Chapter 35 of Signal in the Sky
Shadow Play
By Purrsia Kat & Spaced Angel
By
the next evening, the weather had indeed cleared and proved a few degrees
warmer than even the above-average spring temperatures that the Lair computers
had predicted. WilyKat sat at the bottom of the steps in front of the Lair
watching
Part
of him felt hopeful the cub would rebound just fine from the death of his father,
just as WilyKat and his sister had done the same when they lost their parents
at a young age. A lot of that was owed to the other ThunderCats, and WilyKat
wanted to be sure he played a part in
Kat
rested and watched the pair, trying to stave off his own guilt for the state of
things. For the first time since Lion-O had died before his eyes, WilyKat
allowed his mind to retrace his steps that fateful day…
*~*~*~*
On
that day, Kat followed the other Thundercats on the winding path to the
“Like
me to turn around and make sure Lion-O doesn’t dash off on us?” he offered
before she had a chance to say anything.
She
looked mildly pleased at his intuitiveness. “In fact, that’s exactly what I was
going to suggest. I—“
“Had
a feeling,” he finished. “Say no more. That’s why I brought the space board.”
“And
here I thought you only finished your sister’s sentences,” Cheetara said with a
mild laugh. “I really appreciate this, Kat. I’ll make it up to you by bringing
home extra Candy Fruit.”
Kat
nodded dutifully before hopping on his board and heading back toward the Lair.
Sure enough, when he arrived he found the Lair empty with the controls set on
automatic. Cheetara’s feelings were rarely off the mark, Kat mused grimly.
Either something came up to tear Lion-O away from his post, or he was up to
something more along the lines of what Cheetara worried about. That having to
do with some questionable plan to bring the Mutants or Grune to justice so they
could get on with the business of going home.
Kat
used the Lair’s scanners to get a fix on Lion-O’s location easily enough. He
could tell Lion-O was headed toward some rarely visited badlands to the far
east and wondered what he could be doing out there. They’d never, in all their
years, found anything of use or value there. Then, the scanners picked up
another mass of energy that was Thunderian in origin, and knowing the other
Thundercats were at the festival it only meant one thing.
“Grune,”
Kat mutterred, before switching the computers back to autoscan and heading out
on his board as fast as he could. If Grune was out there, Lion-O may need his
help.
He
caught up to Lion-O quickly enough, deciding to hide his spaceboard near where
Lion-O had abandoned the HoverCat in favor of going on foot. The terrain was
getting rough and he wouldn’t have been able to follow Lion-O undetected on the
board. Kat concluded Lion-O must know Grune was in the area and likewise didn’t
want the HoverCat to give away his presence either. That gave Kat some relief.
At least Lion-O was aware he wasn’t alone.
Cheetara
chose Kat as the one to follow for his cunning. Being sneaky, as she had put
it, had long been the ThunderTwins’ strong suits. Again, he hoped she was
right.
WilyKat
picked his way through the uneven, rocky terrain. At times he could even see
the flame red of Lion-O’s mane ahead of him in the distance, only to have it
disappear behind the sea of boulders and rock outcroppings that separated the
two. Kat was of course mindful that Grune was likely in the area, and all his
senses were working overtime to pick up anything unusual should the hunters
become the hunted. Surely Lion-O had to be taking the same precautions. There
was no other reason for Lion-O to be out in a place like this unless he too had
picked up on Grune’s presence and came out to confront him.
The
only real question was why Lion-O had chosen to do so by himself. Maybe it was
a pride thing. Facing and capturing Grune one on one must be a matter of
principal in Lion-O’s mind. They’d had a rivalry going for years, and perhaps
Lion-O thought it best they settle it cat to cat before bringing Grune in to
face justice. Either way, Grune was a formidable opponent, even with the odds
even, and Kat had to question his leader’s sanity.
By
now, it was late afternoon and the shadows cast by the boulders were getting
long. It was enough to make one do a double take, the paranoid imagination of
one on edge conjuring a crouching attacker where there was none. If they
lingered until dusk, things were only going to go from bad to worse.
Kat
at least had managed to sneak up close enough to keep Lion-O’s figure in view
almost constantly, and noted that he held some sort of device; perhaps
something used to track his prize. Lion-O paused a long moment, and surveyed
his surroundings in all directions, causing Kat to have to duck behind a rock
to keep from being discovered himself.
He
was there to assist if things went wrong, but Kat promised himself he’d not
treat Lion-O like a child by marching over to him and demanding to know what he
thought he was doing. Nor would he humiliate Lion-O by calling the others on
his communicator; not before Kat was sure what was going on. But since Cheetara
was the one who had pushed for at least tailing the Thundercat Lord, WilyKat
thought at least that much should be done.
When
he thought it would be safe, WilyKat slowly peeked around the bolder that hid
him from Lion-O’s view. Now Lion-O had pulled out the Sword of Omens, and Kat
could hear him request its powers of sight beyond sight. Only, nothing happened.
Lion-O brought the sword down from in front of his eyes and looked it over with
puzzlement, and WilyKat too thought that was odd. Clearly, there was some kind
of interference in the area. However, if something in the area had crippled the
Sword’s powers, then surely the warning growl would not sound either.
Kat
gulped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Lion-O, clearly annoyed
at his tracking device and the Sword of Omens, put both away. WilyKat felt some
relief when Lion-O began to return in the direction he’d come from. He was
giving up and getting out of there, it seemed, and to Kat it seemed wise
enough. When they all got back to the Lair, this would have to be dealt with.
This was the second time Lion-O had wandered off by himself and it just
wouldn’t do. The first time, they’d given him the benefit of the doubt, but now
it was clearer what Lion-O was up to. At some point, his luck was going to run
out. The Thundercats would have to demand they do this together, as a team or
not at all, Kat thought firmly and knew full well Cheetara would agree. But
right now, the two of them had to concentrate on getting home unscathed.
