Revival
(Revised Edition, January 2009)
by Cheezey
Part Two: Illusions
Chapter One
Two days had passed since Panthro and the others had saved Snoelle from her icy prison and taken her back to Cat’s Lair. WilyKat, knowing only a brief summary of what had transpired while he had been on Third Earth duty, breathed a sigh of relief as the Feliner entered New Thundera’s airspace. “It’s about time I got here.” He had been anxious to get home and meet the mysterious new Thundercat, as well as see his sister and the other Thundercats after his six-week stay guarding Third Earth’s Cat’s Lair.
Generally WilyKat did not mind the stints on Third Earth. They made for a nice change of pace, and even
though he was no longer a kitten, he held fond memories of the place and the
adventures he had there in his youth. He
and WilyKit had made many friends amongst the Third Earthers, and he enjoyed the
opportunity to visit with them. Besides,
he had not been without Thundercat company.
The first three weeks he had been there, Pumyra and her daughter Pumari
had been in the middle of a stay at the
Still, WilyKat was glad to be back given all the excitement he had missed. The ride back had been long, full of meteor showers and other interstellar travel annoyances, and he was looking forward to the comforts of home. Most of all, he looked forward to catching up with WilyKit. Even though they were both grown, the twins remained close and felt a sense of loss when separated for long periods.
As the ground beneath him started to come into view, an alarm beeped on the Feliner’s console. “What’s going on?” The readings indicated that an energy field was surrounding the craft, and WilyKat wondered why the systems had not warned him that he was flying into it. “All that cosmic debris must’ve knocked the sensors out of whack,” he grumbled. “Great. Guess I have a job for Panthro when I land.” He focused on steering out of the energy field when a loud and familiar cry out of nowhere startled him. He looked up, and he could have sworn that he saw his sister’s image in the glass of the Feliner’s hatch, looking painfully burned and scarred. She let out a cry of, “Help!” and then vanished.
“WilyKit?” WilyKat’s gut instinct urged him to help, but how could what just saw have been anything but imagination? He blinked and looked again at the glass, and sure enough, there was nothing there but the sky and the sparks of the energy field that were making his controlsact up. He shook his head. “I’ve been flying way too long.”
The sound of WilyKit’s panicked voice echoed shrilly through the Feliner’s cockpit again. “I’m down here! Help me!”
That time he could not deny that what he heard was
real, and it was too vivid to be only imagination.
He glanced at the ground below and saw no sign of other
Thundercat crafts. “Okay,” he said aloud, mostly to reassure
himself, “I’ll just land and check it out to be sure.” As he touched down, the frown on his face deepened. Though he and WilyKit were close, their
connection had never been overtly psychic before, and he had an unsettling
thought that she must be in grave danger if her spirit had cried out like
that. She looked awfully burned when
you saw her…
The bleak surroundings were familiar to WilyKat as he disembarked, and a moment later he realized why as he searched the landscape for any sign of his sister. The ruins of Mumm-Ra’s pyramid loomed to the west. No wonder this place gives me the creeps, he thought, pushing aside unpleasant memories of the Thundercats’ old enemy. Mumm-Ra was defeated years ago, so he couldn’t have harmed her… right?
He turned away from the pyramid and began to walk, looking for any trace of WilyKit’s presence. He was mid-step when he heard a shriek just like the one he had heard while flying the Feliner, coming from the direction of the pyramid.
Why would she go in there?
“Maybe I ought to call the Lair first and find out what they last heard from her, and at least let them know where I am.” He turned back toward the Feliner, but he had only gone three paces when he heard the scream again, blood-curdlingly loud and unmistakably WilyKit.
He sprang into action. “By the Eye, there’s no time for that! Hang on, Kit, I’m coming!”
WilyKat was panting from exertion when he reached Mumm-Ra’s tomb ruins. He was able to find his way into and navigate the “abandoned” structure with no trouble, and once he was far enough inside that there was no natural light, he cracked a luminous pellet against the wall to create a small globe of light that would work as a makeshift flashlight for the time being. “WilyKit!” he called ahead into the darkness. “I heard you screaming. Are you all right? Answer me!”
Silence was his only response.
“WilyKit!” he called again, that time more loudly. “Are you here? Are you hurt? Where are you?” He continued to shout out to her, but received no response other than the ominous whisper of the wind in the ancient chambers. This is very strange. If she’s in so much trouble that she can’t hear me, then how come I could hear her screams all the way outside? And why can’t I hear anything now?
He rounded a corner and found himself in the room he wanted to be in least: the heart of Mumm-Ra’s pyramid, the chamber that held his sarcophagus and cauldron. Immediately he noticed that it did not seem as abandoned as it should have been. There was an intangible sense of life, of energy, in the chamber, and there was no coat of dust, grime, or debris on the statues or floor that one would expect to find in a place that had been unoccupied for twelve years. A faint glow and the eerie sound of bubbling fluid confirmed his uneasy suspicions, and his stomach twisted into a knot at the realization.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “It can’t be.”
“Oh yes it can.”
The cold and sinister female voice that answered was not that of his sister, but belonged to the figure that bore her likeness in the awful charred and tortured vision he had seen in the Feliner.
