Inferno
by Felina 
 
Something unusual was happening on Third Earth.

To the inhabitants, it would not have seemed so. To them, things were normal, routine...

In the recently rebuilt village of the Berbils, the small robot bears tended their crops and kept wary watch on the sky for another Mutant attack. True, it had been a long time, but the habit died hard.

In the treetop kingdom of the Warrior Maidens, Queen Willa presented a fine new dagger to her champion, Kindis, who had once again taken the most points in the arrow-whip contest. A younger maiden, Tayasha, was heard to complain about favoritism, and was rewarded with three extra nights of guard duty as a result. All knew that the Queen did not show favoritism.

In the village of the Tabbots, the normal trading transactions occurred, with the usual blend of Wollos and Bolkins...as well as the occasional accusations of cheating and miserliness.

In the Forest of Unicorns, a unicorn foal wandered too far into the River of Despair to drink. The black Widow Shark, ever alert, attacked. The foal, nickering it’s panic, fled to the riverbank, with the shark in hot pursuit...only to be caught by a blast of rainbow light from the Unicorn Keepers’ diamond-tipped staff. Blinded, the shark sank back into the water to wait in frustration for the next opportunity. The foal, trembling, peered out from behind its keeper and regarded the River with widened eyes.

And in the mighty fortress, Cat’s Lair, the ThunderCats kept their vigilant watch over Third Earth. But for all their watchfulness, they had no idea of what unusual thing was happening.

Far away, in the ruins of an ancient temple built to a fire god of ages past, the strange event was happening. A visitor, approaching the place, would have seen rough, blackened stones crumbling to piles of powder. The steps leading into the building were worn and cracked. The walls, though still mostly intact, were clearly unstable.

Entering the temple ruin, this visitor would have seen a large, round room. Whatever might have once graced the walls had been long devoured by flames; all that remained was the huge blackened metal slab in the middle of the floor, covered with strange writing in picture-glyphs. An observant visitor would have noticed that the edges of the metal seal were welded to the floor. Closer observation would have revealed that from the brightness of the metal, the welding had been done far more recently than the decay of the temple implied.

The visitor might also have noticed that it was surprisingly warm, almost hot, inside the ruin.

Had the visitor stayed until nightfall, he or she would have noticed the first peculiarities; the temperature within the temple did not abate as the sun set. And there was a peculiar, unnatural glow seeping from beneath the thick metal seal.

Three days later, no visitor could have approached within fifty paces of the old temple; the heat could be seen radiating in rippling waves through the sultry air.

That same night, it happened. Could one have seen, it would have been a terrifying sight. The great metal seal was no longer a blackened slab; it glowed white hot, and in the center, it sagged noticeably. As time passed, the metal drooped further and further inwards... until it collapsed, plunging down into the depths of the pit. Instead of the expected darkness, one’s eyes would have blinded by the raging burst of red-white light that flared out of the gaping hole in the floor.

After about five minutes, the brilliant light faded to a dull reddish glow. The heat, however, seemed to intensify as the grass outside the tomb began to blacken and shrivel. Mere seconds later, the source and cause of the heat streaked out of the pit in the shape of a blazing ball of white flame. It landed about 10 feet from the edge of the pit and formed itself into a humanoid shape....if any humanoid could be made of white-hot fire. Flares of red, orange, yellow and wavery blue flame danced erratically across the surface of the fire-demon. In stark contrast, two black, oval shaped holes in the ‘head’ of the creature marked the place where eyes would have been.

The creature seemed to survey it’s surroundings....at least, the head turned about slowly, pausing at the black pit from which it had emerged. Red flame leapt for a moment, then subsided. The demon turned toward the crumbling door of the temple and lifted one arm as if in command. And, as though in response to the command, orange flames erupted from the ground. A long, wide road of fire seemed to pour itself across the night- darkened land, widening as it went. Again red fire leapt around the demon’s body, then subsided. It lowered it’s arm and began to drift languidly down the path it had made for itself.
 