Keeping
his back tight up against the smooth surface of the boulder, Kat did a little
evasive maneuver to ensure Lion-O didn’t notice him when he walked by on his
way back through. After letting a little distance grow between them, Kat was on
the move again.
They’d
covered maybe half the distance back to their transports, where the terrain
possessed the extra feature of some impressive gorges; impressive enough that
Kat wouldn’t want to lose his footing and end up at the bottom of one. Some
areas only offered a narrow footpath as a means to cross, and they were coming
up on one now.
Just
when Kat was feeling a little more relaxed, hoping that maybe Lion-O lost track
of Grune because the rogue Thundercat was out of the area, Lion-O paused again.
Kat thought maybe he’d been discovered when Lion-O slowly turned and glanced in
his general direction, causing Kat to dash behind the outcropping he was near.
Again, when he felt it was safe, Kat peeked around the corner. Lion-O was no
longer looking directly in his direction, but Kat’s eyes widened at what came
out of the growing shadows behind Lion-O.
Everything
seemed to be happening at once and yet in slow motion at the same time.
Uncaring of his covert operation, Kat pushed himself into Lion-O’s view and
shouted.
“Lion-O,
behind you!”
Kat
saw Grune looming large behind a shocked Lion-O, who had yet to heed Kat’s warning
and whirl around to see the club Grune held high above his head coming down in
a sweeping arc to do its damage to the ThunderCat Lord.
Kat
wasn’t sure he’d cover the distance in time, but his body pushed him to try.
Shockingly,
his momentum was stopped when a tan blur that came from somewhere to the right
of Kat, tackling him in the side and knocking him painfully to the rocky,
uneven ground.
Kat’s
thoughts ran wild as he remembered Grune sometimes hung around the Mutants and
that they too were here to mount an ambush on Lion-O. If so, the two of them
were sorely outnumbered, especially if the Sword of Omens was unable to call
the others. He wondered if he’d live to regret his decision not to get on his
communicator to the others beforehand.
However,
when he got his wits about him, only Grune and Lion-O could be seen quite a
distance ahead, struggling. Lion-O had taken the brunt of the first blow on his
left shoulder and arm, which had knocked the claw shield off his arm with
brutal force. The Sword remained in Lion-O’s other hand, and only it and the
shear will of Lion-O to survive were aiding him.
Ignoring
his own scrapes and bruises, Kat rose to his feet and tried again to close the
distance between him and the dueling pair, calling to Lion-O the whole time.
But again, he was hit by some unseen force and found himself hurled hard into a
nearby boulder, his arm smashed hard between his body weight and the
unforgiving surface of the rock. Kat felt the breath leave him for a moment,
falling to his knees and helpless to move. He mentally cursed himself for not
using a smoke pellet to hide his advance, but once he got his breath back he
would not make the same mistake twice.
Looking
up, he saw that Lion-O was on his feet. This was his chance. Kat worked his way
upright, his breath returning to him enough to hopefully manage his next move.
“Lion-O,”
he called, while using his good arm to toss a pellet in Grune’s general
direction. “Look out.”
As
he hoped, Grune was too focused on taking Lion-O out to heed WilyKat’s warning
as well, and was enveloped in the stinging mists of a pellet that rendered the
Thunderian temporarily blinded by the chemicals. While Grune cursed, coughed
and wheezed, Kat closed the distance between he and Lion-O and the two
attempted to make a hasty retreat. The whole while, Kat worried about Grune’s
unseen assistant. The trouble with employing a smoke pellet now was that they’d
come to the narrow footpath. He couldn’t be sure that he and Lion-O would be
able to see well enough to avoid the steep slopes that bordered the narrow path
they had to negotiate first. The bright side was the attacker could only come
at them from one direction.
When
they were about halfway across, their progress slowed by Lion-O’s injuries, Kat
tried to use his communicator to call the others. But he found it’d been broken
in his struggle against the unseen foe. Lion-O confirmed the Sword would not
call the others, which was a further blow to their efforts. They were on their
own this time. At least he was able to warn Lion-O their might be Mutants in
the area, too.
Kat
looked back and was disheartened to find Grune squinting but determined to
pursue. He tried to urge the injured Lion-O on faster, but it was no use.
Grune, even with eyes that likely weren’t seeing too clearly, was approaching
fast. Despite Lion-O’s protests, Kat urged him to go on ahead while he went
back and stalled Grune.
“No,”
Lion-O said between haggard breaths. “You’re hurt too. We’ve got to stick
together.”
Now he was all gung-ho for sticking together, Kat
grumbled inwardly. “Just trust me,” he said, before turning back toward Grune.
Lion-O wasn’t the only one who could just decide to do what he wanted.
Grune’s
derisive smirk grew as WilyKat approached him on the narrow, uneven path.
“Lion-O
sending cublings to do a cat’s job?”
Rather
than waste time answering the taunt with words, Kat quickly took out his lasso
and snapped it around the club Grune held. With all the strength he could
muster in his good arm, he gave the line a sharp snap. It brought the weapon
out of Grune’s hand and sent it tumbling down the steep bank out of reach. The
action even caused Grune to lose his balance, and for a moment, Kat thought
he’d tumble right after the club. But the big Thunderian righted himself just
in time, and with renewed hatred on his face, took wide purposeful strides
toward Kat.
It
was time to get to safer ground, Kat decided, hoping Lion-O was already there
on the other side where the path again widened. He tossed a barrage of pellets
back at Grune as he went. But Grune’s strides were more than double what Kat’s
were. Grune easily walked right past oil or ice thrown in his path, and the
heavier artillery didn’t seem to phase the giant cat. One pellet shot an array
of painful darts into Grune where his armor didn’t protect him, and the
determined Thunderian didn’t even flinch.