“K—Kit?” he stammered as the thing that appeared to be WilyKit lifted her arms and knocked him to the floor with a painful blast of energy.
She laughed as she stood over him, a cruel and wicked laugh unlike any he had ever heard from his sister before. “Guess again, WilyKat,” she sneered back at him. “I’ll give a hint. I’m not your sister, but I had these same scars and burns on my body for a long time thanks to a shot you fired from one of your Thundercat vehicles almost fourteen years ago now.”
His mind reeled as he tried to reconcile the wretched mockery of his sister speaking to him in such a way to what it was that she said. Fourteen years, who or what did I shoot fourteen years ago that would’ve been burned like that? Someone connected to Mumm-Ra?
Wincing as he felt his skin burn from the energy field, WilyKat suddenly remembered a battle back on Third Earth that he and a few of the other Thundercats in the Thunderstrike had joined while answering a cat signal. Lion-O, Cheetara, Panthro, Pumyra, and Bengali had been trapped by Mumm-Ra and some woman—a dark bride or partner, they had later told him after it was said and done—and oddly the undead duo had also captured the Lunatacs at the time. His friends had told him that the partner had once been a Lunatac and held a grudge, and she and Mumm-Ra had been about to encase them all in lava when he and Lynx-O had arrived. From his pod in the Thunderstrike, WilyKat had fired a shot at the evil beings, and it knocked Mumm-Ra’s new partner into the heart of the volcano. But how could she have survived that? I saw her hit the lava…
Reading the sudden recognition on his face, Torlei leaned down and intensified the burn of her telekinetic force field to match the flare of the hatred she felt. “Thought I was dead and gone, did you? Well, you were wrong.” She shed the illusion of his sister and morphed back into her unnatural Lunatac form. “I’m here to give you and your friends a little payback, now that I’m alive and healed and brought back by my dear partner Mumm-Ra. We’re going to destroy you all, for good this time.”
WilyKat tried to move, but the force weighing down on him and the stabbing shocks of energy surrounding him were too overwhelming. It seemed like a net that drew tighter and sizzled against his skin more with each movement. “But Mumm-Ra’s dead. Lion-O defeated him.” He had hoped for a moment that it was just her that had come back, and not Mumm-Ra as well.
“Dead?” Torlei repeated. “Undead, yes. Defeated, perhaps. But ‘dead’ in as you mean it? Hardly. Since I don’t have a dictionary to give you, allow me to define the term ‘ever-living’ for you, Thundercat. It means ‘immortal.’ In simple terms that a kitty like you can understand, it means that he, and I for that matter, can’t be killed. There’s nothing you can do to be rid of us, no matter how many times you sic ancient book guardians on us or shoot us into volcanoes.” She held up a hand, sparking with a globe of malevolent telekinetic energy. “It’s a shame Mumm-Ra’s not here right now to see the pathetic look on your face. Perhaps I’ll have to preserve it so he can savor it before I do anything too permanent to you.”
She then thrust the energy globe at the trapped Thundercat, quadrupling the force upon him and making him scream in agony as shocks coursed through his body. He felt himself rise into the air and heavy shackles close around his wrists as Torlei called to her masters, “Ancient Spirits of Evil, hold this Thundercat helpless and weak!” A dizzying feeling of fatigue washed over WilyKat as the chains hoisted him limply into the air, and he realized grimly that his binds were at least in part Thundrainium. That and a prayer for help were his last conscious thoughts before he closed his eyes.
* * *
Back within the majestic walls of Cat’s Lair, Panthro made his way toward the guest suite that now served as Snoelle’s quarters. Lion-O had given them to her as soon as Pumyra gave her the okay to be released from the medical bay recovery room. Despite her long imprisonment in the magical ice, it appeared that there were no lasting ill effects on her health from it. The other Thundercats had all been told her story, and Lion-O had even prepared a statement to be released to the Thunderian people celebrating the return of the snow leopard Thundercat to their fold.
Naturally, she received a kind and warm reception from the people of New Thundera as well as the Thundercats themselves, and Snoelle was equally honored to be so readily accepted into their ranks. She thanked each of them for their kindness and hospitality, and swore to serve Lord Lion-O as she had his grandfather before her imprisonment. Still, being freed and back amongst the Thundercats was not without sadness for Snoelle. Learning about the destruction of the old Thundera, the sad fate of her clan, and the fact that she was very likely the last living snow leopard in existence was hard news to bear. New Thundera was different in many ways from the world she once knew, both with generational and cultural differences, and it would take time for her to adjust to it.
Panthro had been to see her a number of times, but he had kept his visits brief and respected her need for space. He hoped that he would soon have a chance to speak with her alone more intimately, but given the buzz that her arrival had stirred, he knew that might take some time. That was confirmed when he reached her chamber and found that Lion-O and Snarf were in there with her, having what sounded like an interesting conversation.
Snarf bounced up on his tail and waved to him. “Rowr, hey, Panthro, come on in. Snoelle was telling us about Lord Katan and some of the stuff they did when they were in power, snarf, snarf.”
“Hi. Sure, count me in.” He pulled an empty chair closer to where they were gathered.
“Nice to see you, Panthro,” Snoelle greeted him with a smile.
