Signal in the Sky: Shadow Play

Chapter 36 of Signal in the Sky

Put It Behind You
By Purrsia Kat & Spaced Angel

From her position at the head of the council table, Lynxana eyed the young man at the other end of the room with a mixture of irritation and growing hostility. He spoke well enough and put his case firmly. For all she cared, he could have been putting forward a proposal for a new irrigation system for the farmers to the north or suggesting a trading partnership for New Thundera. Except what he had to say was much more inflammatory. She tried to ignore it, but increasingly she was finding it hard to contain her temper.

“And in times past,” he went on, “the Thundercats were our warriors, the cream of our nobility. From their ranks was drawn the best, the finest and the bravest. They protected the innocent and upheld justice. Theirs was a code that stood for truth, justice, honour and loyalty. They protected Thundera and led us to safety.”

It was a bitter gall to have to swallow and Lynxana was sick to death of hearing this nostalgic nonsense.

“Led who exactly to safety?” she said, sitting up in her chair. “By all accounts, they took off in their own ship without a slightest regard for anyone else. Certainly, they ‘led’ none of us here. We managed on our own.”

The young man flushed a bright red. “Forgive me, councilor. I meant no disrespect.”

“Really?” she said icily. “Tell me, Torr, what is the point of this…” She sought the right word. “This history lesson?”

“In times past,” he said hurriedly, stumbling over his words.

“Forget the past,” Lynxana snapped, cutting him short. “This is now, Torr. This is the present. There are no Thundercats here. Or what are you suggesting?”

“That we attempt to find them, councilor.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Why?”

Torr’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Clearly he had not given enough thought to that. “Because they were our defenders, our warriors. Do we not owe them the effort?”

“We have warriors, ones that are not afraid to fight, Torr. Ones who will not flee a dying planet and leave people behind to fend for themselves.”

“The Lord of the Thundercats--“

“Is dead,” Lynxana said firmly. “His ship was destroyed along with many others.”

“With all due respect,” came a voice from her left, “we do not know that for certain. At best we can say Lord Claudus and his heir are unaccounted for.”

Lynxana glanced at the speaker, a trim tigress called Cerise. She had much respect for her, as a scientist and a friend. On her advice, she had allowed Torr to come before the Council of New Thundera to present his case. Someone was sure to bring up the issue of Thundercats sooner or later, Cerise had said. Better that it was dealt with now, rather than to allow resentment to fester.

What was needed was a clean break with the past. The Thundercats were gone, along with Thundera. They had a new planet now, new lives, and new leadership. There would be no going back to the days of over-privileged nobles lording it over the rest of the population. Little naïve Torr here didn’t know the first thing about Thundercats, Lynxana thought bitterly, or how they really selected their elite. It was elitism, all right, with a healthy dose of politics and sexism mixed in she believed. And all so the fat ‘Cats could enjoy status, only turning out to fight the odd Mutant when and if they felt like it.

To think, there was a time when Lynxana had wanted nothing more than to be among their number. Some may say her rejection from their order colored her opinion of them, many of those present knowing full well how she felt and the history of it all, but no. More than ever Lynxana firmly believed that the Thundercats were outdated relics and as the refugees continued to thrive here without them, she was more apt to leave the concept behind her and never look back. Their solid belief in themselves was worth far more to her than believing in any Code or elite upholders thereof.

The government they had in place involved all and were answerable to all. Lynxana knew that certain among the Thunderians disliked the fact that she had found herself a place as nominal head of the Council, but that at least they could not argue that she had not deserved it. It had taken blood, sweat and tears to round up a fragmented people and find them a habitable planet on which to begin their new lives. The least she deserved was some recognition for her efforts, which had been considerable.

All of that went to her present disappointment with Cerise. Why side with this young fool, some half-grown boy who was in love with some superhero image, and his hankering for the past? Of all the people around this table, she thought in Cerise at least she had one ally. On one point she could find common ground with the Thundercats – in her belief in the importance of loyalty. If she was about to be stabbed in the back, she wanted to know why.

“I merely suggest,” Cerise said in answer to her question, “that it is possible that the Lord of the Thundercats did survive.”

