained the best of what Tukabir had to offer, and Selene had commented—off the record of course—that it was more memorable than the formal gift sent by the First Moon’s governor. TugMug’s basket had a child’s sippy stein with an assortment of homemade First Moon juices, brews, and treats that were popular among toddlers of Tukabir. Also in the basket were numerous toys that would delight any little child, all of high quality and handmade by first-rate graviton craftsmen. Selene’s favorite was the Slug-Bug, an adorable stuffed animal version of a squat creature native to Tukabir. It squeaked and grumbled depending on how it was handled, and Silvian took a liking to it immediately—even if it was to bop it with a blunt painted toy version of the MoonSaber that he had to make Slug-Bug repeat itself.
Selene was enjoying a moment or two of quiet between socializing with the well-wishers when a graviton she did not recognize came up to her. The stout man had longish hair that was colored green, blue, and purple in an odd mix reminiscent of swirled paint, styled in a high wave held fast by gel so that it did not hang down. He wore a loose-fitting robe decorated with religious symbols specific to the Tukabir culture, and his right cheek was painted with a black jagged line symbol that had an asterisk-like point two thirds of the way down. Hanging around his neck on a silvery chain was larger and more elaborate rendition of the symbol, carved in the same crystal that Alluro used in his psyche club orbs. “Queen Selene,” he greeted as he approached, bowing as much as his rotund form would allow. “I’m Hud-Bah of Tukabir, high priest and scientist of the First Moon’s northern regions. It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness, and may I extend congratulations on the birth and first year of such a robust young prince. I’m sure as the stars that he’ll grow to be a fine ruler and strong young man.”
Smiling back at him, Selene replied with a reciprocal bow, “Thank you, Priest Hud-Bah. It’s an honor and a privilege to have you and your order represented here today. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay on the Third Moon?”
“Oh yes! I got recommendations on the best places to see and stay from your old friend TugMug. It’s been a few years since I’ve been able to make it over here, but I knew I could count on him to point me to a good time!” Small wrinkles formed around the side of his eyes and plump cheeks as he laughed. “And I always knew you to be a woman of taste, serving Eclipse Stout. Excellent choice!”
“Well, Riala wouldn’t stand for me stocking anything else,” she said wryly, referring to the graviton nanny that tended to both Silvian and Erissa.
“Then clearly you’re on the right track with raising the next generation, your majesty.” Hud-Bah winked at her, and then looked around briefly as if to ensure their conversation would remain private before adopting a more serious tone. “If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you about something important, for your ears only.”
A quizzical look crossed Selene’s features. “For my ears only?”
“Er, well yours and whoever you see fit to fill in on it at your discretion, of course. Hud-Bah would never question the judgment of our illustrious queen.”
“Relax,” Selene said pleasantly. “I don’t offend that easily. Speak your mind.”
Hud-Bah nodded with relief. Many lunars were far prissier about such things than their queen. “All right. I’m not aware of anyone else that’s approached you about this matter, so I apologize if the psi seers or someone else has beaten me to the punch. Our order keeps our speculation largely to ourselves. In fact, you’re the first that isn’t a graviton priest that this has been discussed with at all, and fittingly so.”
“What are you talking about?” Selene suddenly felt as though she was not going to like what he had to say.
“This is an auspicious occasion, and these are much better
times than the Moons have known in many years, and certainly since the Thundera
explosion disasters. All over the Moons,
and I can vouch personally for the First, our people have made incredible
progress rebuilding and re-forging what we’ve lost. Since the
Selene blinked, taken aback by the priest’s words. “What? Why would you think that?”
Hud-Bah smiled kindly at her, although it was not one of reassurance, but concern. “We gravitons are people that value our science and technology, as are all Lunatacs of course, but we’re especially well-versed in the physical laws of the universe. It’s that knowledge that allows us to thrive as we do and manipulate the gravitational forces with such skill. Gravitational forces, however, are all over the universe and work in many ways. Even distant stars can affect them. That’s why we have so many prominent astronomers and astrologers amongst our scientists and priests. And as such, many of them have been tracking a troubling alignment coming into formation that’ll take its effect in just about a year’s time.”