While Panthro smiled back at her in a way that both Lion-O and Snarf noticed to be quite charmed, Lion-O nodded in Panthro’s direction. “We were just asking Snoelle about the mission that led to her capture on the ice moon.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d been asked to get the MoonSaber from King Mallar. Lord Katan feared that he, like the Mutants, might view the ancient Incantation of Destruction as a means to conquer all of Thundera, Plundarr, and its Moons. Since Lunatacs are ruthless like their planetside brethren, and even though the thought of using such a terrible prophecy is something that we as Thundercats would never consider, it wasn’t unthinkable that either of those warlike peoples wouldn’t sacrifice some of their own in an effort to rule over the domains of all three swords.” She folded her hands and frowned as she thought about the past. “The notion of stealing the swords belonging to the Mutant and Lunatac people didn’t sit well with Lord Katan, as thievery is something Thundercats hold in contempt, but it was deemed the lesser evil in the face of what horrors could be unleashed if the Incantation of Destruction was used.”
Snoelle paused and met the gazes of her companions for a moment before continuing. “I was able to infiltrate King Mallar’s palace, an adventure in and of itself, and I managed to find and take the MoonSaber and get back out. Unfortunately, my luck didn’t hold out, and their security caught me as I was on my way off the grounds. I wouldn’t be surprised if the MoonSaber itself warned the lunar king that I’d taken it. I know the Eye of Thundera has such powers, after all.”
“The Eye of Thundera has a strong connection to me,” Lion-O confirmed.
“Anyhow, once they knew what happened, their sorceress Chillandra, Mistress of the Cold, chased me. As you might guess from her name, she was an icewalker, highly skilled amongst her people and a shaman skilled in elemental magic. She shot my ship down over the ice moon, likely hoping that I’d perish in the crash or in the cold of her home moon if I managed to survive. Being a snow leopard I fared better than other Thundercats would there, but I was ill prepared for a fight like that, especially after a crash landing, and she overpowered me. She imprisoned me in the magical ice, like I told you back when you freed me, and left me there to ponder my failure and fate.”
Lion-O listened to her account with interest. “Do you know what Chillandra did with the MoonSaber after that? We don’t know much about the Lunatacs’ sword. In fact,” he admitted with a rueful smile, “I didn’t know at all about it until recently.”
“I’d heard of it, but only a little,” Snarf added, while Panthro also gave a nod.
“We know more about the Mutants’ Sword of Plundarr, but that’s because it’s turned up in our enemies’ hands far more recently.”
“Chillandra didn’t say what she was going to do with the MoonSaber other than to boast that me and ‘my kind’ would never get our ‘dirty paws’ on it. She took it with her when she left me.” Snoelle fell silent, and then gave her friends a sad look. “And my failing to get the MoonSaber in turn led to the demise of my clan.”
“What? No! They died when Thundera was lost. That wasn’t your fault,” Panthro assured her.
“Snarf, snarf, why would you think that? It’s like we told you, Thundera’s explosion was caused by the Sword of Plundarr, not the MoonSaber.”
“The Mutants lost the Sword of Plundarr when Jaga defeated Ratilla,” said Panthro. “Jaga tried to destroy the Sword of Plundarr and keep it out of the Mutants’ hands to protect Thundera, but it didn’t work.”
“No,” Lion-O said in a regretful tone. “Instead it destroyed us by tearing Thundera apart.”
Snoelle closed her eyes sadly. “Such a tragedy. I can only imagine the burden Jaga must carry on his conscience in the astral.” She looked to Lion-O. “Still, when I didn’t come back from the ice moon, my people blamed the lion leadership of the Thundercats for my loss. If only I’d been successful…”
“Don’t think that way, Snoelle. You’ll drive yourself crazy. We’ve all got regrets.” Panthro put a hand on her shoulder.
Still looking at Lion-O, Snoelle said, “I failed my Lord and my mission. You’d be within your rights to strip me of my title, given that my failure led my people to cling to that grudge all the way to their deaths.”
Snarf bounced up on his tail. “Now, don’t be ridiculous!” he scolded. “You did your best, and no one can ask for more than that.”
“Thank you, but that doesn’t change—”
“No ‘buts.’ He’s right,” Lion-O asserted. “I understand that you feel a responsibility to your clan, Snoelle, but their decision to stay was their choice. Not yours, not my grandfather’s, not anyone’s but theirs.” He met her eyes earnestly. “I’ll never strip a Thundercat of the title that hasn’t betrayed the Code of Thundera as long as I live. You were loyal to my grandfather, and you’ve been nothing but honorable and honest with us. In you, I see a Thundercat that follows the Code, not one that’s broken it.”
Unshed tears of relief and emotion glistened in the snow leopard’s eyes. “Thank you, Lord Lion-O.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice softened and he relaxed, leaning back in his chair.
Snarf padded to the edge of Snoelle’s bed. “Now, let’s put that behind us and figure out what to do from here. Now that we know this MoonSaber exists, and what it could do if matched up with the Sword of Omens and the Sword of Plundarr, maybe we should find out where it is and, rowr, who has it?”
“I’d guess the Lunatacs have it,” Panthro said, only then removing his hand from Snoelle’s shoulder after giving it a gentle squeeze. “It was last seen with this Chillandra as far as we know, and none of the Lunatacs we’ve run into have used it against us, so maybe it’s back with the Lunatac royalty or Chillandra’s kin.”