Kat
was holding back his last smoke screen pellet and was glad he did when he
turned to find Lion-O lingering on the other side of the gorge. Lion-O had made
it, but should have kept going. Grune was going to likely catch up to Kat, and
there wasn’t a lot to be done about that, but Lion-O had to go and get help.
“Lion-O,
get out of here!” Kat shouted, throwing the pellet past the Lord of the
Thundercats to offer him the coverage to slip into the boulders and make his
escape.
No
sooner had he done that than a heavy fist found his lower back, pushing him
brutally off his feet and carrying him the rest of the way from the narrow path
to land in a heap on the other side.
Kat
remained conscious, and groaned as Grune gave him a swift kick in the side on
his way by, sending Kat’s battered body sliding into another unforgiving rock
formation. Kat looked up and was dismayed to see Lion-O hadn’t heeded the
chance to slip away and instead emerged from the smoke to face Grune.
He
watched helplessly as the two sparred, trading blows with Lion-O inflicting
some damage with the blade of the Sword.
“What’s
the matter, Lion-O? Can’t call your friends to bail you out this time?” Kat
heard Grune say.
Lion-O
growled. “I don’t need them to put the likes of you in your place, Grune.
Wickedness never pays.”
The
laugh that Grune let out sent a chill through WilyKat. “Never say never
Lion-O.”
Even
without his weapon, with Lion-O hurt and tired, Grune was able to get the upper
hand. The agonizing pain in WilyKat’s back prevented him from being able to do
anything about it, but watch in disbelief.
Grune
had Lion-O pinned up against a large rock, his hands closed around Lion-O’s
throat. Lion-O dropped the Sword in favor of trying to force Grune to
relinquish his grip, but it was to no avail. Grune was going to choke the life
out of Lion-O, and Kat had to stop him!
Kat
mustered the strength to move, a plan forming in his mind. But in an instant,
Grune rendered any move he were to make null. Lifting Lion-O off the ground by
his neck, he tossed him back toward the narrow footpath they’d just come from.
But instead of falling onto the safety of the path, Lion-O hung for what seemed
like agonizing minutes in the air before dropping to the depths below with a
strangled cry of surprise.
Kat’s
breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene, unwilling to believe that
he’d just witnessed this nightmare. Looking up at an exhausted Grune, he bared
his teeth and growled low and fierce. Maybe Grune did really just finish
Lion-O, and maybe Kat’s moments were numbered as well, but he’d never get them
all. And Kat told the sneering Grune so, after finally crawling his way to the
fallen Sword and waving it menacingly in Grune’s direction. He wouldn’t go down
without a fight, either.
Grune,
heaving with exertion and exhaustion, regarded the injured Thundercat with an
amused sneer. After having gone to the edge of the gorge to make sure the job
was done, he came back to impart a final chilling message to the injured
wildcat. “I will spare you. For now. Tell the others they’ll be hearing from me
real soon.”
And
with that, Grune stumbled away, satisfied enough with what he had done.
WilyKat
sat stunned for a long time. Staring at the edge of the precipice, he was sure
Lion-O would pop up at any moment hurt but alive and vowing to make Grune pay.
Minutes ticked by and only eerie silence reigned with no sign of Grune or the
Mutants that probably helped him. Though Kat thought it odd that lot wouldn’t
at least make an appearance to grab some credit, or at least claim the Sword of
Omens, there was no denying what just happened.
Finally,
Kat got to his feet with some effort and staggered to the edge to see for
himself. Looking down, he saw Lion-O lying on his back. No movement was
detected, nor were there any groans of pain.
No.
It couldn’t be true. Kat felt panic and dread rising up from the pit of his
stomach until it tightened his throat.
“Lion-O!”
Kat cried down at the still form below. And yet, there remained no movement, no
reply. There was only Kat’s voice echoing through the gorge, calling out the
name of someone who would never answer.
Even
though he knew in his heart the awful truth, he called down, “I’ll go get help.
Hang on!”
There
was no way he could scale down to Lion-O in his condition, the ledge Lion-O
rested on was dozens of feet below at best, let alone haul him back up. Kat
preferred to cling to the wild thought that Lion-O was just unconscious and
could still be saved, leaving Grune to curse having not finished the job. He
had to try.
With
Sword of Omens held tightly in his grip, it was nearly nightfall by the time Kat
made it to his space board. A light mist began to fall from the clouds above
leaving him cold in addition to all his other miseries. Unable to stand well on
the board, he laid down on it awkwardly and made a flight back to the Lair that
would have been comical in some ways had not the circumstances been so dire.
Once
he made it back to the Lair, which was closer than the Village, he could
finally reach the others. In fact, he only stumbled inside the doors and
slapped the Lair alarms on knowing the signal would also go out to any of their
communicators that had an open channel. He waited sitting by the door, too
drained and shocked to go any further.
WilyKat
would never forget their looks of shock when they laid eyes on him or the dread
once they realized he was alone and clutching the Sword of Omens. He saw the
same stunned realization in their eyes, and yet they too would cling to a thin
hope, until they would bring Lion-O’s body home and be forced to face reality.
Kit
had stayed with him, nursing his wounds, while the others mounted the rescue
mission. In the end, it wound up a mere recovery of a body. Life in the Lair
had never been the same since. Wickedness had paid. Grune won.
*~*~*~*~*
“Feeling
better?”
The
simple question brought Kat back to the present day. He looked up at his twin
sister and at first only muttered something unintelligible in response.
She
sat down on the step beside him. "C'mon Kat. Tell me what's going
on."
Kat
blinked back the tears that had started to form in his eyes from the memories,
and swallowed hard. Kit had been his most staunch supporter, though nobody
really seemed to blame him at all for what happened. Everyone, in fact, seemed
to agree that what happened to Lion-O was his own doing - or undoing, if one wanted
to look at it that way.
