Chapter Two: Premonitions
Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.
“Do you have to do that?” Mumm-Ra growled irritably at his partner in crime, his eyes blazing with unspent energy.
“I’ve nothing better to do,” Torlei replied indifferently, glancing at her ‘husband’ for a few more moments before continuing with her current task; using her telekinesis to throw pebbles into the cauldron.
Plink. Plink. Plunk.
“Ooo, that was a big one,” she muttered to herself, smirking simply with the knowledge that it was annoying the blazes out of Mumm-Ra.
From where he sat, the dark mage gritted his teeth, and did his best to immerse himself in the book he was currently reading.
Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.
He could take it no more. “Damn it, Torlei!” Mumm-Ra howled, slamming his book shut.
The undead Psi eyed him defiantly, and continued plinking rocks into the cauldron, but with more frequency.
Plink plink plink Plink PLUNK.
Seething, Mumm-Ra flinched with each new sound until he could barely stand it, but before he could spout the string of obscenities he had thought of, the entire pyramid shook with such force, that for a brief moment he was sure it was going to come down. Suddenly a tremendous thrumming echoed throughout the chamber. It was almost deafening, and anything that wasn’t nailed down began to rattle and crash to the floor.
When Mumm-Ra was sure the racket couldn’t get any louder, a voice so huge that it shook his very being boomed through the chamber.
“GOROTH NUG JHAHOOD.”
The earsplitting voice pierced through Torlei like dagger, and she let out a strangled cry as she fell to the floor, gripping her head in pain.
Mumm-Ra too cringed at the intrusion, and when he heard his partner cry out, scanned the area for her. He saw her curled up on the floor in a fetal position, her face twisted in a tortured expression. He didn’t have time to question it before he heard it again.
“GOROTH NUG JHAHOOD OGDRU SUG ABAL,” thundered the sonorous voice. At this, the cauldron waters roiled and Torlei screamed aloud in sheer agony. More out of curiosity than concern, Mumm-Ra went to her side. What was it that was causing her such pain? The voice?
Heaving with labored breath and wincing to dull the agonizing sensation, Torlei didn’t even notice Mumm-Ra’s presence as she clutched her head. It felt as though a giant hand was squeezing her mind, and it was all she could do to keep it from crushing her.
Mumm-Ra was frantic. What in the name of the Ancients was going on? What could have that sort of power, to bring an ever-living to this state? Then something sparked in his mind. Whatever the voice was saying, he realized that vaguely, he knew the language.
“OBDITH YUG JHAHOOD.”
“Stop!” Torlei howled, clawing at her ears.
Scowling with outrage, Mumm-Ra acted quickly, and ran to the cauldron and summoned a vision. In the roiling liquid, a huge comet was depicted. The mage frowned. A talking comet? That was the cause of all this?
It was then that it dawned on him, and as the ancient story of Goroth Nug Jhahood surfaced from the depths of his memory, and he paled. Knowing the power inherent in the apocalyptic creation, he knew that if he didn’t establish communication with Jhahood, it would tear Torlei’s mind apart. Doing his best to focus, Mumm-Ra closed his eyes and searched his immense memory for the incantation to link with the Planet Killer.
The mage’s ruby eyes snapped open, and he quickly intoned the incantation. Instantly the noise stopped. Mumm-Ra could hear Torlei sobbing in the background, freed now from the throes of her misery, but soon his mind was filled with Jhahood’s voice instead.
“I am the Planet Killer,” the comet said simply, it’s voice no longer unbearably loud, “Goroth Nug Jhahood.”
“I am Mumm-Ra, the Ever Living,” Mumm-Ra said, at a loss for words. What did one say to a sentient comet?
“Where am I?”
“In a system filled with ingrates,” muttered Mumm-Ra.
Jhahood rumbled for a moment. “I seek to destroy,” said Jhahood. Mumm-Ra started to formulate a reply, when he was struck with an incredible idea.
