Revival
(Revised Edition, January 2009)
by Cheezey
Part Two: Illusions
In an effort to cool off, Psiarik stormed into Vultureman’s lab on the lower level of the MoonTower. He glanced over the contents of the benches looking for a gadget or gizmo-in-progress that would generate a nice destructive blast or two to let him vent some steam. There were a lot of boulders in the fields behind the MoonTower and he was certain that he could find one that was about five feet tall and had a big head, something that could pass for his irritating brother-in-law Prince Silvian. He approached the first bench and began rifling through the odds and ends on it when he heard a voice behind him.
“Psiarik?”
Alluro’s face was among the last he wanted to see at that moment. “What are you doing here?” he asked with an accusatory tone.
“Vultureman offered to let me take a look at some of his newer inventions. I worked with him a time or two on Third Earth, so I was curious as to what the bird brain’s come up with over the years,” Alluro told him. “Why are you here? Are you a scientist?”
“No, I’m someone who’s pissed off and looking for something the royal inventor might’ve come up with to let me blow up rocks that remind me of my brother-in-law,” the younger psi retorted, picking up the gadget nearest him. Unfortunately it seemed to be more of a meter or monitor of some type rather than a weapon, but whatever it was, it was preferable to examine in place of looking at who was speaking to him. Facing Alluro meant facing the issues that his long-absent and much maligned-by-his-mother father brought up, and he was not in the mood to deal with that on a good day, much less on little to no sleep.
Alluro eyed his newfound son curiously. “You don’t get along with him?”
Psiarik sighed and turned to look at what else was on the bench. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s Selene’s brother, and he’s family, but he doesn’t know when to shut his big mouth.”
A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Alluro’s mouth at the realization that the same statement could apply to a certain relation of Silvian’s that he knew quite well. “Sounds like Luna.”
“Yeah well, they are related. Maybe annoying tendencies are hereditary.” As soon as he said it, Psiarik realized that he had inadvertently opened the door for the exact discussion he wanted to avoid, and he kicked himself inwardly for it, especially when Alluro then gave him a questioning look. “Look, I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” Alluro cut him off. “I don’t need to be an empath to figure out what you think of me.” He frowned. “If I’d known about you—”
“What? Would it have changed anything? Somehow I don’t think so,” Psiarik snapped as his anger roiled. “My mother told me all I need to know about you, and to put it politely I’ll just say that most of it wasn’t flattering. You lied to her and you used her.” He glared at Alluro, unable to stop now that he had gotten started. “Do you know how she found out about who and what you really were?”
Alluro’s brow rose at that. “Did Lurella tell you and her family that she didn’t know I worked with Luna to save face?” He laughed. “I didn’t think she had that sort of guile in her.”
Psiarik saw no humor in it and his scowl deepened. “No, there was no hiding that, although it probably would’ve been less humiliating for her to have said my father was a one-night-stand instead of a wanted criminal. But once the charges were made, everyone knew. She thought you were different, that you loved and needed her, until reality set in and she saw the list of crimes you and your pals were involved in… on mass media, no less, rather than from your mouth or someone who actually cared about her.” He glared at Alluro as though he was the lowest form of life in existence. “That’s when it sunk in that you were only ever in it for yourself, and that everyone who warned her you were just a sleaze after her money was right. Unfortunately it was too late by then, she was already screwed and pregnant with me.” Psiarik folded his arms. “Most likely I was better off without you anyway, even if I was the living embodiment of her mistake.” He let out a hollow, cynical laugh. “And the only survivor in her family at that. Some legacy. They must be thrilled. But maybe that was my lot in life for being the bastard.”
If Alluro had not been stung personally by the venom
directed at him in Psiarik’s, or rather, Lurella’s bitter and biased take on
the events, he would have laughed out loud at his son’s melodramatics. Oh yes, the boy must have had it hard indeed
growing up in a noble family with snobbery as his worst hardship, Alluro
thought, and even though he had played loosely with Lurella’s feelings, he did
not recall her complaining any of the times they had shared a bed. He
probably wouldn’t believe me if I told him I would have married his mother,
even if not for the reasons he would’ve liked.
“Your lot in life,” Alluro repeated sarcastically. “Status, power, a pretty wife that just happens to be royalty? And you blame it on me? We should all have such problems. At least I can say with certainty that your penchant for whining comes from your mother’s side.”
The other psi clenched his hand into a fist and glowered at Alluro with unbridled contempt. “You don’t know the first thing about me, or what my life has been like!”
“Perhaps in my exile on Third Earth, being harassed by an undead mummy, my time locked up in a Circus Train, or my years on the run with Luna dodging sanctimonious CONTROL officers and Thundercat helpers has dulled my perspective, but somehow I don’t think being married to the queen makes for rough pitiable living.”
“Your misery is of your own doing,” Psiarik spat accusingly at him. “Mine? Your part in my life beyond sperm donation was to serve as the example thrown up in my face of how not to be at every opportunity, and believe me, there were plenty.” He turned away. “And that was while I still had family. I lost them when I was a teenager in the disasters. My mother, my stepfather, my half-sister, even my cousins and aunts and uncles. Every last one of them.” Psiarik turned and stared harshly at Alluro. “That bad enough to please you?”