A bit of color drained from Selene’s cheeks. She was not as superstitious as some, but after enduring the Battle of the Swords she placed far more stock in ancient prophecy and lore than she once had, and the note of conviction in Hud-Bah’s tone made it clear that he believed in what he was saying. “What kind of alignment?” she asked.
“A portal, or rather, a pathway for negative forces to gain a foothold. It’s impossible to say what sort of forces these might be, but the alignment makes the environment a ripe breeding ground for all sorts of negativity. Uncontrolled violence, anger, greed, jealousy, lust—during this time it’ll be all the easier to succumb to the desire to do these things. Now of course, there is always free will, but it’s better to be warned so that will can be directed. The Queen of the Moons, with the knowledge that such a time is coming to pass, will be able to mitigate it. Policies and programs to distract and encourage the more positive behaviors amongst the people could stem the kind of chaos that might otherwise arise. Heighten security, and be on guard from assassins at all times. That’s prudent anytime, of course, but especially now.” The graviton put his hands on her arms and stared hard into her eyes. “I have no proof or evidence to show you, but many of us feel that this is particularly significant for the royal household, given the timeframe when the alignment reaches its apex and will remain the strongest.”
Selene was unable to look away from the graviton’s worried eyes. “When?” Her voice was just barely above a whisper.
“The apex is two days after the fifth anniversary of the Battle of the Swords, but it’s strongest in the twenty six days before and after that. You must be very vigilant then.”
“The fifth anniversary of the
“You should use that to your advantage,” advised Hud-Bah. “Reinforcing the alliance with the Mutants and Thunderians can only help when others act in ways to destroy all you’ve restored. We may not know who or why yet, but it’s early, and perhaps with this in mind you can be aware of suspicious behavior before it can harm you. We cannot shake the feeling that it’s going to affect the Moons strongly. One of our astrologers noted something particularly disturbing in his calculations. The Master of Lightning collides with the natal position of Thundera relative to the capitol during the apex period. That could mean many things, but not a one of them is anything good. Your majesty, you must be careful.”
The queen looked around anxiously, but saw to her relief that no one else seemed to be looking to interrupt their conversation or listening in. She had no idea what to make of what Hud-Bah told her yet, and until she sorted through it, she certainly did not want the rumor mill churning. Lunatac nature was such that many would wind up behaving in a way to fulfill the destiny rather than avoid it, either intentionally or not. “I don’t really understand what you’re talking about. Who is the Master of Lightning? And what is the natal position of Thundera? Do you mean when it was re-formed, as in born?”
“The Master of Lightning is not a who, but a what. It’s a comet, an aggressive little asteroid in our system with a very eccentric cycle, and when its path traverses points sensitive in the chart—the stars’ positions when one comes into being, birth for living beings, or the signing of documents or opening ceremonies in the case of unions, treaties, or structures like bases and bridges—something gets the cosmos kicked out of it.” He shook his head. “Oh, I think I need another steinful of Eclipse after this,” he groaned before continuing. “Basically, your majesty, this comet’s trajectory will collide with the position of New Thundera in one of the capitol’s charts, and loosely to both the military base and the MoonTower as well. They were established a few months after the formal recognition of the city as the capitol, but will be affected nonetheless. We can’t say how, whether it’s an invasion, a riot, or just some nutcase assassin on the loose gunning for one of the royal family or court,” he shrugged, “but we can say that they will be affected.”
Selene closed her eyes. “That’s terrible, if it turns out to be true.”
“That’s why I’m telling you, Queen Selene, so that you can do what you can as the ruler of the Moons to keep measures in place to sidestep it. You can’t avoid it—when the Master of Lightning acts up, there’s not much anyone can do to stop it—but timely caution could mean the difference between annoying and catastrophic, whatever it is.”
“I see.” She forced a
pleasant look and shook his hand. “Thank
you for your warning, Hud-Bah. I’ll be
sure and discuss it with Psiarik and especially Frostor. We’ll see to it that security measures are
tightened, and that we go out of our way to make the
The priest nodded back to her. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on your majesty to listen to sensible graviton advice.” He grinned. “Give my regards to his majesty and the Governor General, and of course the young prince.”