Lion-O frowned thoughtfully. “If the Lunatac rulers have it, they aren’t using it in aggressive moves toward other worlds that I know of, and no Lunatac raiders have turned up on New Thundera with a weapon like that.”
“What about the prophecy and the Incantation of Destruction?” Snoelle asked Lion-O. “Do you think we should take precautions against such a possibility?”
“Perhaps. It couldn’t hurt to find out who has the MoonSaber and where it is. According to that prophecy, all three swords are needed, right? We have the Sword of Omens and know it’s well protected in our custody. The Sword of Plundarr hasn’t been seen in years...”
Snarf let out a brrr of worry. “And we know who last had that, and it wasn’t a Mutant.”
“Who did?” asked Snoelle.
“An undead mage named Mumm-Ra who came from Third Earth, followed us here, and made a general pain in the backside out of himself to us for years,” Panthro explained. “But we finally defeated him once and for all well over ten years ago.”
Lion-O strode over to the window and studied the New Thundera skyline in the distance. “But Mumm-Ra did have the Sword of Plundarr back then. If he exists in any form anywhere, it’s possible he still has it, or that his evil spirit masters do. It’s not impossible to think it could turn up in the hands of another one of their disciples, or that they might decide to give it back to the Mutants to instigate more fighting between our worlds. Evil thrives on conflict like that.”
“And Mumm-Ra’s turned up before alive and well when we thought he was gone,” said Panthro. “Still, it’s never been this long.”
“I’ll talk to the others and see what they think,” Lion-O decided, and turned from the window. “Thank you for your input, Snoelle.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Please, call me Lion-O,” he insisted. “We’re pretty informal among each other here.”
Snoelle smiled. “I’m sorry; it’s habit… Lion-O.”
He echoed the smile and gave a wave to her and Panthro in parting, and left. Snarf said a quick goodbye as well and followed Lion-O out, leaving Panthro and Snoelle alone together for the time being. A companionable silence settled over them for a few moments until Snoelle ended it with a curious statement.
“There’s another question I’ve got on my mind that I’m not quite sure how to ask.”
“Ask away,” Panthro said amiably.
“You, well…” Her eyes darted downward as her voice faltered while searching for the right words, until she came out with it. “When I met you in astral form, especially in your dreams, we were… intimate.” A knowing look lit up Panthro’s eyes, and Snoelle flushed beneath her fur. “I hope you’re not… I mean, you aren’t disappointed meeting me in the flesh, are you?”
“No way! Meeting you a disappointment? How on Thundera could I be disappointed? You’re a first-class lady.” He leaned closer to her and tipped her chin upward to lock gazes with him. “You took my breath away. You’re all I’ve been able to think about since you saved me and since we saved you. And you’re beautiful—even more in reality than in any dream.”
Snoelle curled her white fingertips over the panther’s strong forearm, deeply touched and flattered by his words. “And you feel that way even though you know that I was only on the ice moon to save you as I did because I failed my last Thundercat mission?”
“Hey, I thought we went over this already,” Panthro chided gently. “If the Lord of the Thundercats himself won’t hear any nonsense about you not being worthy because you had a tough mission and got ambushed by an ice witch who got the better of you, do you think I’m gonna put up with it?” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. You may not have noticed, but I’m a stubborn cat, and you’ll have an even harder time making me think you’re anything but a hero for going on a tough mission that any Thundercat would’ve found challenging. Nobody’s perfect.” He chortled. “At least you can say you wound up in the middle of nowhere on the ice moon because a Lunatac shot you down. I forgot to think about whether I cold-proofed my ship when I took it there on a test run and crashed. Now that’s embarrassing.”
A slight smile tugged at her lips in spite of herself. “Just a minor error in judgment.”
“One that had an astral ghost pulling my chops out of the freezer,” he retorted with a wry smile, noting that her touch now felt both real and warm as her fingertips brushed against his skin. “So maybe we should both cut ourselves some slack, huh?”
“Perhaps so.” They lapsed into silence as they looked into one another’s eyes until Snoelle spoke again. “I had to wait fifty years to find someone to rescue me, but I’m glad it was a fine cat like you. How did I get so lucky?”
“You saved my dangblasted butt,” Panthro replied, and they shared a warm chuckle.
“So,” Snoelle said with a sparkle in her eye, “how vividly do you remember that dream?”
Panthro felt a renewed rush of desire and drew her closer to him. “Almost every detail.”
Snoelle closed her eyes as their lips brushed, almost in a kiss, but not quite. “You’re a very passionate man.”
“You’re an exciting woman,” Panthro replied, and then completed the near kiss into a full-fledged one.
The pair lingered in the embrace for several moments, enjoying the silence and the comfort of being in one another’s arms. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a lover’s touch,” Snoelle murmured. “Even before Chillandra captured me, as a Thundercat I was too preoccupied, too busy, to ever fall…”
“It’s been a long time for me, too. Too long.” Panthro studied her face, committing it to memory in every detail.