"Same
old stuff," WilyKat offered weakly. He really didn't want to get into it
again. Thinking back on that fateful day had drained him more than he realized
at first.
Kit
wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders, and rather than press him to talk
more, she simply rested her head on his arm and watched
Kat
heard the sound of Leon's laughter and it brightened his spirits a little. At
least someone around the Lair could forget long enough to laugh. For Kat, there
were still too many questions and too many scenarios to second-guess. Every
doubt led to a single conclusion: somehow Lion-O's death was his fault.
******************
“Coward!”
A beam of red energy shot out from Mumm-Ra’s eyes and scorched up the
ground heading straight towards where Tygra stood. All around him, he heard his
friends yelling for him to get out of the way, but Tygra held his ground. In
his hand, the Sword was growling furiously, like a beast eager to be released
from its cage. The beam stopped just short of his feet and Mumm-Ra gazed down
at him with puzzlement.
“Perhaps I underestimated you, Thundercat. A lesser individual would
have been all too eager to show me his prowess with that pretty toy you hold.”
“The Sword of Omens has power enough,” Tygra replied. “It is there when
and if I need it.”
Mumm-Ra chuckled. “You speak for yourself. What of your friends?”
Tygra was a fraction too slow to react as Mumm-Ra’s hand came up. He saw
the lightning bolt of red energy lash out towards WilyKit. He saw her
frightened eyes and the look of terror on her face in the seconds before the
blast hit her and threw her broken body back into the trees with a sickening
thud.
“No!”
Tygra sat bolt upright, his eyes opening to darkness. The sheets
slithered from his sweat-soaked body and ended up in a limp mass in his lap. He
was breathing heavily, as though he had been running for his life, and yet he
had not left his bed. Beside him, Cheetara slept soundly, her body moving to
the gentle rhythm of her breathing and he surmised that he must not have cried
out in his sleep.
It was night, he was in his bed in Cats’ Lair and it had all been just a
dream. A very bad dream at that, he had to admit. It had seemed real enough to
shake him from his sleep and deprive him of any further rest this night. His
ragged breathing was returning to normal and the sweat was drying on his skin
to leave him feeling cold and clammy. If he lay down again, he knew he was
bound for a restless night of tossing and turning. That would wake Cheetara and
she would want to know what troubled him. He would either have to lie poorly or
tell her the truth. Neither of those seemed a particularly appealing prospect and,
given the choice, he preferred to avoid the situation altogether by getting up.
It would mean another day of tiredness and headaches, but being awake was
preferable to the terrors that patrolled his mind during the night.
Leaving Cheetara to her slumbers, he crept from the room and out into
the muted light of the corridor. The Lair was reassuringly quiet and only the
faint whirring of the air circulation systems broke the silence. The other
inhabitants of the Lair were asleep, including Felina, for as he passed her
room he caught the gentle purr of a snore from behind her door. It was still
early days since Lion-O’s death, and Tygra was mildly surprised at how well
Felina seemed to be coping. He knew about her nightly tears and was pleased
that this night at least she was able to get some rest. Allowing himself a
moment’s envy at her peace, he passed on down the corridor and made his way up
to the Control Room.
The door opened to admit him into the bright chamber, causing some
surprise to its two inhabitants. Bengali and Pumyra looked up guilty from the
board game they had set up on the floor and both jumped quickly to their feet.
“I, er, we didn’t expect you,” Bengali said hurriedly, vaguely gesturing
to the empty view screen behind him. “We were just--”
Tygra held up an absolving hand. “It’s all right. Anything happening?”
“Pumyra’s just gained control of another galaxy and I’m ten thousand
credits down,” he replied, looking dismally to the game at his feet.
Tygra sighed. “Anything happening on Third Earth?”
“Oh, that.” Ignoring Pumyra’s snigger, Bengali turned to the control
panel and punched several buttons. A map of Third Earth flashed up on the main
screen, reassuringly absent of any warning beacons. “Nope, nothing.” He turned
from the screen and shrugged. “It’s been real quiet now for a while. And it was
kinda boring so we--”
“Yes, that’s fine,” said Tygra. There were probably better ways the
younger tiger could have filled his time, but Tygra felt in no mood to argue
the matter with him. The pair had a conspiratorial gleam in their eyes which
made him suspect that more had been going on before he had entered than
Pumyra’s domination of the board.
That and the uncomfortable memory of his dream, still vivid in his mind,
made him feel strangely lethargic. Arguing with them now would have little
impact on the pair. Bengali had been critical of late, whether by intention or
design, leaving Tygra to wonder what lay behind his remarks.
Then there was the question why Pumyra was up in the middle of the
night. Boring or not, Bengali was more than qualified to handle his stint of
guard duty alone. If she too was having trouble sleeping, he felt the need to
ask the reason.
“It was warm and I didn’t feel tired,” came her answer.
Since the temperature outside the Lair had been chilled by westerly
winds and she had been hard at work reorganising the Lair’s medical supplies
for the better part of a day, Tygra was inclined to disbelieve her. Perhaps he
was just being paranoid, he told himself; not everyone doubted his abilities
and leadership qualities enough to spend night after night awake worrying about
it. Not every member of the Lair was like him.
It did worry him though. If leadership meant only the issuing of orders,
he was sure he could have handled that. But leadership of the Thundercats came
with added responsibilities. They had yet to be put to the test against a band
of marauding Mutants, but come that day he knew the other Thundercats would
live or die by his command. It was an awesome power and a terrifying
responsibility. One mistake could cost one of them their lives and there would
be no one to blame but him. How could he ever live with that? Sobering thoughts
such as that always made Tygra all the more respectful of the Lords that
reigned before him.