The hypnotist frowned, the anger and loathing in his son’s eyes hurting him on a level he had not previously experienced. “Your mother must’ve painted me as quite the monster to think that I’d be pleased to see a son of mine hurt. I’d have thought an empath would’ve known me better than that, especially given how close my sister and I were in those days. Regardless of why I took up with Lurella, I never wished her ill, and certainly never would’ve done so to our son… a son she never told me about.”
“I told you, she didn’t know about me until after you were already history, the gods know where. Halfway to Third Earth, I guess, on your way to the good life of raiding where you missed all the disasters back home.”
“The ‘good life’? Is that what you think life on Third Earth was like?” Alluro retorted with a cynical laugh. “Let me tell you about Third Earth. When we weren’t trapped in molten rock, we had to kowtow to Mumm-Ra’s insane whims, tolerate the incompetent idiocy of the Mutants, the constant run-ins with the Thundercats that balked our plans and moralized at us at every step, and oh, as a bonus, I got to watch my sister die not once, but twice. Then when that joyous stay on Third Earth concluded, it was because those damnable Thundercats helped that worthless Captain Bragg lock us up on Way Out Back. So please, spare me your insights on the Third Earth ‘good life’ until you leave your precious little palace and live it for yourself,” he seethed in disgust. “I’d say between what you, your wife, the prince, Frostor, and the others dealt with in the disasters was not so much worse than what we put up with while we were away.”
“I see,” Psiarik scoffed. “So I’m supposed to feel sorry for you, is that it?”
Alluro frowned. “No, but you ought to stop feeling so sorry for yourself.”
Shaking his head, Psiarik said sarcastically, “Don’t you think it’s a little late for fatherly advice?”
“Apparently so,” the fed up Alluro retorted, and grumbled under his breath. “That’s the last time I ever listen to Luna on a personal matter. Her advice is as useless as she is.” He took several swift strides toward the door while Psiarik stood there, suddenly struck with a flash of remorse.
“Alluro… wait.” The elder psi turned around, but said nothing while Psiarik continued to stare at him for a moment. Finally the younger psi asked, “You asked Luna about me?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You cared enough to ask?” Psiarik’s statement betrayed a hint of emotion other than anger, and that in turn led Alluro to rein in his wounded ego long enough to answer honestly.
“Yes,” he said. “Whether you like it or not, you’re the only family I have left. Surprised as I was to find out about it, it does matter to me.” He frowned. “But if you’ve already made up your mind to hate me based on what your mother told you about me, then I won’t waste my time. If I’m in the mood for verbal abuse, Luna’s always happy to dish that out and hers I’m at least used to.”
The sincerity in Alluro’s words was clear enough to Psiarik, and he relented in his own stubbornness. “All right, maybe I did judge you too harshly. I don’t know you personally, and only heard Mom and her family’s side,” he admitted. “But what they told me and what Frostor’s history books say about you and Luna and your group are pretty damning, you have to admit.” Alluro nodded, and Psiarik continued. “And my mother… you were using her.”
“I admit that,” Alluro said. “But regardless of what she told you, even if I didn’t love your mother, hurting her was incidental, not an intention.”
“And I’m going to say now that if you ever mess with me, Selene, or anyone else I care about, I’ll see to it personally that you regret the day you laid eyes on my mother and allowed me to be born,” Psiarik warned him.
“You don’t need to worry about that. Despite who I am and what you know about me, I’m no ever-living source of evil,” Alluro said with a hint of wryness. “Like I said, you’re my only family, Psiarik. I’d rather be on good terms with you than bad.”
Psiarik smiled faintly. “All right then. As long as we’ve got that straight, maybe we can work something out.”
Alluro echoed the friendly gesture. “Let’s talk.”
* * *
Little Cheetaro, the son of Lion-O and Cheetara, sat contentedly in his playroom building a pyramid with his toy blocks. Snarf had been watching him, but he had left the room for a moment to check on a loud noise that sounded too much like a crash for his liking that had originated in Pumari’s room. Chet did not know why he wanted to build a pyramid with four towers on each corner, but he did so anyway, and when it was finished, he stared at it with rapt attention.
“Mumm-Ra,” the cub said in an eerie tone. “Torlei.” He spoke the two names aloud even though there was no one to hear him, names that echoed through his mind in a way he had not experienced before. Then suddenly it seemed to the child that the entire room around him vanished, replaced by a terrible darkness. Looking around scared, Chet saw two frightening figures and a grotesque dog that loomed in the shadows by a pool. Monsters, the terrified child thought, they’re monsters! Panicking, the child turned and saw something equally scary—WilyKat hanging limply in chains against a stone wall on the other side of the chamber from the monsters.
The intense aura of evil and fear permeated the atmosphere of the place Chet found himself in, and he cried out in fear. The two frightening figures and their demon dog then turned their attention to him, eyes ablaze with malicious intent, causing the cub to scream in abject terror.