“I believe this to be true,” spoke up Torr in all earnestness.

“Do you?” said Lynxana. “And what are you basing that on?”

He smiled the serene smile of someone totally confident of his convictions. “I know it in here,” he said, placing his hand on his heart. “So great a soul as the Lord of the Thundercats would not be so easily destroyed by his enemies.”

Lynxana snorted. “He was flesh and blood like the rest of us. He was not invincible. No one is.” She glared at the others around the table, daring them to say otherwise. “And if they are alive, why haven’t they found us? The homing signal is working, I suppose?”

Cerise nodded. As its designer and creator, no one was better placed to know whether it was performing or not. “It is,” she confirmed. “Only a week ago, twenty-two Thunderian survivors followed its signal to find us.”

Lynxana grunted her approval.

Torr simply saw it as encouragement. “You see, if others are still filing in after all this time, who’s to say the Thundercats won’t ever be among them?”

Lynxana glared, and looked to Cerise for a little help shooting the dreamer down but found none. At least the others in the chamber knew enough to stay out of it for now. She half expected Jagara in particular, to have something to put in, and most likely not in support of Lynxana’s position. The old jaguar mystic had a long history with the Thundercats and Lynxana feared a sentimental appeal that so far, luckily, had not been vocalized. That was one small thing to be grateful for.

“Although it is possible,” Cerise went on, “that the signal may not be of sufficient strength to have covered the distance between our home and that where the Thundercats may be, shall we optimistically assume, marooned.”

“You doubt your own work?”

“No. But I have seen too much change to believe in certainties.”

She held Lynxana’s gaze steadily, not seeking to challenge, but merely to make sure that her words were understood. Lynxana sat back in her chair and considered the instigator of this drama.

“I grant that there is a chance that all or some of the Thundercats live, albeit a very slim one. If so, what do you suggest, Torr?”

“That we try to find them!” he said enthusiastically.

“How?”

Again, his mouth flapped open. A typical idealist, thought Lynxana. Big on ideas yet short on the practicalities.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

Warming to her subject, Lynxana leant forward and rested her arms on the table, fixing Torr with a disarming smile. “Let’s see. A search operation would need ships. They would need fuel and a crew to fly them. Furthermore, the universe is quite a huge haystack – we haven’t the slightest clue where they might be assuming they still exist at all. The expense would be great. On top of that, we have Thunderian refugees trickle in all the time, meaning more ‘mere’ citizens are wandering around out there. It would only be fair, to try to find everyone, no? The Thundercats certainly shouldn’t be shown favoritism. Now, on one hand, I have appeals for better facilities, a bigger school, more medical supplies. On the other, I have your petition for a search and rescue operation for a group of people who may or may not be alive. Tell me, Torr, what am I to do?”

“What if I could get proof?” he said.

“If and when you do,” Lynxana said, “we’ll talk again.”

She leveled the tone of her voice, firmly suggesting that it was time for him to leave. Torr gave his thanks for being allowed to address the Council and went on his way. As the door closed behind him, Lynxana sighed.

“Thundera save us from dreamers,” she said.

“The boy raised a valid concern,” said Jagara, causing Lynxana to wince. “The Thundercats are an important part of our heritage. Many have questioned what is to be done in their absence.”

“From a military point of view, I believe we have that angle covered,” said Cerise.

Jagara smiled sagely. “Actually, I was thinking more in terms of leadership.” Her gaze inevitably turned to Lynxana. “The Thundercats were born to lead.”

Lynxana stiffened. “And you think I’m not?” she retorted. “Leaders are forged in the fire of experience, Jagara, not sentiment and tradition. Leadership must be learned, not bred. Would you prefer to be led by a noble fool or a wise pauper?”

“Claudus was both wise and noble,” she said reasonably. “In the due course of time, the son would have succeeded the father.”

“Except that neither have been seen since Thundera exploded.”

Lynxana got to her feet, tired and agitated by this line of discussion. So what if this child of the father was out there somewhere? Did the others seriously expect that she would stand by and let some outsider take the credit for all her hard work? Just hand it over because some noble brat sauntered in after the labor was done? Never. She did not see her role as merely keeping someone else’s throne warm for them.