“Maybe that’s why fate brought us together,” she mused. “We’re kindred spirits, aren’t we, cut from the same cloth deep down despite being from different times and different clans? Do you sense that too?” She smiled. “It’s not any cat that I’d seduce in a dream.”
“I’m not complaining,” Panthro said, before lapsing into a more serious tone. “But I do know what you mean. I don’t have a sixth sense, but I know what I can see and feel, and everything about this feels right.” His pounding heart echoed his feeling.
“Yes. In more ways than one, I feel like I’ve finally come home.” She sealed the words by initiating another kiss, and the couple remained in the embrace for some time.
* * *
Far off on a more bleak part of New Thundera, Mumm-Ra materialized on the dais beside his cauldron in the black pyramid. He was pleased with what he had learned spying on the Lunatacs in the MoonTower. Without paying particular attention to anything else in his abode or concerning himself with the presence of his partner, he summoned a vision of the Thundercats of Cat’s Lair in the cauldron to see if there was any information from there to be gleaned.
The conversation that Lion-O, Panthro, Snarf, and Snoelle had in the snow leopard’s quarters replayed for him. The appearance of a new Thundercat intrigued and annoyed him at the same time. The presence of more felines, especially Thundercats, was not a particularly pleasant notion, but the circumstances were ironic considering that the MoonSaber the snow leopard had tried to take so many years ago had also resurfaced back on the Moons. “So a lost Thundercat still lives, and she’s returned to Cat’s Lair. Perhaps this can be used to my advantage.”
“Mumm-Ra, darling, surely you have better things to do than spy on those miserable felines all day?” Torlei emerged from the shadows on the opposite end of the chamber across the pool with a devious smirk on her harsh features.
Mumm-Ra looked up from the scrying waters and regarded her. “The Thundercats have saved one of their number from the past, a snow leopard that was trapped in magical ice on Plundarr’s ice moon by a Lunatac sorceress.”
“A kitty reunion. How touching.”
“That’s not the important part,” Mumm-Ra continued, unimpressed by her cavalier attitude. “Her story is one of interest to us. Combined with what I learned observing the Lunatacs on the Third Moon, it provides the perfect means for us to rise and claim all of New Thundera, Plundarr, and its Moons now that the Ancient Spirits of Evil have restored us to power. I can finally see the Thundercats destroyed, and you will get your revenge on Luna, your brother, and rest of that wretched crew of Lunatacs from Third Earth.”
Torlei hissed contemptuously. “Oh yes, I ache for the chance to even the score with them after what they did to me.”
“Ah, yes, but at least you’ve recovered from that. They still don’t know that you survived that fall into the volcano and were merely lying in wait for the right moment all these years.” His eyes glowed a malevolent red. “The element of surprise will be a nice bonus.”
“A surprise to some of them, anyway,” she said with a dark laugh.
Immediately he became suspicious, and more than a little irritated at the thought that she had acted without him. “What?”
Her eyes lit up with twisted excitement. “I captured us a little pet, darling. The Thundercat they call ‘WilyKat.’ He was a boy when I last saw the Thundercats, but oh, time flies, and he’s grown now.” Her smug smile made it quite clear that she was pleased with her handiwork. “They don’t even know he’s missing yet. I waited for you to return to decide what exactly we should do with him.”
Mumm-Ra’s own eyes blazed as she answered him, but more from indignation at being denied the chance to strike at his enemies first, and in apprehension that her hastiness might have compromised his plans. “Is he contained?”
“Of course,” she assured him, ignoring the bluster in his tone. “He’s unconscious and bound in Thundrainium. He’s not going anywhere.” She gestured to a dark corner of the chamber where a torch blazed to life with unnatural fire, illuminating the area where WilyKat hung in the shackles.
He observed the captive Thundercat for a moment, and once he deemed him and Torlei’s actions in capturing him not a threat to his plans, he relaxed. “Good. We’ll keep him there for now. He may serve a purpose later.” He took her hand, compelling her attention. “Now, I will tell you my plan to destroy our enemies and take domain over their worlds.”
“All right.”
“As one who was once a Lunatac in life, you may find it interesting to know that the sword of your people, the MoonSaber, has been discovered.”
“The MoonSaber? Really? It’s been missing for decades. King Mallar went to the grave with the secret of its whereabouts after he had his icewalker sorceress hide it… if he even really knew where she left it.”
“It was found on the ice moon by miners. Apparently the sorceress Chillandra buried it there all those years ago. And now it’s been found and returned to the Lunatac royalty on the Third Moon of Plundarr.”
Torlei’s lips curled into a pensive frown. “King Lunaro must be quite old by now. He wasn’t young when we were run off the moons.”
“King Lunaro is dead. His son and daughter rule the Moons now. Inexperienced and young, both of them. The queen is weak and naïve, and the prince impulsive and overconfident.” Mumm-Ra grinned malevolently. “They will be easy to manipulate into fulfilling the prophecy of their own doom, as will Lion-O and the Thundercats, and those miserable Mutants.”
“The ancient prophecy that King Mallar was afraid of when he ordered Chillandra to hide the MoonSaber lest anyone try to steal it again, you mean?”