Tayasha the Warrior Woman glared irritably across the dark forest. It was her final night of extended guard duty, her punishment for her indiscreet remark about her Queen. She was feeling the lack of sleep, and she was also feeling three days worth of smirks and sly glances and head-shakings from her sister warriors. She had appeared to ignore them, as was fitting, but they had left their marks on her pride. She was hoping rather feverently that the disapproval would cease once her punishment was over.

Tayasha knew she should have been more discreet. Of course Queen Willa had not favored Kindis; she favored no one, not even her blood-sister, Nayta. But the bitterness of losing the arrow-whip contest that she had trained and practiced so hard for had opened her mouth and said words she had not meant. Oh, she had apologized, of course, quickly and sincerely, frightened by the icy anger in Willa’s eyes. But the damage had been done.

A whisper of sound brought Tayasha’s head around sharply. Her replacement was approaching. The young maiden straightened and tried to make her expression neutral instead of cross. From the sardonic look on Mirita’s face, it didn’t work.

"Be grateful, young one. At least you aren’t male," the older woman said quietly as she paused near Tayasha. The maiden shuddered, glancing involuntarily over her shoulder at the single tree that held all of the fertile males of the warrior tribe. Males were as slaves. Worse than slaves. Had one of them made such a remark, that unfortunate would have died a painful death on the spot.

It had not always been so, Tayasha recalled. Once, the males had ruled the village. That had been ages ago, in a time of submission and obedience. But the males had lost their grip on their power and the females had seized it. Now it was the males who were submissive and the females who ruled. And ruled well, Tayasha thought proudly. Her glance caught the gaze of Mirita, who nodded, the same flicker of pride in her own eyes. Then she jerked her head towards the dwellings.

"Get your sleep, maid. And report to the Queen, come daybreak."

"As you command," Tayasha replied, trying to surpress a shiver at the thought of facing Willa. She turned to go, then paused. A stray scent on the cool breeze made her frown.

"Mirita... I smell smoke."

The older woman was instantly alert, turning her head to test the air. In the faint light from the lantern outside the nearest dwelling, Tayasha could see Mirita’s eyes widen. She understood why; living as they did in the treetops, fire was the greatest possible threat to their safety. Both women turned and strained their eyes in the direction of the smokey odor. Tayasha gasped at the sudden leaping light visible far away among the trees. Whirling, she raced to the giant gong hanging near the outlook post. Seizing the mallet, she pounded with all her might on the great disc.

"Fire! FIIIRRE!" she shouted as loudly as possible. "Wake, sisters! FIRE!"

The loud buzzt-ing of the control-room alarm echoed through the enormous fortress known as Cat’s Lair. As accustomed as the Thundercats were at being roused from sleep, there were still bleary eyes and stifled yawns as they congregated in the control-room. The only one who wasn’t yawning and bleary-eyed was Panthro, who was on watch duty.

"What’s wrong, Panthro?" Lion-O asked tensely, switching off the alarms to make himself heard.

"There’s no signal coming from the Treetop Kingdom’s transmitter," Panthro replied in a troubled tone, "and there’s no one replying. You know how they are about keeping a guard on at all times."

Tygra snorted. "If there’s no signal, it must mean the transmitter is broken," he pointed out impatiently. "Naturally they couldn’t respond."

"That’s the point," Panthro snapped. "I was there today and it was working fine! If it isn’t working now, it’s because it’s been disabled!"

"Schnarf, stop it, you two. This isn’t going to help," muttered a very sleepy Snarf.

Cheetara, moving with her usual grace even when only just awake, went quietly to the computer consul and focussed the screen on the sector in which the Treetop kingdom could be observed. She frowned; being late at night, it was hard to make out much detail, even with the acute vision of her race. But then, it didn’t take acute vision to see the reddish glow spreading across the horizon. A quick punch of the magnifier and the raging fire was visible. Cheetara was vaguely aware that the Cats behind her had fallen silent in shock. Then the control-room exploded into activity.

"Tygra, Cheetara, take the Feliner! Panthro, you and I’ll go in the tank. Snarf, kids, get a fix on the fire and patch it through to us! Let us know how fast it’s spreading and warn anyone in the path! Thundercats, let’s move!" Lion-O directed sharply. There was an answering shout of "HO!" and the Cats scattered.

Under more normal circumstances, Wilykit and Wilykat resented being left in the Lair to stand guard, no matter how necessary the chore might be.