Cheetara had been his rock in reassuring him that, while the Thundercats
had the Sword of Omens, good would prevail. He wasn’t sure he quite believed
that, given what she had told him about her vague feelings of trouble ahead. He
believed that she wanted to believe
in him – whether she did was another matter.
And then there was the question of the Sword of Omens. His first
encounter with the weapon had been encouraging. It had received him with a
growl of welcome and in the silence of the Sword Chamber, one had explored the
other’s abilities. On reflection, Tygra had to wonder who had gained the most
from the experience. The power of the Sword had been forceful, demanding more
from him than he felt comfortable with giving. He had resisted and in return he
had sensed a similar rebuttal to his own investigations. He questioned whether
the Sword had been in some way offended and had closed itself to him as he had
to it.
Since then, he had found bonding with the weapon difficult. It did not
spring as readily to his hand as it had to Lion-O’s and it performance had been
lacklustre. The others had noticed it, although had been too polite to say
anything. Cheetara had assured him that such things took time, which he had
interpreted as disappointment. Felina had seemed as though she wanted to say
something, but held her tongue. Certainly, it was a problem. A half-hearted
weapon and an inept leader did not bode well for the future.
That was if they had a future on Third Earth. Reports had filtered back
to Cats’ Lair from their scattered allies that the Mutants were bolder and that
Grune in particular was making himself a nuisance recently. Word was no doubt
getting out, and that would mean their allies would feel vulnerable and unsure
while their enemies would become emboldened. Panthro was all for heading out
and tackling the traitor head-on, to extract revenge for Lion-O’s death and to
show their friends they were still strong – they were still the Thundercats,
sworn upholders of justice and protectors of the meek. Tygra had won the
argument this round, persuading the others that there would be better times to
avenge their fallen friend, but he knew that he was losing the battle. Panthro
was stirring the others into discontent behind his back and he wondered how
long it would be before he was outvoted.
The only thing he could be sure of was that any encounter with Grune now
would be disastrous. Not only because of his problems with the Sword, but also
because they would head into battle ruled by their emotions. One of the first
things that had been drilled into Thundercat trainees was that battles were won
as much by the brain as by the fist. Panthro was a Thundercat of high
principles and great passion that had more than once landed him in deep
trouble. As well meaning as he was, letting him lead the others down the same
path had to be avoided. Tygra had wondered if he had already irredeemably lost
Bengali, who was proving to be one of Panthro’s most vociferous supporters. It
was a concern that would have to be addressed sooner or later, but not tonight.
“Why don’t you two head off to bed?” Tygra said, taking Bengali’s place
at the main consol. “I’ll keep watch.”
“For what?” Bengali countered, that critical edge Tygra had noticed from
before creeping back into his voice. “There’s nothing out there.”
“Well, there will be eventually.”
Bengali folded his arms and proved to be stubbornly obstinate about
leaving. “And who are we expecting? I thought Grune was too busy crowing about
the fact he killed Lion-O to worry about us.”
His expression matched the vehemence he had injected into his words. It
was too late for this, Tygra thought.
“Go to bed,” he ordered sternly. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Why not now? Grune killed Lion-O and we did nothing about it.”
“We will.”
“When? The longer we wait, the weaker we look.”
Tygra shook his head, hearing Panthro’s words coming from the younger
tiger’s mouth. “Not necessarily, Bengali.”
“Oh, really? It looks like we’re afraid of him, Tygra. Are we?” He
paused for a heartbeat. “Are you?”
Tygra rounded on him. “How dare you say that! What do you know?”
Bengali stared defiantly back at him. “Because I’m the new boy? After
all these years, you’ve never really accepted us, have you? And now we’ve got a
voice around here, you don’t like it.”
“Bengali, don’t,” said Pumyra, stepping between the two. “Now isn’t the
time.”
He shoved her aside. “Then when is? I will be heard!”
“Then speak,” Tygra said. “You think you could do a better job of
leading the Thundercats?”
The glow intensified for a fraction of a second in Bengali’s eyes, only
to die away when he shook his head. “No, I don’t. You are the natural choice.
It’s just that you’re so damned pig-headed, Tygra. You ask for our opinion, but
you never listen. You have your own ideas and you stick with them. We might as
well not be here for the notice you take of us.” He sighed. “I’d like to think
that I’m not just the guy who mends the Sword whenever it gets broken around
here.”
It had been brutal, but it had been honest. As aware as he was of his
shortcomings, even Tygra had not realised all the ways he had been failing. He
saw the situation from a logic-ordered distance; it had protected him from the
worse of admitting how deeply Lion-O’s death had affected him. Perhaps if he
had been as honest with himself as Bengali had been with him, then he would
have understood this need to act long before now.
“Is this how you feel too, Pumyra?” he asked her.
She hesitated before nodding a little reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Tygra.
Lion-O was a good friend. To do nothing feels as though we are betraying his
memory.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” said Tygra. “Now I understand, we can plan
our counter-attack.”
“Plan?” said Bengali. “What’s there to plan? Let’s just get out there
and do something!”
“Like rush headlong to our own deaths, you mean?” Tygra frowned. “You’re
right, I do have my ideas about how things should be done. I’m Lord of the
Thundercats; the title gives me that right, because I am responsible. Whatever
we do, we must ensure that we survive to continue Lion-O’s legacy. My lordship
will not be bloodied by headstrong youths intent on righting a wrong at any
cost.”
Bengali glared at him and it was left to Pumyra to diffuse the
situation.
“He’s right, Bengali. There’s nothing to be gained if we get ourselves
killed or violate the Code in the hold of emotion.”
“Now go to bed and get some rest,” Tygra ordered them, grateful that at
least Pumyra was somewhat reasonable. “If we’re going to go chasing after
Grune, we’ll need everyone to be rested and alert.”
“Are you including yourself in that?”
“I’ll manage. Go. You’ve given me plenty to think about.”
