Chapter 33 of Signal in the Sky
The Slim
By Purrsia Kat & Spaced Angel
It was night when he awoke. Lion-O opened his eyes to a starless sky,
hung heavy with clouds that blotted out all but the faintest trace of
moonlight. There was drizzle in the air, coating the rocks around him with a
thin film of water that made them glisten in what little light there was.
How so much different from several hours before. He had been following
Grune across a rocky terrain, he remembered that much. Grune was up to
something, and Lion-O had been determined to find out what. One of Lion-O’s theories
was that Grune had also heard the signal from the New Thundera, and if so, must
be stopped from executing whatever sinister plot he were sure Grune would
devise. In the days since he’d noticed Grune’s presence again, the Mutant issue
took a back seat. And like the Mutants, Lion-O had a plan for how to deal with
Grune in a way that would get him out of their hair once and for all. A plan
that was best, he felt, executed alone.
But after that, or how he had managed to end up on his back amongst
these sharp-edged rocks was a blank. Above him rose a cliff, several hundred
feet high and darkly sleek now with the rain that dripped down from its craggy
surface. Had he fallen, he wondered? No, it was impossible to survive a fall
like that. He’d have caught himself with the claw line, had he come over the
edge. However, that would explain his survival but not his loss of memory and
time. Clearly he’d been unconsciousness for some time for it had been daylight
when he’d set out after Grune. Now, it was night.
Looking around, he did notice that this was the perfect place for an
ambush. Sizeable boulders littered the terrain, any of which could provide a
suitable hiding place for his foe. If so, he had to assume he had wandered
straight into a trap. Perhaps he and Grune had come to blows. Perhaps he had
tripped and knocked himself out. Perhaps Grune had hit him. Either way, he was
glad that Grune had not stayed around to finish the job. That in itself didn’t
make much sense. Grune had never given up on his ambition to see the Lord of
the Thundercats dead and Lion-O knew the rogue Thunderian would not be kind if
ever he had Lion-O in a compromising position again. If he had been helpless,
someone was clearly looking out for him to have spared his life. Then again, perhaps
Grune had thought he was already dead.
Nothing remained to confirm this theory one way or another, and Lion-O
supposed it was a moot point now anyway. Getting up made his head spin and he
felt unusually light on his feet. He reached for the support of the cliff wall
as his body rebelled against its upright position and waited for the dizziness
to pass. By the time it had, the moon had broken from behind a cloud, casting a
poor glow on his surroundings. Even illuminated, he could still not picture what
had transpired here. The only thing that could show him for certain was the
Sight beyond Sight powers of the Sword of Omens.
He reached for it and his grasping hand found only air. Glancing down,
he saw that both it and Claw Shield were gone. Frantically, he cast about for
the Sword and, failing to see it, called it to his hand. He stood there, arm
idiotically stretched out for something that was clearly not coming. As his arm
fell back by his side, his feeling of confusion deepened. Whatever had happened
here had seen him left for dead and the Sword of Omens taken from him. It was
afternoon then and, judging from the cold that had pervaded his whole body,
night had crept in several hours ago. So where were his friends, the other
Thundercats? He could not believe that his disappearance had not been noticed
by someone; surely not by now.
His sense of abandonment soon passed as he remembered the reason he was
here by himself in the first place. There had been a festival at the Berbil
village and he had volunteered to remain in the Lair on watch. He remembered
the others protesting that his presence was required.
It had been his plan all along to tail Grune alone, in hopes the crafty
devil wouldn’t realize he was being tailed. Cheetara’s reaction during the last
Council Meeting told him the others likely wouldn’t like what he had planned
anyway, so it was, Lion-O reasoned, for the best. Grune would be brought to
justice once and for all, Lion-O possessing the element of surprise by pursuing
Grune instead of the other way around. Grune would be exiled again for his
crimes against Third Earthlings, just as he’d been exiled before, and one of
their problems standing in the way of going home would be solved. Grune
presented a bigger threat and so it was Grune that would be dealt with before
the Mutants. The others would see that he was capable and reasonable, and
hopefully would no longer question his plan for Slithe’s crew.
The long-range scanners had given him a fair idea of where Grune would
be. Unlike his Mutant allies, he did not linger in Castle Plun-darr, but
wandered the less attractive regions of Third Earth like a lost soul, seeking
for what Lion-O could not guess. But odds were it was not good, and Lion-O had
long grown tired of Grune’s single-minded pursuits. It would end between them
this day, one way or another.
Not that he had been much interested in Grune’s reasons beforehand,
until Lion-O thought his sudden activity might be indicative of a need to do
something to thwart New Thundera, or at least, the Thundercats’ efforts to go
home. The Mutants weren’t going to stop them, and Lion-O wouldn’t let a rogue,
former Thundercat do so either. Back when Tygra had announced the detection of
the signal from ‘New’ Thundera, he had meant what he said. He wanted to go
home. No one had been successful in finding a way to circumvent the Mutant
problem and his frustrations had increasingly grown until he was able to
rationalise capturing them and sending them back to whatever punishment awaited
them on Plun-Darr as an only option. What else was there to do? They could not
leave the Mutants on Third Earth, nor could they risk them following the
Thundercats to Thundera. While Lion-O was not quite ready to countenance
actually killing any of them himself, he found that he cared little what fate
awaited them at the hands of their own people. Snarf also had a point in noting
Grune, too, needed to be dealt with and since he had resurfaced, there was no
time like the present to make him face justice once and for all.