When the frightened child opened his eyes, the awful place was gone and he was back at home, safe in Snarf’s comforting arms. The nursemaid rocked him and spoke gently, doing his best to reassure and calm him. “It’s okay, little guy. It’s all right. You’re safe with old Snarf.”
Chet’s wails quieted to soft cries and then sniffles. He looked up at Snarf uneasily, but began to relax when he saw for himself that the scary monsters were gone and there was no sign of a harmed WilyKat. Relieved that whatever had upset him so had seemingly passed, Snarf smiled at the cub and set him back down. He handed the boy a berbil-berry and chocolate cookie. “Here you go. This ought to make you feel better, snarf snarf.”
Smiling now, Chet took the cookie and immediately took a big bite. The scary vision was forgotten.
* * *
Alone in his bedroom, Silvian struck a dramatic pose in front of his mirror with the MoonSaber. “Take that!” he declared to an invisible foe, admiring the ease with which he found himself handling it, and rather pleased if he did say so himself with how he looked with it. “The ladies will definitely like this,” he said with a confident grin.
The prince’s preening was interrupted as a shimmering glow formed in the mirror’s glass, filling it with a brilliant white light reminiscent of the sun shining upon frozen snow. Silvian blinked in astonishment, but did not tense for a fight and instead merely watched the phenomenon. The initial flash of the light dimmed to a pleasing glow and the image of a woman slowly formed within it. The figure was that of a proud icewalker with facial features similar to Chilla’s, although this woman was clearly not the Lunatac that he had met only a short time ago. This ice woman’s hair was long and white, tied back from her face in an intricate braid. She wore a dark blue velour bodysuit accented with silvery armored boots, pauldrons, and a belt in a matched set. Around her neck and down her back hung a satiny cape similarly colored to her clothing, fastened by the royal Lunar insignia upon her chest.
“Prince Silvian!” Her natural icewalker voice was harsh and commanding, but eloquent with the slight accent of one who had spent time in the royal court on the Third Moon.
Startled as the vision spoke to him, Silvian took a step closer to the mirror, and it was then that he recognized her as the woman from a portrait that had hung in the old royal palace. “Chillandra?” he murmured, awestruck.
The figure nodded. “I am she who was called Mistress of the Cold. Your kingdom is in grave danger, Prince Silvian. The MoonSaber your grandfather bade me to protect has been found.”
“I know,” Silvian said, and held it out to show the apparition. “But I have it, and it’s safe.”
Chillandra shook her head and voice retained its ominous tone. “The Moons will never be safe as long as the Thundercats that tried to steal it from us exist. They mean to take it from you. Years ago they tried and failed, but make no mistake—they will try again! Especially now that the snow leopard has been freed from the ice prison I left her in, she will seek to see her mission fulfilled. Be warned, young prince, and do not be fooled into complacency!”
Silvian’s eyes narrowed determinedly. “They’ll never take this from me. They’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”
“Stop them before they can, Prince Silvian.”
The prince frowned as the meaning of the ghostly sorceress’ order sank in. “I don’t like Thundercats any more than any self-respecting Lunatac, but they haven’t attacked or threatened us. There’s no proof—”
“What more proof than my word do you need?” Chillandra’s spirit hissed at him, her eyes flashing with impatience and short temper. “I see all from the astral, and I tell you now that the felines plot treachery against your people. They intend to steal the MoonSaber and subjugate our people into living by their code, with no regard to our laws or our culture. They will destroy everything you hold dear if they get our sword. Stop them!”
Something in her words struck a chord within the lunar prince. From what little he knew of Thundercats, all secondhand accounts given that he had never encountered one, he did know of their touted Code of Thundera, and Luna and her friends had told them enough for him to be rightfully wary of them. “I know they’re self-righteous, but they condemn us for raiding and having slaves. Wouldn’t conquering and enslaving us would go against their high and mighty code?”
Chillandra eyed him with a piercing stare. “The felines are hypocrites! They use their code to justify their agenda. They call us thieves, but would take what’s ours claiming it’s for our own good. They decry slavery, but don’t think twice about imposing their will on their enemies through force. Don’t be fooled by their pretense of honor. Strike them before they strike you. Destroy them!”
“Destroy them?” Silvian repeated, an apprehensive edge creeping into his voice. “But I’ve never just attacked anyone, not without reason.” The lunar prince was hotheaded, impulsive, and eager to prove himself, but did not lust for the blood of his enemies. He was of the mindset to let a sleeping cat lie, so long as it did not come into his backyard.
Chillandra would not be swayed, and she nearly shrieked back at him with fire in her eyes. “Don’t you think the preservation of the Moons is a reason?”
“But neither Selene nor I ever even led an invasion,” he admitted. “And the Thundercats haven’t attacked—”
“They will, Prince Silvian! You and you alone with the MoonSaber must stop them before it’s too late for all of you. You owe it to your people. The fate of the Moons lies in your hands, Guardian of the MoonSaber. Don’t let them down. Protect them. Go to New Thundera and stop the Thundercat Lord from carrying out that wretched snow leopard’s failed mission before they destroy everything you hold dear.”