But not this time.

Kit managed to keep a quaver out of her voice as she said to her brother, "This is bad! The fireline is more than 6 miles across...and it’s spreading fast!"

"I know, and from the readings I’m getting, it’s moving at least as fast as the Feliner!"

Kit’s head jerked up and she stared over at Kat. "But-!" she gasped. "But there’s barely any breeze! *How* could it-?"

"Magic," Snarf suggested grimly from his corner of the control room. Kit nodded silently and turned back to her screen, resisting the impulse to name the evil mage. One thing the Thundercats had learned; trouble came fast and furious on Third Earth, and while a fair portion of that might be the work of the Onyx Pyramid’s master, some of it was not. There were many unknown dangers and powers on this planet.

Besides, mentioning that name seemed to bring nothing but more trouble, and they already had as much of that as they could handle. Maybe, Kit thought fearfully, even more than they could handle...

"The Bolkin Village is surrounded by fire," she said tautly; "I’m notifying the others."

"Right. I’ll warn the Seafolk on the border...it’s heading their way," Kat replied.

Kit reached for the communicator with hands that trembled in spite of her effort to control them. "Lair to Tank, do you read?" Across the room, Wilykat spoke urgently into the comm-unit that linked the Lair to the oceanside village. Buttons clicked and machinery hummed as Snarf pulled up statistics and weather conditions. Wilykit turned her back on the two in order to concentrate on her task. "Lair calling Tank," she repeated anxiously.

"Tank here, go ahead," Lion-O’s voice returned. Kit relaxed a little. Speaking as calmly and clearly as she could, she informed the elder Cats of the situation.

"Blast!!" she heard Panthro say in the background. "Too rotted big to fight from the ground, Lion-O!"

"We’ll have to divide our forces," Lion-O said gravely. "Contact Cheetara and Tygra and have them get to the Bolkin Village on the double."

"Will do-" Kit broke off in horror at the sight before her on the screen.

"Kit? Kit! Wilykit, respond!"

"It’s gone, Lion-O..." the girl whispered, horrified. "The Bolkin village is...gone! There’s nothing but flames..."

"Transmit the message, Kit! Cheetara and Tygra can still help!"

"T-transmitting," Kit gasped. She was barely aware of her twin standing next to her, didn’t sense Snarf’s worried gaze Numbly, she followed orders, and several incredibly long minutes later, the Cubs saw the Feliner hovering above the place where the Bolkin Village had stood. It seemed unable to land, for after hovering in the area for a short time, it retreated.

"Who...who else?" Kit asked at last. Wilykat gave her a long look.

"No one," he said softly.

"But...the Wollos. The Unicorn Forest. The Hill Tribe, and the Berbils... They’re all in the path..."

"It got to the Wollos before it reached the Bolkins," Snarf said from his station. She turned to face him. He looking as weary and grim as she’d ever seen him. Older, he seemed, and very very tired. "And if the Treetop Village is in danger, the Unicorn Forest is already burning. I warned the Hill Tribe and the Berbils already."

Kit nodded slowly, and both of the kittens turned back to face the main monitor screen. They would all need to be aware of any changes in wind speed or direction; either would influence the path and intensity of the monstrous fire.

An hour passed, and then another. The trio watched, frightened and horrified, as the unnatural inferno swept its fiery destruction across the whole of the land. They warned their friends of each possible danger, of every shift of wind, every potential threat...and yet, it had all been in vain. They were not fast enough. And the people who had depended on the Thundercats for safety were dead.

Now the kittens sat together in the big chair before the main consule, Kit in the seat, Kat perched on the arm of the chair, watching the screen with dulled eyes and heavy hearts. Snarf had curled himself up on the windowsill, unable to bear the sight of the destruction. They had not spoken for a long time; there was nothing to say. Kit leaned against her brother’s side, something she had not done in years, something she did only when in desperate need of support. Kat’s arm was around his sister’s back in a forlorn attempt to soothe her; or perhaps merely for the hint of comfort that the contact gave him. So when Kat suddenly stiffened, Kit felt it immediately, and looked up at him.