That, then, was the reason he was here. Sad to say, however, that his
plan clearly had been unsuccessful. Grune had evaded capture and taken the
Sword of Omens. Getting it back would mean telling the others of his deception
and involving them in a rescue mission. It was not a prospect he relished,
though he knew it could have turned out much worse. At least he had his life.
He could imagine what they would say about how he had ended up in this
mess. Cheetara had made her feelings clear on the subject of his grandstanding
and Lion-O doubted that she was the only member of the Lair to feel that way.
However he tried to explain this little venture away, he was sure the others
would be less than impressed. Part of being a leader meant owning up to one’s
mistakes, so with a deep breath, Lion-O figured he ought to work toward facing
up to his most recent one.
As the world in general seemed unaware of his plight, a long journey
home on foot awaited. His friends had to be worried, and might even be out
searching for him if the festival was over or anyone checked up on the Lair.
Lion-O felt guilty for causing them the worry he assumed was consuming them,
and he hoped they’d be so relieved to see him in one piece that they might not
be as angry with him as he had but a moment before feared. First, though, was
the arduous climb up the face of the cliff without aid of his claw line.
After much effort and grunting, along with very careful foot placements,
he pulled himself up to the top, all the while wary that Grune may still be
lying in wait. He took a moment to recover from his efforts and assured himself
that nobody was lurking in the shadows. Logically, Grune wouldn’t wait for him
to awake to jump him – any sense of honor Grune may have once had evaporated as
the years wore on without success in taking Lion-O’s life. No, if Grune had had
the chance, Lion-O wouldn’t be living to regret it. Somehow, he’d gotten the
Sword but couldn’t finish the job. That was the only logical explanation.
His head had cleared, although the chill remained in his bones. Strange
though that, while he felt it, his body had yet to register the cold by
shivering. His skin was icy to the touch and yet his teeth did not chatter. He toyed
briefly with the possibility that he was suffering from hypothermia, quickly
dismissing it when he realised that he would never have woken up again, let
alone made it to his feet if that were the case.
Whatever the reason, the exercise of the long trek home would certainly
warm him up. He ignored the nagging voice of logic that told him the climb up
should have already done that, all the while trying to choose the right words
to explain himself to his friends as a preferred distraction. By the time the
Lair appeared, he was pretty sure what to say. Although the Code of Thundera
upheld truth as a virtue, it said nothing about lying through omission. The
sensors had detected Grune, he would say. That was true. He had wondered what
he was doing in such a remote part of Third Earth. Again, that came quite close
to the truth. He had followed and somehow lost the Sword. There was truth
enough in that story to satisfy the most curious of minds. No need to mention
his other reasons; that would only complicate matters, though he shrugged off
another voice of conscience that reminded him he should be owning up to his
mistake instead of dancing around it. It’s just that, he felt so foolish.
Surely details could wait until after he’d rested and a plan was formed to get
the Sword back.
Finally on home soil just daylight pierced its way through the gray
overcast sky to herald the dawn of another day, he found the drawbridge fully
extended and the Paw lifted where the ThunderTank was housed. The other
Thundercats were definitely home and no doubt waiting for an explanation.
Wandering into the hangar, he prepared himself for the worst. Instead, he heard
a curse and ducked just in time as a spanner flew across the room, missing his
head by inches.
It did not bode well. Panthro was not in a good mood. He hoped the
spanner had not been meant for him, although knowing Panthro, that was mild.
Taking a deep breath, Lion-O sought him out and found him fiddling with
something inside an open panel in the ThunderTank’s rear.
Lion-O waited at a respectful distance for Panthro to acknowledge his
presence. After several minutes passed without a reaction, Lion-O cleared his
throat and tried to be as contrite as possible.
“Panthro,” Lion-O began. “About what happened earlier. I guess you know
and you’re angry.”
“Damn fool!” Panthro muttered. His head emerged from the panel and he
took a step back from his work. “Why, Lion-O? Why!”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.” It didn’t escape Lion-O that
Panthro couldn’t even bear to look at him. This wasn’t going to be as easy to
smooth over as he’d thought.
“Why didn’t you tell us what you were planning? Why did you let us find
out like this!” In his anger, he struck the open panel. It broke away from its
hinges and clattered to the floor. “Of all the dumb, arrogant, ignorant,
pig-headed… gah!”
His hands were shaking as he bent to retrieve a dropped tool.
“Panthro, I’m sorry,” Lion-O said, taken aback by the panther’s display
of emotion. It was powerful, even for Panthro. But Lion-O supposed he deserved
as much, and he was right. “You’re right. I should have told you.”
“Why did it have to happen to him? He was just a boy,” Panthro was
saying. “Just a damn stupid boy.”
There was an edge to his voice that Lion-O had never heard before. When
he looked more closely, he saw the unmistakeable sparkle of a tear making its
way down Panthro’s face. A chill colder than that already in his body settled
over his soul as he realised Panthro had slipped from present to past tense.
“By Jaga, Panthro, what’s happened?”
“Why did you do it, Lion-O?” Panthro went on. His depth of emotion was
evident when he buried his face in his hand and scrubbed away the stray tear.
“I tried,” he whispered. “I thought I’d taught you everything you’d need to
know and then you go and do this. Thought you’d learned not to dash off like
that. Damn fool!”
The reference to teaching gave Lion-O all the clues he needed. WilyKat
had become Panthro’s shadow, soaking up every piece of information he had to offer.