“We tried living under a monarchy, councilors,” she said, addressing the gathering. “That way of life, like the planet on which it was practised, is now gone. We are the future. We are here because we have proved ourselves worthy, because we are survivors. One day others might follow our example and sit around this table to help decide the fate of our people, but they won’t do so with absolution ever again if I have anything to say about it. Remember, it was the nobles that assured us Thundera was fine and almost didn’t order the evacuation until you were all destroyed!”

Lynxana had her suspicions about why they stalled around, and considered them lucky she was in exile at the time or she, for starters, wouldn’t have let them get away with it. She’d always loved Thundera and its people. It was the old governing body and their ways with which she could not reconcile. “From the ashes of the old, the new has risen. We are equal and we are alive. What else do we need?”

She was pleased to hear murmurs of ascent from around the table. Some agreed with her. Others chose to reserve their judgement. That was their prerogative. However much they might hanker after their Lords and nobles, the reality was that that way of life had been consumed in the death throes of an imploding planet. What they had created here was something to be proud of, not to be distained by comparison with what had gone before. It was the contempt that disgusted her more than the lack of respect to herself and the others who had made it possible. She tried to tell herself that it did not matter, but it still rankled.

“Are we finished here?” she asked, needing to escape from the narrow minds around her. “Then as leader of this council, I declare this meeting at an end.”

Chairs scraped the floor as the other councilors got to their feet. She was fractionally quicker in making it to the door and was out before any of the others. She found safety and solitude in her room and closed the door on the world outside. No one had ever said it was going to be easy. Not that anyone could claim that her life had been easy. Overlooked and ignored in favour of a less deserving brother – the token female position among the Thundercats apparently already filled - she had had to resort to open war before anyone had taken any notice of her. After the smoke had died down, she still had not won, but everyone knew her name. She would not be overlooked again. Even after years in exile, they knew her. The children had whispered her name on that first Thunderian ship she had encountered, struggling in an unforgiving universe. Lynxana, they had whispered, she’s tough. Don’t mess with her. As epitaphs went, she could not have hoped for better. But she was a seasoned survivor and showed them how to do the same.

Since then, she had noticed how familiarity had bred contempt. They had gone from being in awe of her and grateful for her assured aid, to questioning her suitability. Long ago, she had accepted she would always be an outsider, but just lately she had caught herself becoming nicely domesticated. The wanderer within her had found a place to settle and had no desire to move on yet. If the Thundercats did return, she knew she could not stay. They would uphold the old laws and send her back into exile. Unlike Torr, she had no illusions about the old nobility or their notions of right and wrong. She hoped they were dead. If they lived, then she would lose everything.

The soft sound of a knock at her door startled her from her bleak thoughts. At her call, the door opened and Cerise took a step over the threshold.

“Mind if I join you?”

Lynxana shrugged. She watched as Cerise collected a drink from the cabinet, her orange and black-striped pony tail swinging from side to side with every step, until she settled down in the yielding embrace of the chair opposite.

“Why?” Lynxana asked finally.

Cerise looked up in some surprise. “Why what?”

“You know.”

“I do not.”

“Why did you set me up today?”

Cerise considered the slowly-swirling contents of her glass. “Because you needed it.”

“Are you telling me I was humiliated for my own good?”

“Yes, and if you weren’t so pig-headed, you would see that for yourself.”

Lynxana sank back into her chair and drained the contents of her glass.

“It was always a possibility,” said Cerise. “Alive or dead, the issue of the Thundercats has to be faced.”

“I hope they’re all dead, festering on a gods-forsaken planet somewhere with a horde of Mutants chewing on their bones!”

Cerise smiled. They had had this conversation before.

“Couldn’t you have told me this instead of having that whey-faced boy Torr make a public statement before the Council?” Lynxana went on.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t have listened. You never listen.”

“I do!”

“You like to pretend it isn’t happening. I was… concerned for you.”

Lynxana snorted. “Concerned enough to see those fools try to belittle me.”