"It’s coming this way now," Wilykat said quietly, feeling Kit’s sudden movement. Snarf looked over at them, then hopped down and came over to see for himself.

Kit gazed at the screen more intently, then slowly nodded. "You’re right." She reached for the comm-unit, and as she lifted it to speak, a bright ring of flame erupted from the forest across the moat. All three of them gasped in shock.

"We-we’re encircled..." Wilykit muttered shakily.

"Y-yeah. If we didn’t already know it was magical, that would sure give it away," Snarf replied. He was talking to distract himself from the icy fear that was clutching at him inside. The Feliner hadn’t been able to get to the remains of the Bolkin Village because of the fierce heat...how would he and the kittens survive, even in the Lair, if the heat was that intense? He exchanged a glance with Wilykat, and saw that the youth was very pale. But it was Kit who put the fear into words.

"Cheetara said the heat was too much for the Feliner to take." It was a simple statement, but she leaned up against her brother again after she said it.

"Well, there’s things we have going for us," Kat said stoutly. "Like, heat rises, so if we get down to the lower levels, it’ll be cooler. And we have fire foam, too. And we don’t have to chase it down, just wait ‘till it’s gone."

"True." Kit shook herself and stood quickly, then wrinkled her nose. "Pew. Smokey."

It was in fact getting rather smokey in the room. The screens showed great billows of smoke churning upwards from the blaze, sometimes so much that it was hard to see the flames.

"Yep. All the vegetation," Snarf agreed. "Let’s warn the others what we’re doing and get down to the lower level."

Kit nodded, and coughed as she reached for the comm-unit again. By the time she’d transmitted the message, smoke was visible in the room and all three of them were coughing hard.

"Okay, guys, do that...get out of the smoke," Lion-O’s voice crackled over the unit. "I’ll radio the Feliner, we’ll be there as fast as we can!"

Kit heard the reply, but it seemed to come from a long way away. The comm-unit slid out of her limp hand and clattered on the floor. She tried to get up from the chair, and succeeded, though her head spun and her vision darkened. She was so weak and dizzy, her head aching, her lungs burning. A step...and another. And then her legs gave out. Kit fell to her knees, then slowly collapsed in a heap on the warm floor.

Kat’s vision was growing blurry. He could see the door, but it seemed to dance and twist, to expand and contract, and then to disappear altogether. The clouds of smoke were growing thicker; he couldn’t see Kit. He stumbled forward, knowing she had to be nearby. They had to get out...but first he had to find her! And Snarf...where was he? It was so dark...so hard to see. Kat crashed to the floor, his chest heaving, and tried to crawl towards where he knew his sister must be. A touch of something warm and soft... it was her, and she wasn’t moving. He didn’t blame her, he thought dimly. He was so tired, and his chest hurt so badly... And then the darkness came down over him and the pain went away.

Snarf tugged futiley at the small forms he could see through the thickening smoke. He was not quite as affected as they were, yet, being lower to the ground, but he knew it was only a matter of time. But his efforts were no use...Kit and Kat were unconscious. Racked with coughs, he stopped trying to get the kittens up and made a dash for the door. He had to revive them somehow, and fast, and Tygra’s lab seemed to offer the only hope of doing this. But even before he reached the doorway, he was no longer dashing, but plodding. ‘Gotta keep going...gotta...’ He pressed the button that opened the door, only to be greeted by fresh waves of smoke that boiled through the opening. Blinded, dazed, and in pain, Snarf only managed a few steps before the darkness at the edge of his vision swept across his mind and carried him away.

Lion-O frowned at the comm-unit in his hand. There had been no reply from Kit, and she had sounded bad. He turned his head and his eyes met Panthro’s. There was no need to speak. Panthro put the tank into a tight, screeching 180-degree turn and they roared back along the charred ground towards the Lair, leaving a vast cloud of ash behind them.

"Tank calling Feliner!"

"Feliner here," Cheetara’s voice said wearily. "We’re heading back to the Lair, Lion-O, we’re almost out of fire-foam." *Not that it did any good* hung unspoken in the air.

"We’re headed back, too...Kit just told me that the Lair’s been surrounded by fire. More magic at work, it seems." Lion-O clenched his fist in helpless anger at the thought. He took a deep breath and continued as calmly as he could, "We’ll see you back there."