Wherever Panthro was, it was usual to find WilyKat close behind. If the
ThunderTank was Panthro’s baby, then WilyKat had become a kind of foster
parent. That he was not anywhere to be seen now boded ill.
Lion-O was sure now that something had happened to WilyKat. Panthro had
hinted at Lion-O being responsible for it. He racked his brains for any reason
why that might be until the ghost of a memory floated back to him. WilyKat’s
face loomed large in an incident that had happened a few days ago. He had been
out alone, trying to get a locator fix on where Grune’s wanderings took him,
when he become convinced he was being followed. He had hidden and waited.
WilyKat had stumbled into his trap and his face had been a picture of guilt as
he had tried to come up with a plausible explanation for what he was doing. Out
for a walk was the best he could manage, a likely tale that Lion-O had not
believed in the slightest. No one went for a walk with their face, hands and
clothes still grimy with grease from the ThunderTank. It had occurred to him
that WilyKat had been sent by the others to spy on him and that thought had
made him more secretive, hence the reason for his feigned headache of earlier
to get some time to himself. He hadn’t thought he’d been followed yesterday,
but…
Watching Panthro now, however, he was fast coming to the conclusion that
perhaps he had not been as clever as he had thought. If WilyKat had followed
him before, then he might have been following him yesterday as well. He would
have followed him straight into whatever trouble Lion-O had found for himself.
What had happened next was fast becoming obvious. He had never seen Panthro
cry, not even when Thundera had died. On the one occasion he had spoken of his
wife, Lion-O had seen the first beginnings of a loss of control in the nerve
that had started twitching in his jaw. That grief had been reserved for past,
for old wounds that had been accepted, but had never entirely healed. What he
was witnessing now was the grief of the present caused by the deepest loss of
all.
Lion-O could picture the scene in his mind’s eye. A trap sprung that he
had walked into. A battle that he had lost. WilyKat, loyal to the end,
following on the orders of his friends, seeing Lion-O struck down, had rushed
to his defence. That would explain why Lion-O had been spared, but poor Kat
must have paid with his life. Grievously injured, he must have somehow made it
away from that rocky place. Perhaps he had tried to reach his friends to tell
them what had occurred, and they found him broken and lifeless first. Or even
worse, had Grune taken his lifeless body back to the Lair and dumped it there
for the Thundercats to find?
One of these horrors had to be true. No one had come to find him because
no one had known where he was. Sorrow, like the rain that kept up its insistent
drumbeat rhythm on the Paw, hung about the Lair, reaching out to all to share
in its mourning. The unthinkable had happened. A Thundercat had died and he,
Lion-O, Lord of the Thundercats, was to blame. No wonder Panthro’s reaction was
so strong. Lion-O’s mistake was far more grave than he’d imagined, making
Lion-O feel more numb than ever.
Overwhelmed by his own grief, Lion-O steadied himself up against the
ThunderTank, waiting for stinging tears that stubbornly refused to come. He was
too shocked for tears. It was all too unreal. Panthro had been right to call
him all those names. He had been arrogant to think he could take on something
like this alone. He was pig-headed in believing he knew best. He was stupid and
foolish and dumb and every name under the rainbow. Knowing that now gave him
little comfort. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, but of no use to anyone,
certainly not to WilyKat, who had given his life to save an unworthy Lord of
the Thundercats.
The soft swish of the door caught his attention and he looked up to see
Cheetara heading towards the Tank. Her eyes were red from crying and she held
her arms tightly folded. She did not look in Lion-O’s direction, but instead
went straight to Panthro. Given the circumstances, Lion-O couldn’t blame her.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked him.
“Working,” he grunted.
“Panthro, come inside now.”
“I’m fine. Just leave me be.”
“Panthro, please.”
“I said, leave me alone!” He turned on her, anger blazing in his eyes.
“What do you want me to do, Cheetara?”
“Not be on your own. Is that so unreasonable? I know you think throwing
yourself into work will help but --”
He shook his head. “I can’t be in there right now. I have to deal with this
in my own way.” He reached out to her and grasped her shoulder, his tone
turning softer. “Thanks anyway. How are the others?”
“Not good, as you’d expect.” She swallowed hard and bowed her head. “I
can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, fighting back her tears. “If only we hadn’t
gone to that stupid party.”
Panthro pulled her to him and held her while she wept. “He would have
gone anyway. You know what he’s like.” He coughed slightly. “I mean, he was
always a headstrong boy.”
“But he wasn’t a boy, Panthro, he was a man.” Cheetara sniffed heavily.
“I thought he’d grown out of all that. I thought he’d changed.”
“We all did, Cheetara. Perhaps that was our mistake. I can’t help
feeling that I failed him somehow.”
“You didn’t,” said Cheetara. “He respected you, Panthro. He looked up to
you. What happened was no one’s fault but Lion-O’s.”
Lion-O started. The words stung him like few ever have, but he kept his
silence.
“I know. He just got some damn fool idea in his head and ran with it. I
guess he thought he was helping.”
“And what did he achieve by it? Nothing. It’s such a senseless waste.”
Cheetara broke down in a fit of sobbing. The great burden of
responsibility being thrust on his shoulders was too much for Lion-O to bear.
He was not wanted here. Cheetara could not bring herself to even look at him.