“And now our policy about the Thundercats is a matter of public record. If anyone has any questions, they now have an answer.” She grinned. “You handled the situation very well, by the way. No one could fault your reasoning.”

“It appealed to your sense of logic, did it?” Though Cerise would cry stereotype on her clan, Lynxana couldn’t help but agree logic and brains were some of Cerise’s best strengths.

“Something like that.” She emptied her glass and put it carefully down on the table beside her. “What will you do? If the Thundercats do return, I mean.”

“I don’t know.”

“As you said, what happened in the past is gone.”

Lynxana shook her head. “They have long memories. They won’t let me or anyone else forget. Still,” she said, managing a half-hearted smile, “I am happy to bet that they too are history.”

Cerise frowned. “I would say the odds of them surviving are something like fifty to one, an even chance, the same as we all had.”

“You survived on those odds,” Lynxana reminded her.

“So we did. What a very sobering thought.” She glanced at her empty glass. “Another drink?”

While Cerise fetched the flask, Lynxana asked, “What will you do if they return?”

“Oh I don’t know. See if they want an on-staff scientist in their Lair? I always heard they build a fabulous lab.” She flashed Lynxana a toothy grin to let her know she wasn’t entirely serious.

“Traitor!” Lynxana shouted with mock fury.

Lynxana lazily held out her glass as Cerise filled it with a ruby red liquid. When it was full almost to overflowing, she raised it up.

“A toast,” she said. “To the past. May it stay where it belongs.”

“Including the Thundercats?” asked Cerise.

“Good luck to them, if they are alive. But I don’t want them back. Let them stay where they are. We’ve no room for them here on our Thundera. We’re too busy moving on to start looking back.”

“Then we should drink to the future,” said Cerise, holding up her own glass. “May it be Thundercat free.”

Lynxana grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”

*******************

Across the solar system, Lynxana had no idea how right she was about at least the Lord of the Thundercats. He’d passed on, but the cruelest part of his fate was yet to unfold.

In a sad and lonely place, Jaga watched a never-ending cycle of struggle and failure play out over and over again. The fight that would always be lost pained him to see. It was nothing more than a desperate last attempt to snatch victory from the hands of defeat. The surprise that showed on his face as the ground vanished beneath him and Lion-O, once Lord of the Thundercats, plummeted to the rocky ground below with a cry, the last sound he would ever make. Death would come swiftly to claim the vanquished and soon Lion-O would rise again to challenge a shadowy enemy and know the bitter taste of defeat.

Jaga watched this soul in torment play out its own death, as it would until time itself ceased to exist. He had seen others trapped in this round of death and struggle. He had seen some who were little more than disembodied voices and footsteps without feet, worn away to nothing. The longer it was allowed to continue, the harder it would be to bring it to an end.

Lion-O would need help and fast, before he was lost forever. It would be difficult. Everything Jaga had been able to learn about the subject suggested that there were dangers for both of them. He would have to confront Lion-O, face his aggression and make him come to terms with his death. Revelation could bring madness and Lion-O could be lost to him, condemned to remain little more than a consciousness that drifted the Astral Plain, alone and bereft. There were worse fates, Jaga told himself, but not many. It was a risk he had to take on Lion-O’s behalf. He could only hope that good fortune would shine on his efforts.

He descended to the jagged rocks and waited for the inevitable. High above, he saw the signs of the struggle in the glimpses of flailing hands and the shower of pebbles that began to rain down. Then came Lion-O, his arms wind-milling in a futile attempt to defy gravity. His body hit the rocks with a sickening thud and he moved no more. A red halo formed around his head and began to spread, a lake of blood that reached out to Jaga’s feet. Before it could reach him, it faded and vanished, and the broken body twitched and came to life. Lion-O’s eyes opened and one name was on his lips.

“Grune.”

“He is not here,” said Jaga.

“I must stop him,” Lion-O said, oblivious to his presence. “He’s in the way. He must be dealt with once and for all.”

He would have started down the path, but Jaga put himself in his way.

“No, Lion-O.”

A look of annoyance flashed across his face. “Jaga, I don’t have time to talk now. I know where Grune is, and he’s threatened me and my family for the last time. I have to stop him. Out of my way!”