The ghostly icewalker’s threats were too dire for Silvian to brush off. Painful memories of his childhood with Selene, enduring the loss of nearly all that he loved and growing up in the uncertainty of a shattered world, were enough to convince him that he could not allow such a thing to ever happen again, no matter what. Besides, Chillandra was one of their own, an honored advisor of his grandfather’s and a loyal servant to his people. Certainly her spirit could be trusted. “All right,” Silvian agreed somberly. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect the Moons.”
“Today,” Chillandra insisted. “You must leave now. Each moment that passes is another that the Thundercats have to put their plans into motion.”
Silvian nodded and clutched the MoonSaber. “Now then,” he said, and immediately left the room. He stopped only long enough to inform his sister, whom he found in a sitting room with Frostor, Chilla, Luna, Amok, and TugMug. After telling them what he had been told, they agreed that action must be taken, and Frostor, Chilla, and TugMug volunteered to accompany him on the mission as backup. Selene wished them all luck and a safe return, and she, Luna, and Amok watched them depart in a royal battleship from a solarium on the MoonTower’s top floor.
The specter of Chillandra also watched the prince and his companions leave, but with a sinister look as opposed to the concerned one on the lunar queen’s face. Slowly the façade of Chillandra twisted and morphed, revealing her true identity beneath. Jagged and rotted teeth flashed between sneering and decayed lips, and the malevolent red power of the Ancient Spirits of Evil blazed in his eyes. “Yes, Prince Silvian, do go and attack the Thundercats,” Mumm-Ra chuckled maliciously. “I’ll be there when your swords clash and you meet your fate, and will take good care of the power and what’s left of the worlds you leave behind. But you won’t be here to worry about that.” The echo of Mumm-Ra’s wicked and maniacal laughter filled the prince’s empty bedchamber before he vanished from it altogether.
* * *
A planet away on the Mutants’ home of Plundarr, the great Ratar-O sat at the head of the grand table of the war room in the palace of the Mutant Warrior King. The proud holder of that title for many years now, Ratar-O was not sitting idly on his throne enjoying the provocative dances of his harem of female Mutant concubines or feasting in the great hall with other Mutant nobles, clan leaders, or governors. He was restless that day, and had chosen to spend his time studying recent reports and chartings of an asteroid cluster that held promise of unmined fuel and riches. The area was uninhabited and inhospitable, but CONTROL had a loose claim on the territory and Ratar-O had conflicting urgings from the simian and reptilian clans as to whether to pursue an operation there. The reptilians were insistent that it was necessary for their power needs in their military base and primary city, while the simians were against the notion, irked to see more of their tax credits funding reptilian ambition.
At least the jackals and vultures aren’t complaining this time, the rat mused. Throw the canines a bone and they shut up, and the vultures are too busy squawking about how under-appreciated they are in the empire to care how long the simians and reptilians squabble in state meetings. He set down one folder and picked up another, thumbing through it while his whiskers twitched restlessly. He supposed he ought to be glad that the other rat clan leaders were staying largely out of it. At least the lizards and monkeys aren’t bribing my family members left and right for a favorable decision this time, he thought with disgust.
A blinding flash of light interrupted his ruminations. The rat looked up, stunned, and saw the image of his ancestor Ratilla, one of the mightiest mutant warriors and leaders of record, standing before him. “Ratar-O,” the ghost greeted him.
“Ratilla?” Ratar-O said, disbelief in his voice even as he witnessed it with his own eyes.
“Yes,” confirmed the rat spirit. “I am Ratilla, and I’ve come to help you reclaim your destiny and birthright.”
“My birthright?” Ratar-O repeated. “What are you talking about? I’m the Mutant Warrior King. I have my birthright, and my throne.”
“But not the Sword of Plundarr.” Ratilla pointed a long brown finger at him. “It was forged to be in the hands of Mutants, but the devil priest Mumm-Ra the Ever-Living has it instead. For generations it was held and wielded by the best and strongest of Mutant-kind. It should be in your hands, Ratar-O, not his.”
The living rat frowned, whiskers twitching, as he considered what the spirit of his ancestor told him. “Indeed.”
“Since I was the last Mutant to hold the Sword of Plundarr, and my unfortunate defeat at the hands of that miserable Thundercat Jaga is what caused it to be lost, it’s my duty to return it to our people and its rightful holder,” Ratilla’s ghost explained. “Jaga and the Thundercats dealt us a double insult that day. First he refused me the honor of a warrior’s death by trapping and exiling me instead, leaving me to perish alone in space. Second, he stole the very sword of Mutant-kind, handed to us by the gods themselves, and sought to destroy it in a volcano.”
Ratar-O let out a contemptuous growl that matched the anger of his spectral ancestor. “The wretch Jaga is dead, perished on the ship that took him from the dying Thundera. That fool Slythe got that much right in his reports. Not as fitting retribution as he deserves, but delivered to his fate nonetheless.” A cruel sneer tugged at his mouth. “And from what I hear, the Sword of Plundarr had its revenge by causing the destruction of the old Thundera itself.”