And what’s worse, the two of them spoke about him as if he wasn’t even there
and that’s what hurt the most. He’d never seen them this upset with him in his
life but then, his recklessness had never doomed a fellow Thundercat – and one
who had just begun life as a man at that – either.
There was nothing he could say to either of them. He took himself out of
the hangar and let his feet pick their own direction. Approaching the kitchen,
he heard that all too familiar sound of sobbing and did not stop. Snarf was in
there, chopping up vegetables and crying while he worked, apparently trying to
deal with his grief the same way Panthro was – by working. Lion-O passed on,
going deeper into the Lair. In the Sword Chamber, he found Velouria, her knees
clasped to her chest, weeping bitterly for a lost friend, and he did not stop.
On he went until he found himself at the door to the Council Chamber. Muted
voices could be heard within, too soft for him to be able to hear what was
being said. He wanted to go on, but he knew too that he would have to face his
friends sooner or later. WilyKit in particular would be hard to face. Now was
as good a time as any, however. He shouldered his burden and entered.
Seated around the table, as he had expected, were the other Thundercats.
They briefly glanced at the door as it opened, but quickly resumed their prior
activities without so much as a nod to acknowledge him, which Lion-O was
getting used to. Only Felina sat apart by one of the windows, a blanket around
her shoulders and tears showing on her cheeks. Jonca was kneeling by her feet,
resting her head on her mother’s lap, while Leon had found himself a place
beside Bengali, who had his arm around the boy’s shoulders, offering what
comfort he could.
He took a chair and joined them in quiet grief. Whatever they had had to
say before would not now bear his hearing. Lion-O could imagine what it might
have been. Unfit leader, a death on his hands, blame, blame, blame. As if he
didn’t blame himself.
“Enough,” he yelled, getting to his feet after he could take no more of
their brooding silence. “If you’ve got something to say to me, just say it.
Don’t pretend I’m not here. Yes, I made a mistake. I should have told you. But
I never asked him to follow me.”
If he had hoped for a response, he was disappointed. Over by the window,
Felina was trying unsuccessfully to stifle her tears. His outburst had
seemingly only served to upset her further.
“Please,” Lion-O pleaded, “don’t you think I’m hurting too? At least
tell me what happened.” He truly resented that even his memory defied his
requests.
“I want him back,”
“I can’t explain it,” Bengali said kindly to him. “Some times people
die,
From the other side of the table, Tygra replied with a sigh. “It’s
tradition.”
“Whose tradition?” came the angry reply. “It stinks. We all know he’s
dead. Staring at him won’t bring him back.”
“You said yourself that death is a fact of life.”
Lion-O groaned in exasperation, as the others went on discussing the
viewing of the body as if what he had to say in the matter didn’t count. He
supposed it was just as well. Let them be angry. Maybe when the loss wasn’t so
fresh, there’d be time for forgiveness and healing. With that, he sank back
into his seat and did some of his own brooding.
“For us, maybe.” Bengali went on, his gaze falling upon the weeping cub
in his arms. “But for them? Tell me it’s in their best interests.”
“What do you suggest?” Tygra said, rising to his feet. “Pretend that he
went out one day and decided not to come home. Is that any better?”
“Slightly. At least that gives hope of a return.”
“Which isn’t going to happen, ever. They loved him, they need closure,
too.”
“Oh, stop, please!” said Felina. “If this is how things are done, then
let it be so. Don’t let’s argue between ourselves, not at a time like this.”
“Are you sure?” Bengali said. “You don’t have to do this just because
tradition says you must.”
Felina dabbed her eyes with a tissue and nodded. “I want to see him. I
can’t believe he is really dead unless I see him with my own eyes.”
“Well, I still think it stinks.”
“It’s not up to you,” said Tygra. “Is WilyKit still in there?”
“As far as I know. She’s been with WilyKat since they brought him in,
poor kid.”
“On that point, I agree with you.”
Bengali grunted. “So you’re not entirely cold-hearted after all.” He
freed himself from
Leon ground his fists into his eyes and instead turned to his mother for
comfort. Lion-O could only conclude that his guilt was universal if even his
own son ignored him.
No sooner had Bengali left than the door opened again and Pumyra
appeared. She stood on the threshold, unsure or unwilling to proceed any further.
“We’re ready,” she said quietly. “If you are.”
“Thank you, Pumyra,” said Felina, leaving her place at the window.
“Tygra, will you take Leon for me?” She gathered her wrap tightly at her neck
with one hand, and shivered a little while ushering Jonca forward with the
other. She smiled down at her daughter weakly as an attempt to reassure the
girl.
“Of course, Felina. After you.”
Lion-O followed this sad, silent procession down the corridor to the
infirmary. He kept his distance, allowing them the space they needed to grieve.
If nothing he could say or do was right, then it was better not to try anymore.
He had already done enough it seemed. This ostracism was the least he deserved.
For his part, he needed to see WilyKat’s body – see for himself what his
ill-thought scheme had wrought.
As he entered, he noticed that the temperature in the infirmary had been
lowered several degrees. He was already too cold to notice the change on his
skin and it was only when breath became visible in the chill air that he
registered quite how icy it was. The reason was obvious when Pumyra pulled back
the curtains around a medical bed. The shape of a strong, male body could be
made out under the white sheet, still in death. WilyKit had left, perhaps,
Lion-O thought grimly, because she’d heard he was back and couldn’t stand the
sight of him.
The awkward silence that followed made the cramped space oppressive and
Lion-O had to fight the need to escape, the former need to see the results of
his actions losing out in the battle of wills. Against his will, he remained.