Meanwhile, Torlei slowly began to regain her composure. Jhahood’s mind, so old and immense, was so oppressive that he had been crushing her mind without even trying. His very thoughts were like psychic attacks, and she had barely come out in one piece. Her defenses had been down, not expecting such an influx of psychic energy, and it was at a level that it could debilitate even one that had gained immortality. She sought to get her bearings and warily eyed Mumm-Ra, deep in telepathic conversation with the force. She frowned, highly displeased by this turn of events. There were very few beings that could rival her power, let alone completely dwarf it. She eyed Mumm-Ra carefully, noticing that he appeared to be in some kind of trance. Had he stopped it somehow, she wondered? But how could he have stopped something so powerful?
Suddenly, Mumm-Ra’s eyes focused and he looked upon his bride with a foul grin.
“Torlei, I have a plan.”
* * *
“Does he have to stare at me like that?”
“Well, Majesty, I, uh...” Ratar-O’s aide stumbled over himself. Both of them were ill at ease with their unwelcome guest.
Ratar-O snorted and waved his aide away. “Perhaps you should take a picture, Tiberon!” the rat called to the High Councilman, whose luminous eyes were seemingly transfixed upon him.
“A picture could not do you justice,” the Nautilus said flatly.
Ratar-O narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure that he had been insulted, but the Nautilus had no readable facial expressions to speak of. High Councilman Tiberon looked like a man with an octopus stuck on his head, and that was a fact. All Nautilus did, although the octopus on the Councilman’s head looked particularly unpleasant. Doing his best to ignore the Squidman, Ratar-O made a hand movement, and summoned his concubines. He needed to relax.
Almost instantly, a guard escorted 5 females in. Ratar-O smiled broadly, but his smile faded quickly.
“Who’s she?” he asked angrily, pointing to an exceptionally sensual looking Reptilian. The guard shrugged, while the seductive reptile traced her curves with a delicate finger.
Normally, Ratar-O was repulsed by the Reptilians, but this one didn’t look half bad. She wasn’t heavily muscled, and she didn’t look slimy. He eyed her lecherously and decided to indulge some of his more exotic tastes this once.
“Never mind,” he said, waving out the escort guard, as well as the others in the chamber. All left, save the girls and the Nautilus. Ratar-O glared at him. Tiberon stayed a moment more, and then breezed out of the chamber.
“Proceed, ladies,” he said with a grin.
The new concubine proved to be very bold indeed, and she was quickly upon him, while the other girls played second fiddle. She was amazing! Massaging his chest, she started at his neck, alternately biting and kissing. He absently reminded himself to commend the Harem Master for producing such an excellent girl. Ratar-O let her take the drivers seat for a few more minutes, then grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. She gasped, and he smiled.
Breaking the will of new concubines was one of his favorite hobbies.
The other girls backed off. They knew what would come next; after all, it had happened to them as well. He forced her to the ground, and she only resisted slightly. Ratar-O kissed her roughly, and licked her jaw.
Suddenly his mouth was filled with blood. His eyes snapped open. The concubine had flared her scales and cut his tongue. He looked into her eyes, and instead of fear, he saw a cold, calculating gaze. A sharp pain pierced his belly and he gasped. The concubines screamed.
His blood flowed from the wound as she twisted the dagger and pulled it out.
“Y-you...!” he spluttered, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. The Reptilian pushed him away, and stood. Her entire persona had changed. She was no longer a soft, sensual concubine... she was a cold, sharp edged killer.
Tiberon, who Ratar-O was sure had left, appeared behind the female.
Things were getting dark for the rat leader. His blood poured over his fingers as he clutched at the wound. Betrayal! he thought furiously. How could something like this slip past his supposedly top-notch security? He regretted sending Krel, his bodyguard, on a recon mission. The twisted freak would’ve bought him some time.
Meanwhile the Nautilus leaned over the fallen rat, his face tentacles almost touching that of Ratar-O. “You are a foul creature, unfit to lead the people of this planet. May the gods curse you to eternal suffering.”
Ratar-O tried to retort, to do something, anything... but instead he coughed and went still, his lungs to full of blood to allow him to continue living.
From the corner, another of his concubines, a nubile and scantily clad rat, flinched and gasped.