Cheetara acknowledged, and signed off, leaving Lion-O and Panthro in a brooding, heavy silence that lasted all the way to the Lair.

Deep in the desert, many miles from the plains and forests near the Cat’s Lair, stood the Onyx Pyramid. It was a massive, dark structure that seemed, not to have been built, but to have been dropped there from some otherworldly dimension. The four obelisks set at the corners of the base crackled with unholy lightning, a sign that the denizen within was awake and active. Lowering clouds gave a sticky, humid feel to the air, but there was no sound at all of thunder, and not a hint of rain. But then, there never was.

The Master of the Onyx Pyramid, clad in his tattered robe of black, gazed into his bubbling cauldron. Mumm-Ra disliked being dragged from his much-needed rest for any but the most compelling reasons; but this, he admitted to himself, was one. The blaze that had spread so far and so fast and taken so many lives could not be anything but sorcery, and it was of a type that he recognized. It was not that he troubled himself over the deaths; all creatures died, some sooner than others...except, of course, himself. As long as evil existed, Mumm-Ra lived...which was why the Thundercats had to die. The ancient mage snarled silently at the thought. Their accursed Code would snuff evil like a candle, at least for a time, and without the evil, he himself would wither away. His own mighty masters would be powerless, too. To be sure, new evil would arise, but it would be *new*. Mumm-Ra himself would no longer exist. The thought was intolerable. The Thundercats must die. And they would.

But this new thing, this fire-magic. This was unexpected, unlooked for, and he did not trust it. Nor did he care for the devastation left behind; this was *his* planet, to mar as he chose, and he had not yet chosen to obliterate it. This massive fire could only be a challenge, a test. Who, he asked himself soundlessly, gazing unmoving at the scenes that the cauldron showed him. Who held such power? There had been several servants of fire that his memory could recall... Pyron the dragon had been one. And the warped thing called Mongor, the demon of terror and flame...Mumm-Ra frowned, the expression creating a web of wrinkles across his parchmentlike skin. Mongor...had not been so powerful, and he had been defeated and confined. Twice, in fact, and the mage allowed himself to feel contempt for the inadvertent freeing of the creature by the curious Thundercat brats.

At the thought of the Thundercats, the pool, attuned to it’s master’s thoughts, showed Mumm-Ra what the ‘Kittens were doing. At the sight, the mage’s fleshless lips curled in a brief smile. The smoky blaze had surrounded the Lair; the kittens were lying on the floor of the control room, unmoving. The elders, in their vehicles, were speeding back to the Lair to help, but Mumm-Ra knew the help would be far too late. This, he thought, throws a new twist on things. Perhaps this is not a challenge. Perhaps it is an offer of alliance... His grin grew wider as he watched the Cats, faces covered in breathing masks, enter the Lair. And a faint, dry chuckle escaped him at the sight of the Thundercats’ reaction to the sight of the dead little ones. "How profoundly touching," he whispered, and the whisper echoed under the vast dark hall.

"No..." It was a hoarse whisper from behind a breathing mask, but the anguish in the speaker’s heart could clearly be heard.

"Lion-O..." Tygra didn’t know what to say. He tried to fight down his own wave of grief, knowing that there would be time for that later. He could see the terrible guilt in his leader’s eyes, though, and longed for something, anything, that might ease it.

Lion-O and his remaining people were standing in the smoke-filled control room. The Leader was gently holding the stiffened body of Wilykit; Panthro had lifted Wilykat and had not met anyone’s gaze since they’d entered the room. Cheetara had turned away, head bowed, and begun working with the computer as though it would save her sanity.

"My fault," Tygra heard his leader murmur. "Shouldn’t’ve..." the rest was lost at Cheetara’s choked cry. He turned, almost grateful for the distraction, then stared in horror at the savage blue flames that were leaping up from the very stone outside the Lair.

Lion-O and Panthro had turned as well, and for a brief moment, grief and guilt were pushed aside.

"We’d better take...the kittens..to their room," Lion-O said quietly, "and then think about how we are gonna get out of this!"