He had to see what harm he had done, he reminded himself. He owed WilyKat that
much.
“May I see him?” Felina asked.
Pumyra nodded. “There was nothing we could have done. Death would have been
instantaneous. He wouldn’t have suffered.”
Felina bowed her head. “Thank you. It helps to know that.”
Pumyra took a step away from the bed, giving Felina the space and time
she needed. Hesitantly, she approached the bed until finally she was standing
by its side, looking down at the sheet-covered face. She was so brave, Lion-O
thought, to be here doing this, when all he wanted was to run away. If he ever
got the chance, he would tell her how much he admired her for that.
Her fingers reached for the sheet, only to pause inches from the
material. Lion-O watched her closely, noting the ragged rise and fall of her
shoulders that spoke of the toll this ordeal was having upon her. She asked for
no help, but Lion-O felt compelled to go to her and stand by her side.
“Felina, I’m here,” he said softly, soothingly near her ear. “You don’t
have to do this alone. I’m with you.”
Her reply came in the very slight inclination of her head, the best he
could expect with grief still as raw as this. Perhaps one day, he hoped, his
friends would find it in their hearts to forgive him.
Felina, however, took a deep breath and did what he could not. She drew
back the sheet and Lion-O looked away. Telling himself that he had to face what
his arrogance had caused did not make it any easier. Instead, his head was
turned to the door as he tried to gather his courage so that he saw before any
of the others when WilyKit entered the room, her brother at her side.
Lion-O stared at WilyKat, taking in the sling that went round one arm,
the purpling bruise on his cheek, the plaster that concealed a cut on his
forehead. Seeing him so obviously alive, his first instinct was to laugh out
loud out of sheer relief. All his guilt had been misplaced. WilyKat was not
dead.
Then relief turned to confusion as he remembered that body beneath the
sheet and the tears of his friends. Someone had died, someone for whose death
they blamed him. But if not WilyKat, then who had died this day? He’d seen
Panthro, Tygra, Bengali, Lynx-O – all the other adult male Thundercats to whom
that sheeted silhouette could have belonged were accounted for.
Tearing his eyes from the pair by the door, he followed Felina’s gaze to
stare down at the body on the bed.
He saw a face, pale and serene. He saw skin, mottled with bruises and
laced with cuts. He saw eyes held shut by strips of tape. He saw wild red hair,
tamed now by Pumyra’s care.
He saw himself.
For a long time, he stood, frozen with horror, unable to comprehend what
his eyes were showing him. It made no sense, therefore it could not be true, he
told himself. He could not be there upon that bed and standing right beside
Felina at the same time. This was some horrible joke.
Except no one here was laughing. Felina was weeping as she drew back the
sheet a little more to reveal the hands clasped loosely around the hilt of the
Sword of Omens.
“Oh, Lion-O,” she whispered. “What have you done?”
She clasped his hands and pressed them to her face. Her tears fell and it
was Tygra who reached out to give her comfort.
“Felina, I’m so sorry,” he said.
She choked back her tears and called her children to her side. “Leon,
Jonca, come and see your father.” They held back, trepidation showing in their
young eyes. “It’s all right,” she said. “He’s at peace now. Come.”
They obeyed and she held their hands as they stood beside the bed.
“Why has he left us?” Jonca asked timidly. “Are you sure he’s not just
sleeping?” she added hopefully.
“Yes, baby. I’m sure. He didn’t want to leave us,” Felina said, kneeling
down to come to the child’s level. “Something happened and he was hurt very
badly. His body could not make him better.” She wiped the tears from the
child’s cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You remember how he
used to talk about your Papa – my father – who used to come talk to him?”
The child nodded.
“Well, I bet they’re together now on the Astral Plane and that they’re
both watching over all of us. He’ll always be with us.”
“I miss him,” the child sobbed, clearly unconsoled. “I want him back.”
Felina embraced her and the pair shared their grief. Leon, who had
remained silent and ashen, fled the room, pushing past WilyKit and WilyKat in
his hurry.
“Sorry,” WilyKit said. “We didn’t mean to intrude. I took WilyKat to get
a drink. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“You did no wrong,” said Tygra. He pulled the sheet back over the body
and hid the face from view. “In accordance with tradition, we have been
witnesses to the death of the Lord of the Thundercats. Pumyra?”
She had never moved from her position on the other side of the bed, but
only now that she cleared her throat was Lion-O aware of her presence and that
realization brought his mind out of its stunned numbness.
“The death was confirmed and recorded by myself in the official
register. Cause was…” Her voice broke and she had to take a minute to compose
herself. “The cause was recorded as death due to multiple internal injuries
leading to heart failure.”
“Then it is done,” said Tygra. He laid his hand on Felina’s shoulder and
she looked up. “Come, you don’t have to be here.”
Felina shook her head. “Take Jonca. I want to be with him a while
longer.”
Tygra nodded his understanding and took the girl by the hand. The others
followed him out until only Felina and WilyKat remained. He hesitated before
leaving, turning back with a distraught expression on his face.
“Felina, I’m sorry. I tried.”
“I know, WilyKat.”
“Grune, he was…” He paused for breath. “It was a trap. I couldn’t stop
him.”
“You were almost killed yourself. You did what you could.” Felina’s eyes
returned to the sheet-covered body. “Lion-O shouldn’t have been there alone. He
knew the risks and still he went. It is not your fault.”