“I will.”
“I’ll leave you to the more pleasant things again, then. It’d be a shame to not enjoy this fine party you’ve thrown while it lasts! Good health and vitality to you, Queen Selene!” Hud-Bah said, and bowed to her one final time before running off to the bar. His words continued to weigh on Selene’s mind for several moments, but only until another official came over to speak with her. Their conversation was far more light and pleasant, however, and before long she put the warning from Hud-Bah out of her mind for the time being. The notion to discuss it with her husband, general, and those of the court was added to her to-do list, and she went on to enjoy the rest of the festivities celebrating her son.
Pumari was in WilyKit’s room, helping her to pack her things for a trip to Third Earth for guardianship. “I wish I could go along with you sometime,” the girl said with a wistful note in her voice. Bengali and Pumyra’s daughter was now nearing her eleventh birthday, but still had her childlike enthusiasm for adventure. “I bet it’d be a lot more fun to go with you than it is when I get stuck going with my mom or dad.”
“Thanks, but are you sure you’re not just saying that because you think I’d let you have more fun than they would?” WilyKit replied with a grin, stuffing a pair of slippers into an already overfull satchel. It was becoming a challenge, but she did not want to hunt down another bag and repack things just to make one lousy pair of slippers fit.
“I know you would,” Pumari said confidently. “You never make me go to bed early, or tell me I can’t have a second piece of dessert, or worry every time I get on a spaceboard like my mom seems to.”
WilyKit shoved down on the stubborn slipper with her heel while pulling at the zipper hard with one hand, holding the other end of it fast with the other. “Aw, well it’s not fair if I don’t let you do the same things I’d do myself,” she admitted, letting out a breath of relief when she proved victorious over her baggage. “But it’s Pumyra’s job to worry about you. I think all mothers do with their cubs. Cheetara and Lion-O are the same with Chet.”
“You think you’d be like that if you had a cub?” Pumari eyed her curiously. “I don’t think you would, ‘cause you’re too much fun.”
At that WilyKit laughed. “A cub! By Jaga, Pumari, I don’t even have a boyfriend, much less a fiancé I’d marry and have cubs with.”
“What about Altran?” Pumari asked, referring to a tiger that WilyKit had been out with a few times in the recent past.
WilyKit shook her head. “Oh, not him, that’d never work out. He’s nice and all, but he’s too serious. He’s so wrapped up in his work that it’s all he talks about most of the time. I mean, it’s not like the city utility projects he does design on aren’t important, but my eyes just glaze over, and he doesn’t seem to get how he goes on and on about it.” She made a face. “And a girl can only stand playing second fiddle to toilet plumbing for so long.”
Pumari giggled at the older cat’s expression. “What do you mean?”
“Three times he canceled on meeting me to take voluntary overtime on the sewer project. There’s dedication, and then there’s a problem with priorities. Especially since it’s not like he couldn’t have found someone to cover at least two of those times.” She shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him and we’re still friends, but it’d never work.” She ran a comb through the styled tip of her mane once, and then stuffed it into a pouch on her bag. “Besides, I think I’d like someone a little more adventurous. Someone who might like things like going along with me to Third Earth on guardian duty for a few weeks, and could take anything from it being a low-key vacation where we sleep in and hang out with the warrior maidens for dinner in a treetop, and the next day trek up Hook Mountain to say hi to the snowman, to being able to handle an unexpected raid from Berzerkers on the Berbils or something like that.”
“I’d like to marry someone like that too,” the girl agreed. “And he’d have to be really cute. You can find someone cuter than Altran anyway. Like maybe Leopardran?” she hinted, naming a handsome young leopard athlete that sometimes trained in the Cat’s Lair arena. In recent years, the Thundercats had opened their facilities to a semi-elite membership that Thunderian citizens could purchase once the individual passed the physical and rudimentary skill requirements for facility use, as well as a background check that cleared them as trustworthy enough to be given limited access to official Thundercat premises. Leopardran was a witty and flirtatious cat who easily caught the attention of the ladies, especially since he was an agile gymnast as well as skilled with hand blades.