Panthro nodded once, still not looking up, and turned on his heel to leave the room. Lion-O followed. Cheetara watched them go, then turned to Tygra. "I...I wonder...if Snarf escaped somehow..." Tygra came quickly to her side and took her shoulders in his hands.

"Cheetara," he started, then stopped at a cry from the hallway. Cheetara moaned.

"I...guess...not," she whispered. Tygra could hardly hear her through the mask. Then she leaned against him for a few moments. This was unexpected, but hardly unwelcome, and the male Cat savored it for a moment. Then, with reluctance, he gently pulled away.

"We’d better get moving on this," he told her. Cheetara nodded silently and returned to the computer consule.

"The temperature is rising," she remarked in an unsteady voice. She didn’t have to tell Tygra; he could already feel the heat increasing. He nodded just as Lion-O and Panthro re-entered the room.

"Getting hotter in here," Panthro remarked in a neutral tone. Neither Tygra or Cheetara said a word about the cry they’d heard. There was no need.

"Yes, the temperature is rising steadily," Cheetara answered Panthro. Her voice was now calm. "The question is, do we fight it from in here, or do we get out of here and try from the outside?"

"If we leave, we risk running out of fire foam," Tygra pointed out. "And we built well; it will get hot in here, but it shouldn’t get that hot. Fast as it’s been spreading..." he paused, not sure what more to say.

"But it’s not natural," Panthro pointed out. "And it was hot enough to singe the Feliner; you know you couldn’t get very close to the main blaze."

"True, Panthro, but we were above it at the time," Cheetara responded.

Lion-O had been gazing at the screens, silent as his friends turned the problem over. There wasn’t much choice, he realized. If they left, they’d be leaving their only shelter, the only source of fuel and water and food. The vehicles’ fuel and firefighting equipment was nearly spent. True, the vehicles offered the chance of escape, should the fire overwhelm them...

"Panthro, fuel up the vehicles and restock them," the Leader directed, and the other three fell silent. "We can probably fight it from in here, but we need to be prepared to leave if necessary. It isn’t a normal fire, and we will have to be ready for anything." At last he turned to face his friends, and behind the mask, his eyes were very serious. Panthro nodded and left the control room without a word. Tygra and Cheetara waited for directions.

"Let’s try damping it down," Lion-O said, and the battle began.

For over three hours, the Thundercats tried every trick, every tactic, everything at all that they could think of to break the ring of shimmering blue fire that surrounded their home. And for three hours the flames continued to dance mockingly without, taunting them with their failure.

The smoke had diminished somewhat, but not to where they could remove their masks, and this was an annoyance to them all. The temperature continued to rise, slowly but steadily, and the cooling system was laboring under the strain. The Cats had taken to shutting the system down for a while, then restarting it, although it took more power than running it constantly. Had they not, though, the cooling system would’ve been, in Panthro’s grim phrase, "totally shot."

"I am not sure," Tygra said at length to his leader, "but I think it’s beginning to fade out!"

"Then how come the heat is still rising?" Cheetara asked rather sharply from her monitor.

Tygra frowned, but kept his voice calm. "Well, come and have a look," he suggested. Cheetara and Lion-O both approached the viewscreen and gazed out hopefully. Lion-O noticed, in passing, that the sun was at noon. Then he focused on the flames.

At first it seemed that Tygra was correct. There was a great deal less of the violent blue fire to be seen. But the longer he looked, the more the scene seemed to shiver and waver. Rippling waves of heat distorted the air. Then he understood what was happening. Lion-O pulled his gaze away from the screen and looked at his friends. As he did, the cooling system shut down in mid whir. Cheetara and Tygra looked up, startled. Panthro entered the room a few seconds later.

"It’s no good, Lion-O. It’s done more than it was designed for...it just wasn’t meant to take this heat," the big Cat said wearily.

Lion-O nodded once, then tilted his head towards the view on the screen. Panthro looked at it, but did not react for a long time.

"The fire isn’t dying," Lion-O said at last. "It’s intensifying, turning white-hot. We just can’t see it as well." He paused to gather energy...the heat was sapping them all, especially after getting very little sleep the night before. And it wasn’t easy to say what he was about to say. "I think we’d better prepare to leave. We can’t stay here much longer."