WilyKat bowed his head. “It feels like it. He wasn’t alone. I’m not much
of a Thundercat if I couldn’t save Lion-O.”
He turned and left, shoulders slumped. Felina watched him go, then
returned to her vigil.
“Lion-O, why did you do it?” she said softly to his still figure. “I
would give anything to have you back.”
Events had moved round him so fast that he had barely registered what
was happening. Only Felina’s words brought him back to his senses completely
enough to be able to articulate his feelings.
“Felina,” he said, “what are you talking about? I’m still here. I
haven’t gone anywhere. There’s been a mistake.” Maybe…maybe Mumm-Ra was back
and he’d tricked them all into thinking Lion-O was dead. That had to be it.
He reached out to her, only for his hand to pass through her shoulder.
He stared at his hand, so real to his eyes, but lacking substance in Felina’s
world, the world of the living. While she cried over his still body, slowly the
truth that he had tried so hard to deny took hold of his mind. The coldness
that would not leave him, the apparent abandonment by his friends, the way they
ignored him, the grief in the Lair, so tangible as to be felt by anyone who
came under its roof. With that revelation came panic and his hands started to
tremble in its grip.
“I’m… I’m not dead,” he said falteringly. “No, it’s impossible. It’s
Mumm-ra. He’s cast a spell over me. That’s why you can’t hear me, isn’t it,
Felina? Felina, please answer me.”
He yelled in her ear, but still she made no sign of having heard him. Before
his eyes, she started to fade. The lines of the room blurred into strips of
colour and Felina became so much red against the white of the sheet. The world
was dissolving and taking him with it.
“No, this isn’t happening,” he cried out. “Someone, someone help me,
please!”
“Be still,” came a calm voice.
He turned to face this newcomer. He recognised Jaga, the leader who had
never left his side, even coming to offer advice from the Astral Plane, and his
heart soared. Jaga would explain everything. Jaga would help him. He always
did.
“Jaga, please, something terrible has happened and I don’t understand
it. None of my friends can see me. They think I am dead.”
“You are dead, Lion-O.”
The bluntness of Jaga’s solemn but pointed reply made Lion-O reel. He
still could not accept this. “No, that’s impossible, Jaga. Look,” he said,
holding out his hands, “I have a body. I can feel. That means I am alive.”
“Yet you feel only coldness, Lion-O. Your tears will not fall. You
cannot touch the ones you love. This body you have is an illusion.”
“I’m not Tygra. I can’t make illusions.”
“The mind is capable of many things. When it cannot comprehend, it must
make the unfamiliar into the familiar.”
“I don’t believe you. If this happened, I would remember how.”
“You believed that body you saw in the infirmary before the sheet was
pulled back. You believed the tears of your wife and children. Were those also
illusions?”
Lion-O nodded furiously. “This is a dream. I’ll wake up in a minute.”
“No, Lion-O. Grune took your life. You followed him and he was waiting
for you. He got the better of you this time. You don’t remember because a soul
never can remember when it leaves suddenly, violently. It’s too traumatic.”
Lion-O pressed his hands over his ears to try to block out Jaga’s words,
but still he could hear him. He’d followed Grune, undetected he was sure. He’d
had the Sword at his side. How could he have been finished, and now of all
times? It just couldn’t be true. He didn’t want it to be true. Lion-O was Lord
of the ThunderCats, he had the Eye to protect him. This simply could not be.
“WilyKat tried to save you, but he too was attacked. Grune spared him so
that he could tell your friends what happened.”
“You’re lying.”
Even as he said it, he knew the futility of denying it. Jaga had never
lied to him before. If anyone was lying, then he was, lying to himself that his
life persisted when all the evidence told him otherwise.
There was nowhere left to hide. He sank to his knees and, as through a
misty window, he looked back at Felina, parted from him in her world. He
watched as Snarf came into view and Felina knelt to embrace him.
“How can I leave them?” he said. “What will become of them?”
A kindly smile came to Jaga’s face. “They will grieve, but they will
survive.” His hand came to rest on Lion-O’s shoulder, the first real sensation
he had been able to feel since he had woken up in that place where his soul had
parted from his body. “Come, it is time to go.”
“Go where?”
“To the Astral Plane.”
“No, I can’t.”
“If you remain here, you will be trapped between this world and the next
for all eternity.”
“But if I go, I’ll never see them again.”
“Yes, you will. You will see them grow and live in the world. You will
watch them as I have watched you all these years. And then one day, when it is
their time, you will be reunited and it will be as if you have never been
away.”
His words were gentle, and Lion-O looked up into his eyes to see the
same kindness reflected there.
“Jaga, I’m afraid,” he admitted without shame. “If I go, will I forget?
Will they forget me?”
“They will never forget you, Lion-O, nor you forget them. You will be in
their hearts always. Through their love will you live forever.” He held out his
hand to him. “Let us leave this place. There is only sorrow here.”
Lion-O stared at the offered hand. Once he took it, he knew everything
would change. He would be parted from everything he loved, only able to watch
and never to participate again in their world. His sorrow was overwhelming as
he gazed at Felina one last time.
“I never wanted to leave you,” he whispered to her. “Forgive me.”
In the infirmary, she stirred and looked up. For one precious moment,
Lion-O was sure she had heard him. His hopes were dashed as she shrugged and
sadly shook her head.