Mumm-Ra nodded. “When all three of the ancient swords—The Sword of Omens, the Sword of Plundarr, and the MoonSaber—are used on each other and the Incantation of Destruction is recited, a terrible power greater than the three swords together will be unleashed, and the victor strong enough to withstand its power will rule all that remains. All we must do is convince the Lunatac Silvian to attack Lion-O and the rest of the Thundercats, and instigate the Mutant Ratar-O to attack both groups with the Sword of Plundarr while we recite the Incantation of Destruction as they fight. The three of them and their miserable people will suffer the destruction while you and I harness the power of the combined swords to rule what remains in ultimate and undisputed power.”
“I thought you had the Sword of Plundarr, not that rat Ratar-O.”
“Yes, but that is easily remedied. The Mutant Warrior King will be all too eager to reclaim the sword his ancestor lost to Jaga and believe himself in my debt for returning it to him. He will do whatever we ask without an inkling that it takes him to his own demise.”
Torlei let out a wicked cackle. “And you’ll get to see your longtime enemy Lion-O do himself in, thinking he’s protecting his people.”
“While you enjoy the pleasure of witnessing a relation of Luna’s play a key role in the Lunatacs’ destruction.” His eyes glowed red with delight. “You’ll be pleased to know that she, and your other worthless former companions, are in the Lunar royalty’s company right now. The former king might have detested your once leader and her associates, but the queen and prince embrace her as a lost relation.”
“Sickening,” Torlei hissed in contempt. “They must be fools indeed to think Luna’s worthy company.”
Mumm-Ra enjoyed watching her bitterness bubble to the surface at the mention of those she hated so. “Not only her, but your dear brother as well. Did you know he had a bastard son before he left the Moons?”
That revelation caught Torlei off guard. “What?”
“A psi woman bore his child, presumably not long after your old crew fled the Third Moon. Her son, your nephew, not only lives among the royalty, but married their queen.”
Torlei’s lips curled back in a surprised sneer. “Is that so? My, King Lunaro and his prissy little wife must be railing in the astral about that. A lunar royal heir married to a non-lunar, and a bastard with a criminal for a father at that? Funny, considering my brother took up with that girl simply because her family was Fourth Moon nobility. His child got the privilege he sought for himself but was denied.”
“No longer,” Mumm-Ra said carefully, knowing that what he would say next would needle her into a fit. “He’s been welcomed among them along with Luna and the others. In the end, only you were denied the pardon for the crimes of the Lunatacs of Plundarr on the Moons.”
Mumm-Ra’s machinations worked like a charm, and Torlei’s temper flared like lightning in a stormy sky. “On the contrary. In the end, only I will have it all, because they’ll all be dead. My traitorous brother and his spawn, his wench of a boss, and the whole rotting lot of them! Dead while I—and you, of course,” she amended, “gloat over their accursed bodies.”
“Of course.” He did not bother to hide his sarcasm as he took Torlei’s hands and looked into the churning waters of the cauldron with her. It bubbled with images of the Thundercats, the MoonTower, and a complacent Ratar-O on Plundarr. The visions distorted and swirled faster and faster into a whirlpool, until they were one magnificent light that simulated a brilliant explosion. When the light faded, only Mumm-Ra and Torlei’s reflections remained, a unified pair of unfathomable malignance. “In the end, only we will remain to rule in evil.”
* * *
Seated at a table in the MoonTower’s library with a pile of books between them, Frostor and Luna were in the midst of a discussion. The two were discussing history, something each of them held an interest in. In the short time she had been at the MoonTower, Luna seemed more relaxed than she had been in years. Although their initial meeting had not gone smoothly, she had since come to like the Governor General. She found his dry wit entertaining, and was flattered by the odd sort of respect he seemed to have for her and her shady past. While she did not get the impression that he approved of her criminal lifestyle, he did not outwardly condemn her for it, either, and just asked questions pertaining to it.
The two of them had been discussing the potential of the newly recovered MoonSaber when Psiarik came in and joined them. The morning sunlight filtered in brightly through the room’s windows, but Psiarik’s mood was darker than it had been in months. The previous night had been the third night in a row he had endured his nightmare, and each time it seemed even more graphic and vivid than the last. It was costing him precious sleep and rest, and he did not think he could stand the vision of Selene dying and the world ending while he could do nothing but watch even one more time.
Frostor looked up when he entered. “You look terrible.”
“I feel like it,” Psiarik responded, not bothering to take offense to the truth. “It’s getting so I can’t sleep at all anymore without having a damned nightmare.”
“What kind of nightmares?” Luna set aside the book she had been browsing. An inscription on the leather-bound tome’s cover immediately caught Psiarik’s eye, and what color remained on his already pale-from-insomnia face drained from it.
“What’s going on with you?” Frostor eyed him with concern.
“That inscription,” Psiarik said with a haunted look, staring at the book as if it would leap up and burn him. “‘When the past becomes the present and the ancient struggle is set in motion, only what seems impossible can stop the inevitable.’”
“Oh, that?” Luna made a cynical chuckle. “The ancient prophets got a kick out of being cryptic.”
“Well, what fun would it have been for them to say anything outright?” Frostor quipped back before returning his attention to Psiarik, who failed to see anything humorous in it.
“It’s a prophecy?” He swallowed a feeling of dread. “I hear that in my dreams. Some voice shouts it out right before I wake up. I don’t remember hearing it anywhere else, though.”