Unnoticing, Tiberon turned to Bazungy, who had cleaned off Ratar-O’s blood onto her concubine outfit. She looked at him expectantly. “Now what?”
The Councilman merely put his hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, Bazungy found herself back at her home in Rendor. Her payment lay on a table.
“Oh,” she said softly.
Tiberon only offered the Nautilus version of a smile, a sad and resigned smile that echoed his thoughts. Ratar-O was eliminated, and it was time for the next step.
* * *
From his lazy position, reclining in the plush surroundings of his majestic estate, the former reptilian commander Slythe heard a knock on his door. He set his sludge-like beer, dark and fermented the way he preferred it, down on a heavy table and turned his head toward the door. “Enter, yesss?”
The door to his private chamber opened and, along with his dutiful doorman Komodor, stood a face he hadn’t seen in a very long time, and in fact, one that if he ever saw again, he felt would be too soon. “Jackalman! What brings your mangy canine hide to my private sssanctuary?”
The jackal frowned at his former commander’s disdain. During their time on Third Earth, it seemed to him that Slythe had forgotten they started out as equals. The burly reptilian assumed control of Castle Plundarr once they were stranded, and he had the most power to back him up. Once they’d escaped Way Out Back and returned to Plundarr, that status had been reaffirmed. Due to their failure to capture the Sword of Omens, it had been suggested that each of the renegade generals—himself, Slythe, Monkian, and Vultureman—retire, or face the consequences of being a general captured by a fool bounty hunter, supported by CONTROL and the Thunderians. Not surprisingly, each retired. Slythe had returned to his ancestral manor, for his family’s wealth could more than support him comfortably for the rest of his days. Monkian had taken to an alternate career of slave trading. Vultureman had left Plundarr altogether to work on the Third Moon with the Lunatac royalty in weapons testing and design. Jackalman, unwilling to lose all the glory and the favor of his fellow canines by leaving the military entirely, accepted a civilian position in internal affairs. Unlike the other mutants, he wanted to be kept abreast of new happenings. He felt that if he had time to convince Ratar-O that none of the mess on Third Earth was his fault, that he might one day be able to take back his position without fear of charges. He was confident that it could happen, until today. “I have some news that might interest you, Slythe,” the jackal informed him.
Slythe frowned. “And what could you possibly have to say that might be of interest to me, yess?”
“Ratar-O is dead.”
Slythe shifted noticeably, clearly more interested than he was letting on, and he met Jackalman’s eyes curiously. “Dead, you say? How?”
Jackalman smirked. He’d always enjoyed those brief moments where he could jerk Slythe around, and this was one of them. “Nyah, well the story would be better told if I had somewhere to sit down, and a cold drink to enjoy, don’t you think, Slythe?”
The surly reptilian frowned. “Fine,” he growled, and waved to Komodor. “Fetch our guesssst a chair and get him a drink. I assume you want some of that watered down whiskey that you canines favor?”
Jackalman stretched out comfortably in the seat offered to him by Komodor, and flashed the lizard a grin. “Nyah ha ha, actually these days I prefer Draconian vintages of wine, if you have any. Whiskey reminds me too much of that crude moonshine we drank during our days on Third Earth,” he said, giving Komodor a pointed look. The lizard servant nodded and left to fetch the jackal’s drink, while Jackalman returned his attention to Slythe. “And I’m sure you can understand why I’d rather not be reminded of those days,” he finished with a knowing smile.
“Yesss, I understand that perfectly,” Slythe rapsed humorlessly. “Which brings me to the question of why you bothered to come here to remind me of it? What do I care if that complacent rodent has met his end, unless there is something in it for me, yesss?”
“That’s just it,” Jackalman informed him. Komodor returned with his drink, and he lapped at the tart fluid for a moment before he set the drink down and continued. “If Ratar-O has been assassinated, there will soon be a struggle for power, and a chance to regain the military titles he took from us.”
“Surely Ratar-O has heirsss. One of them will take his throne.”
The jackal shook his head. “He never took noble-born mate for a bride, and although some of his concubines have born him pups, both were female, unsuitable for the throne.”