“Goodbye, Lion-O,” he heard her say while releasing Snarf from the
embrace and rising to her feet. Then, kissing her fingertips, she touched them
to his covered face a world away. “Sweet dreams, my love.”
She and Snarf left and Lion-O too knew it was time to leave. There was
nothing left for him on Third Earth. He took Jaga’s hand and followed him away
from the world of the living to the waiting light of the Astral Plane.
************
Night time came with no break in the rain. It still pattered
relentlessly on the window as Felina readied herself for bed. The shock and
strain of the day’s events made her feel more tired and drained than she
perhaps ever had in her life, though she wondered if she would be able to
sleep. This would be her first night sleeping alone in the bed they’d shared
platonically for years and, as she stared forlornly at the bed, knew it served
as a reminder that today wasn’t just a bad dream. WilyKat had really come
staggering home with shocking news. Even as the other’s had retrieved the body
and ushered it into the infirmary in the vain hope of saving him, she couldn’t
believe it. She was sure she’d never forget the look on Tygra’s face or the
bewildered waver in his voice when he emerged to confirm what none of them ever
wanted to hear – Lion-O was gone. She’d
seen for herself that it was true, and her memory burned with the image of
Lion-O battered, still and lifeless.
All that they had been through together, all that he had been through
alone, the injuries he’d received over the years, the staggering odds he’d
routinely fought and won against, spoke to his resilience and put truth in the
words he’d spoken to her so long ago. He’d grow old with her, he’d said. The
chances got slimmer every day that he’d leave them before his time, he’d
promise, for life was good now. He’d stand by her when Leon, their son, took
the reins of the Lordship someday when he grew to be a man. They all wanted to
believe it, and for a time his confidence was infectious, but in an instant
he’d been proved horribly, irrevocably wrong.
Having to blink back fresh, hot and stinging tears snapped Felina out of
her memories, and a bitter, raspy laugh escaped her lips. So much for the hope
that the Mutant’s waning resistance and Mumm-Ra’s lack of a reappearance gave
them. Grune was always the wild card and the loose canon. And it seemed he’d
finally made good on his threat against the ThunderCat Lord. Patience, timing,
and the lull of a life lived too complacently was all he needed. Things had
been going so well for so long, it was easy to believe they could simply coast
on the hope of a happy-ever-after, and just when they thought they might even
reunite with their kind. Grune had taken that dream from them just as sure as
he’d taken Lion-O’s life.
Felina knew in her aching heart that Grune likely wasn’t satisfied with
this alone, though she imagined he was somewhere licking his own wounds.
Judging by Lion-O’s condition, he’d fought valiantly if briefly for his life.
She was just as sure Grune was also revelling in his triumph and planning his
next move. Without Lion-O to lead and Leon too young to take his place, and
perhaps to more of an extent, wield the Sword of Omens, they were as vulnerable
as a group now than ever. He had to know that. The Thundercats were all too
aware of it.
As badly as Felina wished to curl up in a corner and mourn the loss of
her best friend and companion, she knew the luxury to grieve at length was not
to be. At eight, Leon was too young to take his father’s place, so they would
have to think of something else in the meantime to try to fill that void.
Whoever it was, she didn’t envy him. That all was to be sorted at a Council
meeting on the morrow, and she knew she should probably come armed with some
bit of precedent from the history books and fresh spells from the Book of
Omens, but her mind would focus on little other than the fact that Lion-O was
gone and the emptiness that left inside her. He was really just gone.
Plopping onto the mattress, she threw herself down on the stack of
pillows – left the way Lion-O had always preferred them – and stared up at the
ceiling. Instead of turning off the lamp and trying to coax sleep to come to
her, she lay there thinking about the last time she saw Lion-O. Felina thought
hard to recall every detail about what he’d said, what she said, how he looked
– anything – before she left with the others to the Berbil Village. She sighed,
dissatisfied at her recall. She’d taken it for granted that she’d return to the
Lair to see him again, alive and well. If she’d known that was the last time
she’d see him alive, there was so much she might have said, little details she
would have noted to herself to remember. But, he’d stayed on watch alone
before, and they’d always been reunited to enjoy each other’s company another
day. How was she to know this time would be tragically different? How could she
have predicted their time was short and she should have told him so many of the
things that she simply assumed he knew regarding how she felt?
Felina turned to look at the empty space beside her and fresh tears
flowed. She felt overwhelmed with the uncertainties that now littered their
future. How was she going to raise their children without a father? Would the
other Thundercats lending a hand be enough? Could they cope with Grune and the
Mutants without Lion-O? What if Mumm-Ra came back? Most of all, who was she
going to turn to now? Sure, the Thundercats were all her friends, but over the
years, it was Lion-O with whom she’d bonded with closely in friendship after
their rough and doomed romantic start. They had indeed managed to forge a solid
friendship, and she missed it already. There was nobody left that could
compare, not even Tygra. Lion-O really had been her best friend, and it made
her feel suddenly angry that he’d selfishly left them all behind.
She found herself wondering what many of the others already had. Why.
Why did he have to walk right into that trap? Why didn’t he come to them and
let them tackle his concerns as a team? Wondering these things were futile, she
knew, for the only one who could give the right answers was gone forever. Or
was he?
Her kind believed in an astral world where deceased loved ones waited
for the living to join them, but why did she feel like she was the one doing
all the waiting? Time dragged on slowly and without mercy, to her mind, and
Lion-O had only been gone from them one day. How was she expected to deal with
this daily, for decades to come?