“It had its revenge, but not its satisfaction. Thundera is reborn and our sword did not spill the blood of my enemy. The time has come to rectify that. Mumm-Ra the Ever-Living claimed the Sword of Plundarr, and the gods allowed him to keep it for a time, to punish my failure in letting it fall into the hands of the Thundercats. But its destiny won’t be denied, and the demon sorcerer knows that. The time has come to return it to you, Ratar-O, so you that you can avenge the wrong done to me by Lord Jaga. He took my life from me but did not end it. The Sword of Plundarr cries for the blood of a Thundercat Lord to be shed at the hands of the Mutant Warrior King.”
“And Mumm-Ra will give me the Sword of Plundarr?” Ratar-O asked. “Just like that?”
Ratilla let out a victorious laugh. “Yes, just like that! Mumm-Ra knows better than to balk destiny, and nothing would please him more than to see the Lord of the Thundercats dead once and for all.”
“The thought pleases me too,” the rat Mutant agreed. “But I thought the cats defeated Mumm-Ra years ago. Are you saying he’s still around, and alive?”
“Mumm-Ra can never die.” Ratilla’s eyes nearly glowed with intensity as he spoke. “Go to New Thundera to his black pyramid. You will find it there in the ruins, and him in it. He has the Sword of Plundarr, and he will give it to you so you can have revenge on Lion-O and New Thundera and conquer the Thundercats once and for all.”
Nodding slowly, Ratar-O then said, “And what does Mumm-Ra ask in return? I know enough of the mummy to know he doesn’t do favors on a whim.”
“The Ancient Spirits of Evil and our gods have made a pact in this matter,” Ratilla told him. “Mumm-Ra will return the Sword of Plundarr asking only that you allow him to do as he wishes on New Thundera once Lion-O is finished and you’ve conquered the Thundercats.”
“Excellent.” Ratar-O drew his Rat’s Eyes in anticipation of the upcoming battle. He wondered how different it would be to wield the mighty Sword of Plundarr in place of his magical twin sais, and smiled at the notion of having to make such a decision.
“Go to Mumm-Ra now,” Ratilla urged. “Don’t fail me, or your fellow Mutants!”
You mean like you did, my ancestor? Ratar-O thought snidely, although he left it unsaid out of respect to Ratilla, his position, and his legacy. Instead he simply replied, “I’ll finish what you started all those years ago, Ratilla. Lord Lion-O and the Thundercats will be an annoying footnote in our history, and New Thundera will be Plundarr’s!” The Mutant Warrior King then held up his Rat’s Eyes together, causing them to glow with power, before re-sheathing them on his belt and heading for the nearest ship.
Once more, the ghost Mumm-Ra masqueraded as faded to reveal his true form as soon as the foolish mortal he had duped left the room. “I had forgotten how amusing these little games can be,” the ancient mummy cackled. “I look forward to the look on Lion-O’s face when both the Mutants and the Lunatacs turn up on his doorstep crying for his blood.” He laughed again, and vanished from sight.
* * *
Back on the Third Moon, Psiarik’s mood had much improved. After he and Alluro had broken the ice and come to a resolution regarding their familial tie, each came away having learned a bit about the other, and that they had a few things in common other than receding hairlines and lunars that irritated them on a regular basis. Hearing Alluro’s side of the story as far as his mother was concerned gave him a new perspective. He would never approve of how he had treated her, but he had never realized how much her bitterness might have colored the facts as she presented them. Granted, he could not take Alluro’s version as gospel either, but he had a feeling about where the truth of it was, and he supposed he could accept that as long as Alluro kept his word to never be deceitful with him or those he cared about. Like Selene and Silvian had with Luna, Psiarik could leave Alluro’s criminal acts in the past so long as he left that behavior behind him there. Alluro was willing to give that much; with no other family of his own left on the Moons and already tied to someone with lofty societal ties, what need was there for him to seek more? None at that time, anyway.
Therefore it came as a welcome and pleasant surprise when the two of them joined Selene, Luna, Amok, Vultureman, RedEye, and Lushara in one of the MoonTower’s lounges walking in together and neither visibly hostile toward the other. “Oh, does this mean what I think it does?” Selene asked with a smile. “Are you two finally working things out?”
When Alluro and Psiarik both nodded back to the lunar queen, Luna harrumphed from
atop Amok. “Well it’s about time.”
Selene giggled good-naturedly. “Silvian’s big mouth runs on your branch of the family, doesn’t it, Aunt Luna?”
Psiarik looked over those gathered in the room and noticed his brother-in-law’s absence. “Where is the Prince of Obnoxiousness anyway?”
“Oh, caw, you missed all the action,” Vultureman informed him. “Silvian came to Selene a little while ago saying the ghost of Chillandra told him to strike at the Thundercats before they did us, and that they were planning an attack.”
“What? A ghost appeared and told him that?” Alluro asked dubiously.