All remaining levity left Frostor’s tone. “That inscription is a part of the prophecy of the end of our world, a part of the legend of the swords. Are you saying you’ve been dreaming about that?”
Psiarik sighed and slumped into one of the chairs. “What can I say? I’m a depressing kind of guy.”
“I’m being serious,” Frostor said, switching into the seat beside him. “You’ve been dreaming psychic images at the same time we find the MoonSaber? Tell us everything you remember about the dream right now. It’s important. You should’ve said something sooner.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Psiarik looked from Frostor to Luna, who watched him with the same intensity that he did, as he described the nightmares as requested. “It’s part of it’s a nightmare I’ve had long before that sword turned up. I’ve been having it off and on ever since the Thundera explosion disasters hit and my family was killed in the eruption quakes. The first part is like a miserable replay of that, like it wasn’t bad enough the first time, and then it gets even worse. That’s the newer part, the part that’s keeping me up.”
Psiarik closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his forehead while resting his other arm on the table. “After my house falls into the chasm, the scenery changes, and I’m on Thundera... at least, I think it’s Thundera. I’ve never been there, but for some reason I think it is. In the dream Silvian is already dead, and Selene has the MoonSaber. She’s fighting some red-haired lion Thundercat and a rat Mutant who have what I guess are their worlds’ swords. There’s this chanting in the background, and others are there too, but I think it comes from these two dark figures. I can’t really see much about them, but they’re creepy, in that way that makes your skin crawl just looking at them.” He paused before continuing. “Then there’s this big crash of lighting where the swords twist and pull together into a huge new sword, bigger than any of us. Selene, the Thundercat, and the Mutant all fall dead. As soon as I try to say or do anything, an earthquake stops me and I can’t move, just like during the Thundera explosion disasters with my family.” He looked up and met Frostor’s eyes. “Then my father… you know, Alluro, is standing there and says something like ‘destiny’ that doesn’t really make any sense, and then I hear someone shout out that line about the impossible stopping the inevitable just before I wake up.”
“Alluro is predicting the end of the world now?” Luna said dubiously. “He’s never had seer powers before. Half the time he can’t even see past his own ego.”
“Not Alluro, it’s someone else who says that. I don’t know who. I don’t recognize the voice.”
Frostor nodded as he mulled over the account of Psiarik’s dream. “There are some compelling signs in that, and not good ones. The prophecy of the swords involves each of the ancient swords and their rightful holders. The Sword of Omens has been held by lion Thundercats for generations for the most part, and as Vultureman said, if Mumm-Ra doesn’t have the Sword of Plundarr, it would belong to the Mutant Warrior King, which would be Ratar-O of Plundarr.” He frowned. “And although we gave guardianship of the MoonSaber to Silvian, if he was dead, Selene would—”
“Yeah, but he’s alive, and so is she, and I’d like to think it’ll stay that way,” Psiarik snapped at him, and then sighed again. “Sorry. Like I said, that nightmare has me on edge, and I don’t like thinking about it, much less talking about it. Selene said she thought it was just my subconscious playing out unresolved issues about my father turning up out of nowhere.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Frostor said.
Luna gave Psiarik a pointed look. “Alluro told me that you two still haven’t spoken.”
“That’s because I have nothing to say to him,” Psiarik told her coldly. “All I have in common with him is DNA, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Truly? I know he’s not a model father by any stretch—the gods know, I’ve put up with him for years, and he annoys me at least twice a day—but I do think he’d genuinely like to know you. He’ll probably accuse me of butting in by saying so, but it’s the truth. He’s got too much pride to approach you, though, given how you’ve made your feelings known.”
Frostor chortled and gave Psiarik a knowing look. “Hmm, too much pride, I wonder if that’s in the DNA?”
Psiarik glowered back at him. “Don’t.”
“If there were any shrinks around here, you’d make a perfect head case for them,” Prince Silvian informed him as he, Selene, Chilla, and Vultureman joined them, catching the tail end of their conversation.
“No one asked you, and it’s rude to eavesdrop,” retorted Psiarik.
“Get over yourself. It’s not eavesdropping when you have a conversation in a common area with the door open.”
Frostor gestured for them to take a seat. “Ah, but if he did that, he might have to admit he’s wrong, and we know how likely that is.”
“And thank you for encouraging him,” Psiarik said while Selene stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“Why don’t we just let it go?”
Frostor nodded to Selene. “If you want.”
“Which clearly, you and Silvian don’t,” the still annoyed Psiarik said, rising to his feet. “So I think I’m going to take a walk and leave you to your theorizing.” He gave Selene’s hand a squeeze to reassure that his ire was not directed at her, and then fixed a glare on Silvian to drive his point home. “Let me know when Silvian decides to advance past the mental age of a ten year old,” he said, and then walked out.
The unimpressed Silvian rolled his eyes. “And he’s acting like an adult, right?”
“Can’t you see that he’s exhausted?” Selene chastised her brother.
“I don’t think catching up on sleep is going to fix whatever’s crawled up his pants, Sis. Maybe if he dealt with his issues instead of moping and brooding on them, he’d get some peace and we’d get some peace rather than having to baby-sit him.”