Slythe narrowed his eyes. “And what purpose does it ssserve you to come and tell me of this, if you want your jackal clan to try and assume power? Sssurely you know that if I make a move for the throne, it would be to put Plundarr under reptilian rule?”
At that megalomaniacal statement, Jackalman burst out laughing. “Nyah ha ha, your reptilians wouldn’t stand a chance against a horde of rats any more than the jackal clan would. No, I’m not foolish enough to assume we can take the throne—but if we play our cards right, we could wind up back in our old military positions, or higher, as one of the delegates working directly with the new ruler. A ruler, likely one young and naďve from some sheltered noble rat clan, that we can perhaps persuade to see and do things that would be advantageous to both our clans.”
The reptilian flared his nostrils and guzzled the remainder of his beer. “You are a backstabbing, underhanded coward, Jackalman. You have no scruples whatsoever, and your selfish ambition is shameless. It seems you have some redeeming traits as a mutant after all,” he finished with a chuckle.
Jackalman cackled. “So do we have a deal then, Slythe? A partnership of sorts?”
“I will work with you, yesss,” Slythe hissed back. “But this assssociation is to be kept secret. It would not do for a reptile of my ssstanding to be seen associating with the likes of you on a social manner.”
The jackal snorted indignantly. “Believe me, Slythe, the jackals would be no less pleased with my visit to you,” he retorted. “Nyah, and now that that’s cleared up, let’s talk business.”
* * *
Back on the Moons of Plundarr, Psiarik slept fitfully. He was dreaming.
In his dream, he stood on Plundarr. The Psi had never personally been to Plundarr, but in his dream he knew exactly where he was. He turned and saw what he recognized as the Royal Palace, only something was different about it... the walls were drenched in blood.
Sickened by the sight, he turned and looked upward. It was nighttime, but he could not see the stars. Something was blocking out the stars! As he watched, the massive form plowed through one of the moons as if it were nothing but a gnat.
“Goroth Nug Jhahood,” said a soft voice behind him. He turned, and was met by startling blue eyes... eyes that belonged to a pure white reptilian. She was very delicate, and her scales had a luminous silver sheen to them. The female gripped the Sword of Plundarr in her hands.
Suddenly, the already bizarre scene began to twist, the very landscape warping around him and the albino lizard. Before the both of them was an incredibly ornate blade. He tried to get a better look at it, but found that it was shifting constantly. The writhing sword made him physically ill, and he tried to look away.
“Psiarik! Wake up!”
The psychic sat up with a start, soaked in sweat. Selene laid her hands on him in concern and eyed him quizzically. “What’s wrong? Were you having a bad dream?”
“I’m not sure,” he said softly. The reptilian’s unusual pale eyes had stuck with him. “I haven’t had nightmares in some time… but this…”
Selene frowned. “Not the disasters again? You haven’t dreamt of that since the Battle of the Swords.”
The Psi shook his head. “No, not that. This was different. There was a comet, and a mutant, and a sword…”
There was a knock at the door, and Selene got up to open it with a sigh. Frostor stood before them, and he looked alarmed. “Frostor! What’s wrong?”
Frostor took a deep breath. He had obviously run a long distance to get the news to them.
“Ratar-O has been assassinated,” he said seriously.
Selene gasped, and put a hand to her mouth. She had no love for the Warrior King, but to hear that he had been assassinated was a shock. Psiarik stood behind her, but said nothing. Still reeling from the images of his nightmare, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Do they know who did it?” the Queen asked. She knew this could be bad. Given the recent dispute, the mutants could easily implicate the Lunatacs of violating their treaty, and considering all that had happened recently, that was not something she wanted to deal with.
Frostor shook his head, and cast a sidelong glance at Psiarik. “No, and thankfully, none of our delegates have been to Plundarr in cycles. It would be a stretch to blame us...” His voice trailed off as he noted the haunted look on the psychic’s face. “Psiarik? Are you all right?”
The Psi shook his head, and leaned on the doorjamb. “I... I had another dream,” he said grimly, looking up at the Governor General. Frostor somehow managed to pale, and he approached the younger Psi.
“What was it?”