Selene nodded. “Yes. He was very rattled by it… we all were.” She frowned. “I’ve been trying to keep my mind off of it until I hear from him, since he went off to do as she asked. Chillandra’s spirit told him that the Thundercats planned to steal the MoonSaber, that the Thundercat who originally tried to take it was freed by the others, and that they were resuming their attempts to take it because they knew it’d been found. Apparently they want to force us out of rulership and make us live under their rule.” The lunar queen frowned. “Unbelievable. We’ve never even interacted with the Thundercats, and they plot against us this way? Our parents fought those wars, not us. Even all these years after the disasters, the Moons have barely enough ships and weaponry to maintain our own military for defense, let alone go out on mass conquests.”
The color drained from Psiarik’s face. “No,” he said, horrified, reminded of his nightmare. “He went to New Thundera?”
“Not just him,” Luna said. “Frostor insisted on going along, and Chilla and TugMug went too. I suppose they were getting a bit stir-crazy and wanted to see some action.”
RedEye grunted. “Not me. I’m not tired of taking it easy just yet.”
“And I’m sure your new best friend has nothing to do with that,” Luna quipped, noting how close her associate stood to Lushara, the female darkling of the MoonTower.
While RedEye shot Luna a look that clearly said “butt out,” Lushara took the opportunity to divert the conversation back to topic at hand. “They took a pretty decent ship, our best armed one. Frostor made sure they all had good weapons when they left, and Silvian has been practicing with that sword. Hopefully between his recent sparring practice with it and the fact that it’s a magical weapon attuned to him will keep him in one piece.” Selene grimaced at that, and Lushara offered her a reassuring smile. “And he did seem pretty confident that he was going to have no trouble ‘kicking their self-righteous asses.’”
Vultureman shrugged. “The Thundercats have probably gotten so used to their happy little world where everyone follows their code and Mumm-Ra is gone that they’ve gotten used to having it easy. I doubt they’re, caw, used to fighting anymore.”
Hearing all of that only made Psiarik feel worse, and his stomach twisted into an anxious knot. “You’re telling me that Silvian took the MoonSaber to New Thundera to fight Thundercats?”
“Well where else would they go? They all live there now except for one or two on Third Earth,” Luna said, and frowned. “Is this about that dream you told me and Frostor about?”
“Yes!” the psi snapped. “And I can’t believe you all just let him go.”
Selene went over to her husband’s side, worry now etched on her features. “It wasn’t a decision we made lightly, even if it was quick. He didn’t want to wait to find anyone else. Chillandra made it seem like he had no time at all to waste. She was the one my grandfather entrusted with hiding the MoonSaber… surely we can trust her spirit’s advice to lead us away from harm?”
Psiarik closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to force the ugly images of his dreams from his mind. “I don’t know about Chillandra, I just know what I dreamt and if Silvian’s on New Thundera then he’s in serious danger.” He looked her straight in the eye. “He’s going to die there, at the hands of the red-haired Thundercat or the rat Mutant.”
“Red-haired Thundercat?” RedEye repeated. “Lion-O? Or the girl, I guess she’d be grown now?”
“A male. The Lord of the Thundercats,” Psiarik confirmed.
Frowning, Alluro said, “That would be Lion-O.”
“By the gods.” Psiarik slammed his fist on the table. “Frostor thinks my dream is a prophecy, well if it is, Silvian’s dead. We all will be, if he’s heading into a battle using Incantation of Destruction.”
“Silvian’s not an idiot, Psiarik, he’s not going to use that,” Lushara pointed out. “And I can’t imagine that any Thundercat or Mutant would be that stupid either.”
Vultureman cawed and paced toward the window. “We can hope, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter, because they aren’t the ones doing it. They are!”
“Who are?” Selene asked Psiarik, unable to make sense of what he was saying in his agitated state, and growing more alarmed herself by the minute. “Who’s ‘they’?”
“The cloaked figures!” he shouted at her. “They’re chanting, and if Frostor’s right, then they’re chanting that ancient incantation while Silvian and the others fight.”
“What cloaked figures? Who are they?” asked RedEye.
Vultureman let out a cynical squawk. “Hmm, someone that practices black magic, wears a cloak, and would have no problems inciting mass destruction to get revenge on his enemies. I wonder.”
“Mumm-Ra.” Alluro finished the avian’s thought, enunciating the name with disgusted realization.
Selene, meanwhile, became hysterical. “No! My brother! Oh, gods!” Her naturally high-pitched lunar voice took on a shrill shriek not dissimilar to Luna’s. “I never should’ve let him go!”
Lushara reached to put a comforting arm around the queen. “You didn’t know, Selene.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cried, and then bolted toward the door. “I can’t let this happen. I have to stop him.”
That spurred Psiarik into action, remembering all too well what would happen to her after Silvian in that dream, and he grabbed her arm to halt her. “No! You’re not going, Selene. You’ll die if you do, and I won’t lose you!”
“I have to go,” she argued, trying to wrench away. “I can’t lose him either. I can’t do nothing while my brother gets killed! Let me go!”
“I won’t stand by and watch you die!” Psiarik yelled back, holding onto her even more tightly.
“Let go of me!” Selene insisted.
Psiarik held his ground and yelled back. “No, you listen to me!”