The pair reluctantly obeyed and filed in silence out of the Control
Room. Tygra settled into the empty seat and stared thoughtfully at the
undulating map of Third Earth on the main screen. There were a thousand places
to hide and a thousand more in which to be ambushed. Going out looking for
trouble had all the appeal of walking into Mumm-Ra’s Pyramid and hammering on
the old devil’s sarcophagus. There were too many variables, too much that could
go wrong. Lion-O had certainly learned that lesson the hard way. Repeating his
mistake seemed unwise to Tygra, and pig-headed or not, he was loathe to relent
his position on the matter.
Not that those kind of considerations had ever seemed to worry Lion-O.
He had been headstrong and reckless, but above all he had been courageous. A
little thing like failure had never occurred to him, let alone stopped him.
Tygra wondered if his illusions had been wrecked in those final moments as his
life had slipped away. He hoped not. He hoped it had been quick to spare Lion-O
the disappointment. Had he lived, would he have been the same? Probably, Tygra
thought to himself. Lion-O had been the eternal optimist, seeing opportunities
where others saw only stumbling blocks. He’d almost met his end many times
before Grune got the better of him, and remained bold as ever right up to the
end.
The end, when one day he had stumbled. The Sword of Omens and the
leadership of the Thundercats had passed to another. Shame he had not inherited
his optimism too, Tygra reflected. In situations like these, Tygra doubted
whether Lion-O would have found anything to be glad about. No doubt he would
have come up with something. Or perhaps he would have thrown himself into the
task with vigour and little thought to the consequences. That approach certainly
had its advantages. It was possible to be too prepared, after all. Give
something too much thought and it was easy to be talked out of acting on any
situation.
Not that he could find any good reason for not acting now, because the
truth was a key difference between Lion-O’s tragedy and their plan was they
were going to seek out Grune together, not alone. Bengali was right. The longer
the Thundercats failed to respond to this attack on their previously impervious
position, the further they would fall in the eyes and in the respect of Third
Earther and Mutant alike. He knew that, and still he hesitated. Had Bengali
been right about something else too? Was he really afraid of Grune? He wished
he could have answered that question with a hearty denial, but truth be told,
Bengali had hit a raw nerve. He had no fear of confronting him as a Thundercat,
but as Lord of the Thundercats was
something different. Lion-O had been happy to make himself a target, placing
his faith in the Sword of Omens, but as matters now stood between weapon and
wielder, Tygra found he did not share Lion-O’s confidence.
With that thought, Tygra sank back into the chair and closed his eyes.
As Cheetara was fond of telling him, he was not Lion-O nor did anyone expect
him to be. Lion-O had done things his own way, and so must he. The others might
not like it, but he would be the one who had to live with the consequences of
his actions. After all, Lion-O had been killed doing things his way. His
approach had proved to be all too fallible.
So, if action were what the others wanted, then action they would get,
but it would be on his terms. Tomorrow he would call a council meeting and they
would discuss the situation rationally and make their plans. They would prepare
for all eventualities and act accordingly. After that, their fate would be in
the hands of the gods.
Tygra could only hope they would look kindly upon his efforts. The Lair
had seen enough sadness to last it a lifetime. He was determined it would see
no more under his lordship; either that or die trying. Trouble was he had the
sneaking suspicion it was fast coming to that.
The Lair’s alert sensors brought Tygra out of his grim thoughts with a
start. His heart’s pace slowed once more when he observed the approach of Willa
and Nayda on the monitors and made his way downstairs to greet them. He hoped
nothing serious was bringing them out to the Lair at this time of night.
Their expressions were serious when Tygra opened the door to greet the
pair. “Ladies, good evening,” he said, doing his best not to sound panicked.
“Please, come inside.”
He stepped aside, allowing the pair to dutifully file into the shelter
of the Lair and out of the crisp spring night.
Willa turned and looked at Tygra levelly. “Sorry to bother you so late,
but we didn’t feel this should be done over a monitor.”
Tygra managed a thin smile of reassurance. “You haven’t disturbed me.
Someone’s always on watch here, as I’m sure you know. What can I do for you?”
“Is it true?” Nayda suddenly blurted. “Has…has Lion-O been killed?”
Willa cast her sister a stern look, before turning back to face Tygra.
“We came to offer our condolences and assistance, that is, if such awful news
is true.”
Tygra was sure his expression gave it away well enough, but he went ahead
and stated the obvious with a heavy sigh. “Yes. The night of the Berbil
festival Lion-O passed on. It’s true.”
Nayda clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling the sharp gasp that had
escaped her lips. For Willa’s part, Tygra noticed her eyes moisten and she
seemed to have a moment of difficulty finding her voice again.
“We are deeply sorry to hear of it,” she finally managed. “Members of
our tribe had overheard some Mutants speaking of a deadly confrontation between
Lion-O and Grune, and so naturally we didn’t want to believe it until we heard
it from you.” Her eyes fell on the claw shield and the sword sheathed therein,
fastened to Tygra’s thigh and he knew she realized the implication.
“Yes, unfortunately it’s all true. And we suspected that the Mutants had
gotten word. It was only a matter of time. I am,” he added, gesturing to his
newly acquired weaponry, “acting Lord of the Thundercats until Leon comes of
age.”
He hoped he hadn’t sounded too apologetic, but referring to himself with
that title still seemed unnatural to Tygra, and he wondered if he’d ever get
used to it. He could tell the warrior women before him were still absorbing the
shock of the news, and he couldn’t read in them what their reaction to his
announcement truly was.
“The cubs,” Nayda interjected. “How are they faring?”
“As well as can be expected. We would have told you ourselves, but we’re
still in mourning. I hope you understand.”
Willa nodded soberly. “Pardon us if we have intruded. But know that we
are available for anything you may need, our alliance with the Thundercats
unshaken. We’ll keep close tabs on the Mutants – and Grune if he can be tracked
– and report anything we find back to you.”