Psiarik related the dream to him and Frostor’s brow furrowed. Nothing he had said reminded him of anything he had read of Lunatac prophecy. In fact, he was wondering if the Psi had been alerted to Ratar-O’s death somehow, on a subconscious or telepathic level. The first part seemed to attest to that fact, but the rest didn’t match at all. What struck Frostor as the strangest was the white reptilian. Although the Plundarrians were referred to as mutants, there was very little actual genetic mutation among them, so the thought of an albino was odd.
Not sure what to make of all this information as of yet, Frostor chose to keep any theories he had to himself for the time being. He turned toward Selene. “When does Ssysra leave?”
“At noon tomor—well, today now,” recalled Selene. The ice general nodded, bowed, and left without another word. Selene meanwhile sighed and lay back down onto her bed. Psiarik joined her, and the pair lay in silence for a while, both unable to sleep much. Things were becoming more and more complicated.
* * *
“Ratar-O was what?” exclaimed Pumyra, staring in disbelief at the VDU before her. She had no respect or love for Ratar-O, but to think that the crafty mutant had been outwitted in his own palace was staggering.
“Assassinated,” replied the contact. He shrugged, said goodbye, and killed the link.
Pumyra sat back in her chair in shock. Should she wake the others and tell them? Part of her, strangely, said no. Why honor the disgusting wretch? But another part of her reminded her that such news was, politically, very important. The mutants could start getting hostile.
The Thundercat stood, and dashed off to Lion-O and Cheetara’s chamber. Not to surprisingly, she found Cheetara awake, standing outside her room. The cheetah looked up at Pumyra when she approached.
“Cheetara,” she said tentatively, wondering if the cheetah would cut her off and finish her sentence. She didn’t. “Ratar-O has been assassinated.”
“I know,” Cheetara said weakly. Pumyra looked at her more closely. Her fur was plastered to her body with sweat, and her hands were shaking.
“What’s wrong?” worried Pumyra, touching her friend lightly on the shoulder.
The cheetah didn’t answer for a moment, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. “Ratar-O’s death was not the only thing I was alerted to,” she said softly, her usually powerful and confident voice shaky.
Pumyra began to feel uneasy. She didn’t fully understand how Cheetara’s sixth sense worked, but when it did, it was amazingly accurate... and Cheetara didn’t look pleased. “May I ask what you saw?” the puma inquired quietly.
Cheetara motioned for Pumyra to follow her, and the pair made their way to the kitchen. Cheetara set the coffeemaker to brew a fresh pot, while Pumyra seated herself on a stool by the counter. Cheetara wordlessly poured herself a cup, and one for the puma, and sat down. “A comet,” she stated finally.
“A comet?” Pumyra repeated.
The cheetah nodded. “Among other things.”
Pumyra was almost afraid to ask. “What other things?”
Cheetara took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she looked into her coffee and spoke, as if what she had saw was replaying itself in the dark liquid. “First, I saw Ratar-O murdered by a dark figure. The figure turned, and looked at me for a moment. I think it was a she, but before I could get a better look, she pointed out the window, and I had no choice but to turn. The sky was black... not even the stars shone... the comet was blocking out the sun and the stars.” She stopped for a moment, as if relating the vision was stressful. “Goroth Nug Jhahood,” she whispered, her hands shaking violently. The voice in her vision, that of the comet, had almost shattered her mind with its power.
Pumyra moved to her friend’s side, and put her hands on Cheetara’s shoulders. “You don’t have to go on if it disturbs you so much,” Pumyra said softly, trying to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. In reality, Pumyra was becoming more and more disturbed by her fellow Thundercat’s story.
The cheetah shook her head. “No, I can finish. I saw a sword... it was very strange, and it couldn’t seem to hold one shape. I... I think the sword was trying to tell me something, but the comet began to speak again, and I could stand the vision no longer.”
The two cats sat in silence, and Cheetara took a hefty swig of her coffee.
“We’ll have to consult the Book of Omens.”
“For some reason, I think this might be beyond the Book,” Cheetara said softly, swirling her coffee in the mug. “Beyond all of us.”
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