“No!” the lunar queen howled. “Let me go now! You remember who’s in charge here, king-consort,” she raged, throwing the technical title of the ruler who merely marries into the family back at him to remind him of his status. “Don’t you make me pull rank and call guards. I’ll do it! Let go this instant, and that’s a royal order!”
Scowling, Psiarik dropped her arm. “You expect me to do the same thing you won’t, your highness, is that it? Don’t you think I love you just as much as you love Silvian?”
“I love you and my brother!” the teary Selene yelled back at him. “I have to do whatever I can to save him. Wouldn’t you have done the same for your sister if you could’ve?” She stormed toward the door, and paused. “I’m sorry, but I’m going, and that’s that!”
“Fine then, I’m going with you.”
Vultureman cawed in disbelief at the arguing royal couple. “I suppose that I’ll take over the Moons when the three of you and the Governor General get bumped off then, seeing as I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave Luna in charge, caw, lest it start a revolution.”
Luna let out an indignant squawk of her own at the Mutant’s remark, while Selene stepped into the doorway ahead of Psiarik, blocking him from going through, and turning around. “That won’t be necessary, Vultureman. Psiarik is staying here.”
“What?” the psi yelled in exasperation.
“While he could’ve phrased it better, Vultureman has a point. It’s our responsibility to make sure at least one of us is here to keep things from falling apart.”
Psiarik groaned. “Then let me go instead. You stay here where it’s safe.”
The queen remained firm. “No, and that’s a royal order too.” She pointed her finger up at him, a comical image from the viewpoint of a bystander considering that she was well over two feet shorter than he. “You’re staying, and I’m going after Silvian, and you’re not going to change my mind.”
Unwilling to concede, Psiarik stared Selene down and drew on what mesmerization abilities he knew. “No. You will not go, Selene. You will not follow Silvian. You will stay here and not risk your life.”
Alluro realized immediately what his son was trying, could tell that he was not trained at it, and knew without question that it was not going to work. Lunars were notoriously stubborn and often difficult to keep in a thrall even to a seasoned hypnotist; that and Amok’s total resistance to it was why he had not hypnotized Luna into taking a long walk off of Skytomb’s roof years ago. Others in the room realized what was going on as well, but they wisely stayed out of it, at least until seeing Selene’s reaction.
The thrall worked for a moment, but as Alluro had predicted, it wore off after lasting just long enough for Selene to realize what he had attempted. “How dare you!” she shrieked at Psiarik. “You lose an argument so you try to twist my mind to get your way?”
“Only because I love you too much to let you run off to your death!” the frustrated Psiarik replied.
Her pride and ego now bruised along with her ire up, Selene glowered furiously at her husband. “Controlling me isn’t love, not by any stretch. Don’t you ever try that again.” She reached up and smacked him hard, although as tall as he stood without slouching it connected most easily to his upper arm rather than the face she would have aimed at otherwise. Angry and desperate tears spilled down her cheeks, which combined with her outburst, led him to feel like a heel despite his conviction that he had not been out of line. “If you stop me from going and Silvian dies, I’ll never forgive you. Never!”
Realizing that the fight was lost either way, he stared down at her with a miserable look that matched hers. “Go on then, if it’s what you really want,” he said, his tone low and his heart heavy in his chest. “Obviously I can’t stop you, and nobody else will.” He glanced at the others who only watched the interchange in apprehensive silence. “Chase Silvian. I hope you can save him, that I’m wrong, and that you’ll both be back. But if you’re not—”
“We will be,” Selene asserted, and looked up at him meaningfully. “Thank you for understanding. I knew you would. I’ll keep you informed, and return… with Silvian.” She drew him into a hug and then left before he or anyone else could object.
With that emotional tempest finally over, Luna let out a beleaguered sigh. “Fool girl. You have to admire her determination, but she probably will get herself killed unless someone who knows what they’re doing goes along. Come on, Amok. Just because Psiarik isn’t supposed to go doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay.” She spurred her brute and turned toward RedEye, Alluro, Vultureman, and Lushara. “Coming along?”
RedEye nodded and joined Luna and Amok’s side, while Alluro shook his head, eyeing his distraught son with concern. “No Luna, I think I should stay here.”
Catching onto his meaning, Luna gave a quick nod. Lushara remained where she stood. “I’m staying too. If it’s going to hit the fan, more than Psiarik and Alluro will be needed to clean it up here.” She looked at the three Lunatacs ready to leave, her eyes lingering on RedEye. “Safe travels.”
“Vultureman?” Luna prompted the Mutant.
“Caw, I don’t think so,” the vulture retorted. “I’ve dealt with Mumm-Ra and the Thundercats more than enough for three lifetimes. I’ll sit this one out. If Silvian’s magic sword has as many tricks as Lion-O’s, he should be fine anyway.”
“All right then,” Luna said with a note of finality. She, Amok, and RedEye then departed in the same direction Selene had, and minutes later their ship—the only other royal vessel even remotely suited to such a mission—was bound for New Thundera.