It did Tygra a world of good to know the news of his Lordship hadn’t
effected their status as allies, although he was sure Cheetara would have
thought him silly for thinking such a thing in the first place. As he
graciously accepted their offer and escorted them back out the door, Tygra knew
he had to get a grip on his insecurities, or his doom-and-gloom prophecies
would become self-fulfilling.
*******************
Lion-O had a lot of time to think on the Astral Plane. And the more he
thought about his encounter with Felina, her dream, and the note, the more
concerned he became. He’d thought the disturbing turn the dream he’d invaded
had taken was the result of her troubled mind, but given some offhand things
Jaga had mentioned about that form of communication, he wondered if his
presence hadn’t sparked a prophetic dream of sorts in Felina. If so, it didn’t
bode well for those left behind. He knew he had something dire to tell her now,
as she surely wasn’t aware of its prophetic potential like he was. Odds were,
she’d written it off as well if she even remembered it at all.
But, the only one he could really get through to easily was Jonca.
However, she couldn’t hear him. It was always something! Out of desperation
realization dawned, as if parting the astral mists that he wandered, and he
chastised himself for not thinking of it before. Because of Velouria, everyone
in the Lair was adept at sign language. Of course! He could sign his message to
Jonca and ask her to bring it to the others. He simply hoped the message wasn’t
too scary for his daughter to handle. He didn’t want to frighten her, but if
trouble lay in the future for the Thundercats and he knew about it, he had to
try to warn them as sure as Jaga would have appeared to Lion-O whenever he knew
of dangers that lie ahead.
Once again, he willed his spirit back to the familiar halls of Cats
Lair, passing by Tygra who was coming down the hall from the Control Room. At
this early hour, it was easily assumed that Tygra must have had night watch
duties. Lion-O noticed he wore the shield and sword, and also sensed thanks to
the extra awareness the astral world bestowed on its denizens, a heaviness and
dread in Tygra’s heart. But then, given the added responsibility Tygra now
shouldered, should it be any wonder?
Lion-O continued on his journey, content to leave Tygra ignorant of his
spirit’s presence. Not that he could do much about it either way. After some
roaming, he found his daughter in the kitchen. Some rustling about could be
heard from a pantry adjacent to the room, and Lion-O soon realized it was Snarf
causing all the racket when he heard a mild oath amid all the clanging and
banging about.
Jonca was sitting on a stool in front of a table where it appeared Snarf
had laid out some of the items necessary for preparation of the breakfast meal.
She donned Snarf’s old chef’s hat, and idly played with a ball of dough,
causing it to roll from one of her palms to the other.
It took a moment for her to sense his presence, but when she looked at
him he knew she could still see him, and Lion-O couldn’t resist flashing a
broad grin her way. She visibly brightened, but a quick motion to signify she
shouldn’t say anything stopped any greeting she may have planned. Given what
happened between her and her brother last time he’d appeared, Lion-O thought it
best that a scene not be made lest Snarf should come back into the kitchen.
He went about the best way he knew how to get his message out without
causing too much alarm. He just hoped the others would listen to her.
***************
Felina had been searching the Lair for one person in particular, finally
deciding to confront them for their well-meaning actions. The slip of paper
she’d found in her hand after that fitful amount of sleep the night before had
weighed at her mind and nagged her conscience, until she retrieved the crumpled
paper from the corner she’d relegated it to, and sought out the good Samaritan
she concluded must have left it there.
Rounding the corner into the lounge, she heard Snarf telling someone
breakfast was ready. And that someone was just who she’d been looking for --
Cheetara. As she approached, Snarf reiterated his message to her and she
responded with a slight nod. But, rather than heading back to the kitchen,
Snarf seemed content to linger. Felina supposed it didn’t matter if he heard
what she had to say for she felt she had to get it off her chest before she
lost her courage.
“Cheetara, I’d like a word with you,” she said, keeping her voice low
and even. A glance cast down at Snarf did nothing in the way of hinting it was
preferred that this was a private word. In fact, the glance only seemed to
pique Snarf’s curiosity, as no doubt he sensed Felina’s tense mood. And looking
at Cheetara’s face, Felina knew she was as readable as an open tome.
“Of course. What’s troubling you?”
Felina licked her parched lips and offered up the crumpled paper,
expecting to see recognition in Cheetara’s eyes. Instead, she only saw
curiosity mixed with mild confusion in her friend.
“What is it?” Cheetara asked, and Felina listened hard for any trace of
feigned innocence in her tone.
“When I awoke from a dream the other night, this had been put in my
hand,” Felina explained. “It’s part of an old note Lion-O wrote to me years
ago.”
Cheetara took the offered note, flattened it out as best she could,
while Felina waited patiently for Cheetara to read it over. Cheetara remained
quiet for a moment, while Snarf strained to raise himself up high enough to
also read the note.
“It’s a beautiful sentiment,” Cheetara finally said. “But I don’t
understand. What does this have to do with me?”
Felina wasn’t sure if it was the stress of the recent events, her lack
of quality sleep, or any number of other negative factors, but she suddenly
found herself working up to becoming quite upset and angry.
“You act as though you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“Listen, I know you meant well. I really do especially after I carried
about hearing him over the radio. And please forgive me for being upset in
light of that but I have to be honest; putting the note in my hand as though to
remind me that he cared is actually making everything worse.” There. She said
it. Maybe not as gently or as eloquently as she’d liked, but it was out there.
Cheetara glanced down at the note with puzzlement before surrendering it
to a curious Snarf. “I hate to tell you this, but I’ve never seen that piece of
paper in my life. If someone was trying to send you message of comfort, it
wasn’t me.”