"Lion-O, do you think the Sword...?" Cheetara began in a tentative tone. Lion-O looked at her for a moment. Her face was mostly hidden by the mask that protected her from the smoke, but her golden eyes were full of sorrow and weariness. He looked at Panthro and Tygra, and saw the same weary sadness there.

"The Sword," he repeated after a moment. "I don’t know, Cheetara. It didn’t warn me when the kittens and Snarf..." he paused, not wanting to finish the sentence. "But it’s worth a try. It might at least disrupt the magic." Without another word, he drew the Sword of Omens from the Claw-Shield and held the weapon up. It was warm to the touch, he noticed; the temperature was still rising. Then he noticed something else. Normally when he drew the Sword, the Eye of Thundera opened. Now it lay quiescent in the hilt, silent and dark.

"Something is wrong," Lion-O muttered. "Sword of Omens, Awaken," he commanded, but there was no response. "We can figure this out later," he said, suddenly worried, and jammed the blade back into the Claw. "We had better get out of here, quick." The other Cats nodded in agreement, and moved hastily towards the door. It was very unnerving to be without the protection of the Sword, although it had certainly done nothing towards protecting them earlier. All of them wondered at it, and all of them privately concluded that the same being responsible for the unnatural blaze must be somehow blocking the mystic Weapon’s abilities.

They would never know it, but they were correct.

Unaware of the passing hours, the master of the Onyx Pyramid gazed expressionlessly into his bubbling cauldron. The Thundercats, his enemies, were in dire straits, but the sight and the thought did not bring him the expected feeling of triumph. The reason was that the ‘Cats had been relegated to mere annoyances by the coming of this fire magic. This magic was a threat. A serious threat.

The cauldron showed a smoking wasteland. Hours ago, that barren place had been the swamp where the Mutants, Mumm-Ra’s pitiful allies, had built their ugly, gargoyle- shaped fortress. Mumm-Ra sneered, recalling how he had shaken his head in disgust at the warped thing. Obviously the fools had mistaken ugliness for evil. They didn’t realize that the outer form hardly mattered, that it was that which was within which counted. He had taxed them on the subject once, and recieved a tail-twitch (as Slythe’s version of a shrug) in response. Vultureman and Monkian had been equally indifferent. Only a sly gleam in Jackalman’s eye had made the ancient mage wonder, later, if the canine Mutant’s cowardly behaviour was nothing more than a clever act.

Not that it mattered now, Mumm-Ra thought, not lifting his gaze from the pool. The eyesore of a castle was gone, along with its inhabitants. And along with the swamp. Now a ghostly wind swirled bits of ash and cinders before it, scouring the charred ground. Again, it was not the destruction that troubled him, it was the incredible power involved. Mumm-Ra knew much of spells and power. He knew well that even with all the power he could summon from his Masters, he could not have generated a blaze that would evaporate the swamp and reduce it to ashes in mere minutes. And this had occurred even as the blue flames surrounding the Cats Lair had gone from blue to white-hot.

"Such power," the mage murmured in his cracked voice. "And the creature even manages to conceal itself from me. I have not caught so much as a glimpse of it. Hmmm." Suddenly, a thread of alarm coiled down the mummy’s back, a feeling he had not had in aeons. The view of the pool showed tendrils of fire snaking across the desert, coming in the direction of the Pyramid.

"So...it comes here." Moving slowly, the ancient mage prostrated himself before the pool. He was actually trembling as he did, for it was most seldom that he called directly upon his evil masters. But he knew he had no choice now. "Oh, Mighty Masters, hear the voice of your humble servant..."

"We hear you, slave. Speak." The multi-voices reberverated through the darkness.

"O my Masters, what is this fire-magic that ravages the planet you have given to me? Who has the power to do such a thing?"

"It is no concern of yours, slave," the voices replied. "Know only that it is done with our will and knowledge. We gave you this planet to destroy, withered mage, and you have failed most miserably. Thus, we shall see it done by this more obediant servant of ours."

It was the answer that the evil priest had dreaded. He clenched himself and asked weakly, "Masters...am I to be punished?" He had to ask; they would not tell him if he did not. Yet to ask questions could bring dire punishment for being insolent, or stupid, depending on the whimsical moods of the spirits. It was, he thought grimly, a no-win situation.