Felina sat up and swept the pillows off the bed onto the floor to vent
her frustrations. She wanted to kick and scream or…or do something more
significant to manifest her anger. She felt horribly abandoned, robbed and
cheated among a host of other nasty and powerful emotions. But no, it wouldn’t
serve any productive purpose and likely only disturb the others who were also
grappling with their grief if she were to do anything stronger to express
herself. Instead, Felina dropped back down on the mattress and rubbed her
swollen eyes with her palms, making an effort to catch her breath between
hitching sobs while trying not to think about how bad her head hurt from all
the crying. It amazed her that one person could produce so many tears as though
they sprang from a well eternal. She was tired of crying, and yet could not
stop the flow.
She let her hands drop and studied the ceiling again. Her thoughts
turned to the astral plane, a place Lion-O had told her that her father
dwelled. Felina had heard stories often enough about such a place, even from
those back on Thundera as a child. The Book of Omens also spoke of it. She’d
viewed it as little more than something people believed in to comfort
themselves when those they loved passed on, but after her time with Lion-O here
on Third Earth she had to admit that he sometimes talked to someone she could
not see. The thought gave her some comfort, though new wonderings threatened to
quell the new peace.
If her father could appear to Lion-O, shouldn’t he be able to appear to
somebody? Would his ghost ever appear to her? Felina wondered.
“Where are you?” she said aloud into the empty room. “Are you there? Can
you hear me? I need you.”
No ghostly forms appeared, and no distant echo sounded like a voice from
the realm beyond. She couldn’t sense him in any way, though every fiber in her
being tried to detect something, any sign really, that he was there. Silence
and stillness greeted her queries. Felina found herself longing for that
contact, however, the simple thought of Lion-O safely in the astral realm no
longer good enough. She needed to see him animated one last time, she needed to
hear his voice tell her everything would be alright – that they were somehow
perfectly capable of going on without him. But she had no way to know how that
worked, only that she remembered her father would appear to Lion-O whenever he
had needed him. Well, she needed Lion-O now, and where was he? There was
nothing in the way of a response from the misty astral plane and the
nothingness dragged on for several minutes. She closed her eyes and for a
moment, almost thought she could hear the easy rhythm of his breaths as though
he were lying beside her sleeping peacefully – as he always had been before.
Her imagination was running wild. Or was it? Could he be there with her in some
form, trying to comfort her? Felina wanted badly to believe that could be true,
pushing the cold logical voice in her head back that said it was her
imagination creating the sound, so badly did she crave a sign. She laid there
and listened to that rhythm, barely detectable under that set by the rain,
until a small voice from near the doorway made her startle.
“Mama, can we sleep with you?”
She looked to see her children standing just inside the door, both
looking drawn, scared and uncertain. Normally, they were well past the age to
seek comfort in the night time in their parents’ room but this, Felina knew,
was a circumstance worth indulging them.
“Of course,” she said, pushing herself toward the center of the bed to
make room for the twins.
They stepped over the scattered pillows and climbed up next to their
mother. They gathered on either side of Felina and clung to their mother
tightly as though they feared she’d next leave them. Leon remained sullen and
quiet. Jonca nestled in close, and Felina noticed her eyes seemed to be
following something on the other side of the room. Felina turned her head but
saw nothing but shadows cast by the lamp light on the wall. If her own
imagination was running away, she could only imagine what was going through the
minds of the twins. Felina had lost her mother at a young age, but it was too
young to even have memories. For Leon and Jonca, the void left by their
father’s passing was going to be great. He’d been an involved, attentive and
loving father to them. Felina knew she couldn’t make up for the enormous
influence Lion-O had had in their lives, nor could anyone in the Lair be a true
substitute for the loss, but she could do her best not to get lost in her own
grief and be their mother. They needed her now more than ever.
Felina reached out and petted Jonca’s wild mane that was so much like
her father’s had been. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered and hoped it to be
true.
****************
The
Slim - Sugar
Do
you know where you're going
Do you
know where you've been
Is
it simple is it simple
The
chances seemed so slim
In a
cloud is it cloudy
You've
clouded up again
Your
perception your decision
Your
decision
Behind
I'm left behind
Oh,
I'm left behind, I'm left behind
It's
a matter of time
Your
protection from ejection
My
rejection
Protection
from the slide
Projection
from a slide
Did
it all seem so easy
So
easy to concede
Giving
in giving in
The
chances seemed so slim
In a
moment just a moment
I
felt you rushing in
You were
rushing I am crushing
Your
rush to cruise this
I'm
left behind
Left
behind I'm left behind
It's
a matter of time
Your
protection from injection
My
rejection
Protection
from the slide
Projection
from a slide
I
with your breath on my pillow
And
I with the memory
I
get to wait it out never put it away
When
you left with your death
I
felt empty when I looked back
On
my pillow what you used to say
What
you used to say
I...I'm
left behind
I...I'm
left behind
I
with your breath on my pillow
I
with the memory
I
get to wait
It
out never put it away
When
you left with your death
I
felt anger when I looked back
On
my pillow what you used to say
What
you used to say
I
felt your breath for a moment
I
heard your voice for a moment
Then
I looked back
On my
pillow what you used to say
What
we used to say
That
the chances seemed so slim
The
chances used to be so slim
Now
I swim alone
The
slim
Alone
To
honor and obey
To
cherish and to worship
In
sickness and in health
For
richer for poorer for anything
--The Slim, Sugar
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