Felina was stunned. She’d thought about it and knew that Cheetara was
really the only logical suspect in the matter. Maybe she didn’t know about the
notes or where Felina had kept them, but that merely meant she likely had a
conspirator. Felina turned her suspicious eyes on Snarf.
“You. You helped her find the note, didn’t you?” That would explain his
lingering for the conversation, to Felina’s mind.
Snarf’s head jerked up, his eyes going wide before narrowing at Felina.
“I did no such thing. Fine thing, being accused before there’s proof. And at a
time like this, like I haven’t got enough to worry about.”
Felina grimaced, in no mood for Snarf’s dramatics. “Then tell me – how
did that get in my hand if neither of you were involved.”
Snarf glanced up at Cheetara and shrugged. “Sleep walking?”
Felina scoffed at the notion. “You really think it’s that simple?”
“Sounds simpler than the conspiracy theory you cooked up,” Snarf
responded bluntly. “And you’re certainly prone to sleepwalk. You even wandered
off when you were in labor with the twins—“
“Enough.” Felina cut him off before he launched into a rehash of that
old story. But, he was right, and Felina wasn’t sure if her face was burning
more with embarrassment or anger.
Cheetara approached, sympathy shining in her eyes. “Felina,” she began
gently, reaching out to put her hands on Felina’s shoulders. “Maybe you need
more rest—“
Felina pushed away, resentful that rest was always Cheetara’s universal
solution. “Stop telling me what I need.”
As Felina turned to stalk out of the room, she found Jonca standing
shyly in the doorway, and her demeanor softened. Felina hoped she hadn’t been
standing there long suddenly feeling renewed embarrassment at her own behavior.
The child fidgeted with her tunic as she looked nervously from one adult
to the other before speaking. “I need to tell you something, mom.”
Felina went to the girl and knelt before her. “Of course, honey. What is
it?”
“I’m worried. Dad said we have to be careful about Grune or bad things
are going to happen,” she confided in a rush.
Felina nodded. “Your dad was worried about Grune. He was tracking Grune
when he…when he passed on.”
Jonca shook her head. “No, he said this today when I talked to him.”
A strangled note out of Snarf’s throat was the only sound in reaction at
first.
Felina swallowed hard, aware of the trouble between Jonca and her
brother over supposed sightings of Lion-O’s ghost. It wasn’t beyond belief, she
knew, but something didn’t add up. “Jonca, I thought you told the kids you
couldn’t hear him when he appeared.”
“I can’t,” she admitted. “But he started talking like Velouria does
today and that’s what he told me I had to tell you.”
Jonca looked so earnest it broke Felina’s heart. She didn’t believe
Jonca could really see Lion-O’s spiritual form. Rather, she chalked it up to a
child’s vivid imagination coupled with wishful thinking. It didn’t make sense
for him to burden a child with something that ominous, Felina concluded. The
fact that the ‘warning’ mentioned Grune struck Felina as a manifestation of the
child’s anxiety from the manner in which Lion-O had died. Of course the girl
would fear the one who took her father from them. That’d explain the content of
the message, anyway.
Jonca scowled in response to Felina’s gentle smile. “You don’t believe
me.”
Felina didn’t have to say it. Her piteous expression conveyed everything
child suspected. “Run along to breakfast. We’ll talk about it afterward.”
“I’m not hungry,” Jonca muttered before leaving.
Felina felt horrible, but she saw no value in humouring the child by
entertaining her fantasies about her dead father. She turned, looking to
Cheetara and Snarf for support but the duo simply looked shell shocked from the
revelations, Cheetara in particular.
“You don’t think she sees him, do you?”
Cheetara bit her lip and looked away, which made Felina feel uneasy.
Cheetara wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “It’s cold in here,” she
remarked before adding a trailing comment about seeing everyone at breakfast
and making an altogether awkward exit.
Snarf had his own exiting commentary to add as he followed Cheetara out,
past Felina. “We all need a shrink.”
***********************
In the heart of darkness, nothing stirred. No breeze dared penetrate the
thick stone walls of the mighty pyramid. No spider chanced to construct his web
on the cold, silent statues. Time passed and, beyond its walls life moved on,
grateful that the most potent force for evil that Third Earth had ever seen was
stilled and locked in his tomb.
Then, one day, a slight bump appeared in the thick viscous surface of
the cauldron. It grew into a bulge, as the pressure of the air beneath forced
its way to the surface. Finally, with an impressive pop, it burst, releasing
its foul odours into the air. Seconds later, another bulge appeared and it too
added its stench to the growing miasma in the air. Others hurried to follow
this lead until the surface of the cauldron was a boiling mass of escaping
bubbles. Fluid slopped over its sides and wetted the towering statues of the
Ancient Spirits of Evil. The smell of static electricity added to the stink as
lightning crackled in the space between the statues. From silence into chaos, the
pyramid came back to life and with it came Mumm-Ra, the Ever-Living.
He emerged from his sarcophagus a withered wrecked. And like an insect
stretching its wings after escaping its cocoon, so too did Mumm-Ra extend his
arms to the unseen heavens and beseech his evil masters for their powers.
Lightning struck him and invigorated him, inflating his decayed limbs until his
body was restored.
He surveyed himself with some interest, recapturing the memory of powers
that seemed now more intense. His physical body felt and looked larger,
stronger. His imposed rest had clearly done him no harm. While he had been
forced to hide away in his sarcophagus, the Ancient Spirits had recharged his
powers, making him feel more alive than he had in years. A strange choice of
words, he thought with a chuckle, but then it had been many years since he had
‘lived’ in the real sense of that word. Years had gone by without him, he
sensed. Years the Thundercats had taken that from him. But now he was back and
his thoughts turned to his enemy.
He watched the events of the past ten years replay in the seething waters of his cauldron. Mostly, it was an endless litany of failure on the Mutants’ part, with only that wretch, Grune, showing any promise.