Laughing, WilyKit tousled Pumari’s mane. “I’m sure Leopardran has his pick of whoever he wants, but I think I’ll leave him for the rest of the women of Thundera to fight over. Besides,” she said slyly, “I think it’s funny when he runs into Leonora and flirts with her. It sends Kat’s blood pressure through the roof, even though everyone knows he’s only half serious and talks that way to all the girls.”
Pumari flopped on the bed. “Do you think he’ll wind up marrying her?”
“He might. They’ve been seeing each other a long time now. I like her. I’ve wondered if he’d suggest trying to get her a position as a Thundercat, but I don’t think she’d go for it. Doesn’t seem to be her thing.”
“And Lion-O hasn’t said for sure if they’re going to make more Thundercats yet,” Pumari said, her tone suddenly turning wistful. “Sometimes I don’t think they’ll ever let me be a Thundercat, even though both my parents are.”
WilyKit looked down at her with an odd look. “Why do you say that?”
Pumari propped her chin up on her elbows and looked back at the older cat with wide brown eyes. “Because they never said they would yet, and I’m already eleven. You and WilyKat were younger than that when you were trained. Nobody even talks about training me, and when I ask if I could learn to use a weapon, they say ok, but then say just about everything I want to try is too dangerous. I’m ok with the club and staff, but they won’t let me try a real one or go in the arena much.”
“That’s just policy,” WilyKit said in an attempt to be reassuring. “I think they don’t want you to spar with one of the adults at a higher skill level that might hurt you by accident, and want you to fight someone in your own height and weight class until you’re ready.”
“All the kid classes are in the city and they’re not the same. I’ve taken those. I could learn better if I could try like a real Thundercat.” Her pout deepened. “I don’t think they want me to be one. Otherwise why wouldn’t they let me like Jaga did you and WilyKat, and Lion-O? Lion-O was even younger than you two before his suspension capsule changed him after the Exodus.”
Hoisting a second full bag onto the bed beside Pumari, WilyKit replied, “Well, Lion-O was Lord Claudus’ only cub and the heir. He had to be trained, especially since he was the one who’d have to replace Claudus or Jaga if one or both of them fell. The Mutant attacks were really bad back then. They couldn’t take chances, not when Jaga also had no heirs that could become a Thundercat Lord. If Lion-O had died like Jaga and his father, the Thundercats would’ve had no clear Lord to take over the Sword of Omens. Tygra was second-in-command and head of the council, but usually the council head and the Thundercat Lord aren’t the same cat so there’s a check and balance.”
“How come you and WilyKat were trained young then?”
WilyKit paused for a thoughtful moment. “We just… were. The Thundercats took care of us after our parents died, and made us Thundercats too. I guess they thought it was a good idea, or felt it was their duty to. They always called us ‘gifted’ so that probably had something to do with it.” She caught the funny look that formed on Pumari’s face and then quickly added, “Not that I’m saying you aren’t gifted, Pumari—not at all. But times were different then. There were wars going on and Thundercats were needed to fight a lot more than today. Mostly we’re government officials with titles.” She sighed. “Kind of boring in comparison, although I don’t really miss the fighting. The adventures were cool, though. Paperwork and politics and speeches really aren’t.”
“Neither is getting to do nothing more important than sometimes getting watch duty in the control room as far as being like a Thundercat goes,” Pumari pouted.
“I thought Tygra, Snoelle, and Lynx-O were also teaching you to research in the Book of Omens?”
“Yeah, but that’s only a little bit cooler than school lessons.” The disappointment in her voice was evident. “I like the stories, but there’s so many rules and it gets confusing. And I only got to go in with the key once, with Tygra. That was fun, but they said it’s not something we can do a lot.”
“Yeah, I know.” WilyKit nodded sympathetically. “Hey, it’s too late to ask now, but maybe on my next turn of Third Earth duty, I’ll ask Pumyra and Bengali if they’d mind letting you tag along with me. And for this time, I’ll try and swing you a visit for a week if they can spare the fuel?”
Pumari’s eyes brightened. “Oh, that’d be fun! I’d like that!”
WilyKit’s eyes sparkled along with her young friend’s, mirroring her enthusiasm. “Me too.”
Back to Fanfic Archive