***
Though the Thundercats were unaware of the trouble heading their way on two different fronts, the mood in the control room of Cat’s Lair was tense. WilyKit paced back and forth while Cheetara sat in one of the chairs and little Chet, now with his mother rather than Snarf, played nearby on the floor with some of his toys. “WilyKit, calm down. You’re a wreck,” Cheetara said to the younger Thundercat with concern.
“Why isn’t Kat back yet?” WilyKit worried. “He should’ve landed hours ago. I called Lynx-O and he told me when WilyKat left, and he’s beyond late now. I can’t get a hold of the Feliner’s communication systems. I’ve tried every channel and even a few tricks I know to tune in bad signals, but I got nothing. It’s like he’s ignoring all communications or something’s keeping them from reaching or locating him. Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Cheetara answered, perplexed. “You’re right, it’s not like him to ignore us.”
WilyKit’s frown deepened. “Which is why I can’t help but think something’s happened to him.” She fell silent for a moment, and then looked at Cheetara imploringly. “What do you think? I mean, have you had any hunches, any flashes, or anything like that with your sixth sense?”
“Nothing specific,” she said with a shake of her spotted mane, and then added, “although I did get a tingle of something a little while ago, but it was so nondescript that I brushed it off. That happens to me sometimes, and worrying about it only drives me crazy when it’s so vague.”
“Was it about WilyKat?” the female Thundercat twin pressed.
Cheetara shook her head again. “No. It was dark and vague. It made me think of Mumm-Ra, actually.” She shuddered involuntarily. “But we don’t have any reason to believe that he could be back. I’m sure the Eye of Thundera would’ve warned Lion-O, and if it had, he would’ve said something.”
The mention of Mumm-Ra only served to increase WilyKit’s anxiety. “If whatever it is isn’t something that can block that along with the Feliner’s communication systems.” She looked at the monitor and still saw no sign of any incoming crafts. “Mumm-Ra could do that, if he was still around… but that’s not likely,” she conceded uneasily.
“No, Mumm-Ra is…” Cheetara’s voice trailed off as the vague sense of something wrong tickled her senses once more, much like it had earlier, and most strongly when she spoke their old adversary’s name.
“What?” asked WilyKit, standing up and taking a few steps closer to the cheetah.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, and the intangible sensation grew stronger, morphing into something more sinister and, disturbingly, familiar. “I’m not so sure,” Cheetara said, her voice just above a whisper as she did her best to focus.
After casting a quick glance at Chet to make sure he was not unduly alarmed, WilyKit went to Cheetara’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Cheetara? Are you all right?”
The cheetah nodded, although the more she concentrated and the clearer the message from her sixth sense became, the less accurate her assertion was. The overwhelming sense of fear and despair surrounded her. She imagined a place that was dark and cold, and a distraught soul trapped and helpless in the grasp of an ancient and evil power. As her mind reached out to this soul in distress, she realized that this was no stranger suffering, but someone familiar and dear to her. Cheetara concentrated harder and saw a glimpse of his unconscious face… just as a powerful, violent, and dark psychic force slammed into her mind, blocking her out.
Cheetara reeled as though she had been struck in reality, and her eyes opened with a start as she realized what had happened. “WilyKat!”
“What happened? Where is he? Cheetara?” WilyKit’s worried questions came out in a rush.
She met the other Thundercat’s eyes with an equally anxious look. “I got a sense of someone suffering and surrounded by evil—an evil a lot like Mumm-Ra’s—and when I sought out who it was, I saw WilyKat.” She rose to her feet with a sense of urgency. “And then whatever is holding him must’ve noticed, because I was forced out. It was like a psionic shield made of dark energy.”
Chet looked up from where he was playing and stared at his mother and WilyKit. “Mumm-Ra,” he said, and then resumed pushing the ball he had in front of him on the floor as though it was an everyday word.
Cheetara and WilyKit exchanged looks, and Cheetara then went to her cub’s side. “What did you say?” she asked gently.
“Mumm-Ra,” Chet repeated. “Torlei.”
WilyKit gasped, while Cheetara’s eyes went wide in shock. Although Mumm-Ra’s name could have just been a simple repetition, as they had mentioned it in their conversation, the undead bride he had partnered with once on Third Earth had not been mentioned by any of them in years, before Chet had even been born. “How does he know who she is?” WilyKit asked, her stomach in knots as she imagined the worst. “I haven’t even given that Lunatac a thought in ages. She died back on Third Earth!”
Chet eyed them with a look far too somber for one so young, and then said, “Got Kat. Pyramid.”
Although she already suspected what the answer was—that her son had inherited her extrasensory abilities—Cheetara asked him anyway. “What made you say those things, sweetie?”
“Saw it Mommy,” Chet answered, a tremble in his plaintive little voice. “Bad. Scary.”
“Saw it where?” WilyKit asked, also kneeling beside him. “It’s very important.”
“Dark place.”
WilyKit closed her eyes as the child confirmed what she and Cheetara had both feared. “Mumm-Ra’s pyramid.”
“Pyramid,” repeated Chet.
“I have to help him!” WilyKit said, and before even the swift Cheetara could react to stop her, the female Thundercat twin was on her feet and on her way to get her weapons and save her brother.