"You have served us well in the past, mage. Your punishment for this failure will be light. But do not presume to think that we will relent a second time!" The voices paused a moment. "Rise, slave, and enter the teleportation chamber. We will transport you." The echoes faded away.

Mumm-Ra rose to his feet. For a moment he could have sworn he still had a heart; he could almost feel it pounding rapidly inside him. But that was a foolish fancy. Still, it was no light matter, calling on the ancients. He knew he was fortunate was to be spared the eternal torture of the Pit of the Dammed, the place of total sensory deprivation. Compared with that, all punishments were light.

Taking a last look into his cauldron, Mumm-Ra saw the flames surround his pyramid as they had surrounded the cursed Lair. Then he turned his back and slowly entered the secret chamber behind his sarcophogus.

"I am ready, Masters."

Before he had finished speaking, he felt the internal wrench of strong magic and the whirling of teleportation.

Outside, the flames suddenly encircled a bare patch of desert. Pyramid, obelisks and roiling clouds disappeared without a trace.

"What’s the matter?" Cheetara asked wearily as the four Cats reached the door. The half-hidden scowl on Panthro’s face told her that *something* was wrong.

"The door...stuck shut," Panthro growled, hauling fiercely at it. Then he yanked his hands away and shook them, muttering to himself. "Too blasted hot to get a grip on," he added after a moment.

"Let me try." Lion-O jammed his hand into the claw-shield and applied pressure to the door. Reluctantly, it slid open. "Let’s...go..." Lion-O’s voice was very tired, but he led the way through the door without pausing.

By the time the Cats reached the third jammed door, they had to stop. The heat was too intense; the door actually buckled under the pressure that Lion-O applied to it. Great gashes appeared in the metal where the tips of the claw gouged it.

"It’s softening, starting to melt," Tygra said slowly. The heat was making him dizzy, and he wasn’t sure he’d make it to the lower level. "We can’t go down there, and live. The farther towards the outside we get, the worse it’ll be."

Panthro turned to look at his friend, and nodded wordlessly. All the Cats were reeling, kept upright only because they dared not lean against the walls. They were shifting their weight from one foot to the other as well, unable to keep either foot on the scalding floor for more than a few seconds.

"Then, how... how are we going to..." Cheetara trailed off before she could ask. They weren’t *going* to get out. She shifted her weight again, and said softly, "Maybe we should go back to the Control Room. Even if we could get down there, we’d have to get past the wall of fire."

Tygra nodded slowly. "The Control Room is well insulated." He didn’t add, ‘Not that well, though.’ They all knew that. He looked at Lion-O, who nodded once, briefly, and they all turned and made their weary way back up the circuit. None of them said what all of them knew; they had reached the end, and it would be a terrible one. But they were Thundercats; they would face their fate.

There was, as expected, no relief in the Control Room. There were the chairs, but these were too hot to sit in for long. They couldn’t stand long on the searing floor. They couldn’t lean against the furnace-like walls. So they paced, each to his or her own little circle, each moving more and more slowly as their strength ebbed over the endless hours. Their faces, behind the masks, grew gaunt and weary. Their fur grew dull and their skin reddened. Their perspiration evaporated without cooling them, and they rapidly became dehydrated. Still they paced, their footgear scorching, the flesh of their feet blistering.

When the moniter screen cracked from the heat, there was nothing to be done. When the terminals caught fire, there was no way to put it out. When the very chairs went up in flames, spewing clouds af acrid smoke, there was no relieving it. And when at last the ceiling of the Lair melted, oozing down the walls and burying the Thundercats in molten metal, there was nothing they could do but scream.

From his place of punishment in the ancient spirits dimension, the ancient mage known as Mumm-Ra gazed silently at the night sky. His eyes were fixed on the planet known as Third Earth. Once, it had shone green and blue in the depths of space. Now, it glowed white, like a small star. The sight filled him with anger, for it had been his once, and was no longer. Within his depths, he vowed to find the demon who had destroyed it and exact revenge. The one thought that consoled him was that at last his enemies had perished.

End.

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