Selene frowned disapprovingly. “And maybe if you didn’t start off with your rude comments, he wouldn’t fire them back at you so quickly.”
“Rudeness aside, I don’t think that’s the only reason his temper’s on edge,” Frostor interjected. “Given what he just told me and Luna, I think it’s very likely that his dreams have psychic flashes involving the MoonSaber and the prophecy. We ought to be on guard. It could be that it’s using him to warn us. Psis are more sensitive to that sort of thing.”
Silvian’s hand fell onto the hilt of the MoonSaber in an almost instinctive way. “Psiarik, sensitive. Hah, that’s one way of putting it,” he quipped before lapsing into a more serious tone. “And I’m its guardian, not him. If it had a message to get across, wouldn’t it get it to me somehow?” He drew the sword and eyed the crescent gemstone embedded in it.
“Probably,” Frostor conceded. “I’m just concerned that in light of his dreams, some force knows the MoonSaber has been found and might be working against us. A psi seer doesn’t need to be the MoonSaber’s guardian to get a vision of warning.”
“And Psiarik isn’t a seer. He was schooled here on the Third Moon, not Mirindet. His powers are only trained in what his family taught him,” Silvian pointed out.
“His mother was an empath, and his stepfather was a seer, from what he’s told me,” Selene told them. “But all psis are born with the spectrum of the abilities to a degree.” She looked to Luna and Chilla. “Is there a seer history on his father’s side?”
Luna straightened in her seat. “Like I told Frostor, Alluro’s never been prophetic.”
“He’s a hypnotist. That’s his specialty,” said Chilla.
Frostor considered what they said. “Hypnotists have a bit of empathic abilities.”
“Being empathic would imply Alluro is sensitive to other people’s feelings, and I can assure you, that’s not the case,” Luna said snidely.
Silvian re-sheathed the MoonSaber, his attention back on the conversation. “Regardless, none of us have to worry about that prophecy, because I’m not going to use our sword in conjunction with any Incantation of Destruction. Nothing a Thunderian or Mutant did would make me risk our Moons going through more devastation.”
Selene’s eyes fell upon the mystical sword on Silvian’s belt, and she found herself contemplating its power and why someone would use it to do such a thing. Surely none of the leaders of Plundarr or New Thundera would want to see their worlds or people endure horrors allegedly worse than the Thundera explosion disasters, would they? But there was still the question of Mumm-Ra, who supposedly had the Mutants’ sword. “Vultureman, Aunt Luna,” she said to the two most familiar with the demon priest, “if Mumm-Ra had the Sword of Plundarr, do you think he would try to steal our MoonSaber to start this Incantation of Destruction?”
“Caw, Mumm-Ra would do anything to destroy the Thundercats and Lion-O, including wipe out two planets and five moons,” Vultureman said bluntly. “Getting the Sword of Omens was what he was after with them in the first place.”
Luna nodded in agreement. “And Mumm-Ra is none too fond of any of us. He betrayed us, the Mutants, and just about everyone else who ever worked with him.” She paused and then added, “And Torlei isn’t much of a fan of ours, either, especially since I killed her.”
“You killed her?” asked a surprised Frostor. It was not the killing that shocked him; it was that Luna had killed one of her own crew, one she seemed oddly devoted to despite their dysfunctional dynamic, that did.
“In self defense,” Luna told him. “She’d gone insane and was trying to kill us all. I beat her to the punch with a lucky shot from a laser blaster.”
Silvian’s face wrinkled in confusion. “This may be a stupid question, but if she’s dead, how can she do anything?”
“Remember when we said she was dead and married to the mummy that imprisoned us?” When Silvian, Selene, and Frostor gave a nod, Luna went on to elaborate. “Some years after she died, Mumm-Ra raised her from the dead, the gods only know why, and wed her in some twisted black magic mockery of a marriage. His spirit masters transformed her into an undead creature like him.” She frowned, and those who knew her well might have noticed a rueful note creep into her voice. “Torlei always did have ambition, and in life, she had an interest in the darker teachings of the occult. I never paid it much attention, since she wasn’t making a pest of herself with it. Knowing what I know now, I suppose someone like her would sell her soul to dark gods for the right reason. Anyhow, she’s been out of the picture ever since her and Mumm-Ra’s debut partnership ended with the Thundercats saving the day and blasting her into a volcano.” She paused, and then added, “But enough time dealing with Mumm-Ra has taught me that ‘ever-living’ isn’t a term to be taken lightly.”
Chilla raised an eyebrow. “You never said you thought she was alive before, Luna.”
“Bah! Do you think I’d say that in front of Alluro so we could listen to him obsess about his dead sister endlessly?” she retorted. “I don’t think so, and I don’t think you should, either.”
“No. Besides, if Mumm-Ra was going to strike at us, he’s had plenty of time to try it. We were easy targets back on Way Out Back,” Chilla pointed out.
“That’s true,” Luna said, while Silvian, Selene, and Frostor relaxed. Vultureman, on the other hand, was not as optimistic, but he chose to keep his beak shut. Things were tense in the MoonTower as it was without inciting paranoia about prophecies, evil immortals, or impending invasions from wannabe sword-snatchers. Lunatacs were strange enough on a good day when they weren’t feeling out of sorts.