“You fought Grune,” Jaga said calmly. “You were defeated.”

Lion-O vigorously shook his head. “I got to face him and I have to do it alone, so don’t try to help me. We have to find a way to get home. For Felina and the children’s sake, I have to do this.”

“You tried, Lion-O. Don’t you remember?” He gestured to the spot where only a moment before the tragedy had played out. At his command, the ether obliged and once again the scene was laid out before them. “Here, you died, my young friend.”

Lion-O turned reluctantly and caught his breath at the sight of his own body, spread-eagled across the shards of rock. The head was twisted at an unnatural angle, the arms and legs bent backwards and that ever-widening pool of blood painting the stones in shades of lurid red.

“No,” said Lion-O. “That’s not what happened. Grune wants me to think that’s what happened – another of his sneering taunts. I’ll show him once and for all that I can face him myself and I can defeat him. Good, it always triumphs. Always.”

Jaga grabbed him by the shoulders. “Look into your heart! See the truth, Lion-O.”

“I cannot.”

“Because you choose not to? Because you’d rather lie to yourself that this did not happen? Your pride is still blinding you, Lion-O. You were the Lord of the Thundercats. Uphold the Code of Thundera. Truth, Lion-O, truth!”

Lion-O pushed him roughly away. “Your truth, old man! This cannot be. I have a wife and children.” His breathing was ragged as though a greater emotion was tugging at his heart, and Jaga did not take his roughness to heart. So many believe the trauma is over for the victim when the heart stops beating but so often, it has only just begun. “I was trying to make things better,” Lion-O said at last in a voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to leave them.”

He understood, thought Jaga, and yet continued with this mockery of a life lost. Perhaps what was holding him here was not disbelief, but something more potentially destructive.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

Lion-O looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I can make it right. Don’t you see? If I can defeat Grune, none of this will have ever happened.”

This time it was Jaga’s turn to show surprise. He had anticipated despair, but not hope, as powerful an addiction as any drug. While he clung to this belief, he would ever be a prisoner in this place. Listening to Lion-O’s insane ramblings and his assurances that this time he would win, Jaga knew what it was to be helpless. With hope this strong and this desperate, nothing he could say was going to sway Lion-O’s resolve.

“This time,” Lion-O was saying as he pushed past him and headed up the track. “I know where I’ve been going wrong. This time, I’ll win.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Jaga called after him.

“I’ll keep trying until I succeed. And I will, I’m sure of it!”

Jaga followed him, not knowing what to do for the best. Lion-O was adamant and confident of victory. Words were not enough. Only action would save Lion-O now.

As the shape of Grune rose up ready for the battle, Jaga called upon the psychic energies of the Astral Plain. If Lion-O wanted to win, then win he must and then he would have to face the consequences. For now, however, all this thoughts were on the fight. Lion-O flung himself at the apparition, battling shadows with shadow weapons and utter self-belief. For Jaga, controlling his opponent soon drained his strength and he could not match the skill or stamina of the Grune of Lion-O’s memory for much longer. Sensing his weakness, Lion-O fought like a demon and Jaga was forced to give up the unequal struggle. With one swipe of the Sword of Omens, the apparition vanished. Jaga collapsed while Lion-O stood staring at where his enemy had been, breathing hard.

“Yes!” he declared. “I have won!”

“And yet you are still here,” said Jaga weakly from where he lay nearby.

Lion-O acted as though he had not heard him. “I have won!” he said again. “I am free! Everything…everything is right again, as it should be.”

“Are you? Nothing has changed. Look around you.”

With that, the ghost of Grune rose again. Lion-O reeled back, shock showing on his face. Too weak to help him, Jaga watched as events played out again, ending as it had in life, with Grune’s hands around Lion-O’s throat. In another moment, he would be thrown down into the chasm and the torment would begin again. Mercilessly, Grune hurled his opponent into space. Lion-O vanished from sight with a cry that ended abruptly with a distant thud.

Jaga drew on what little remained of his energy to drag himself down to the rocks. As before, the body laid still, blood seeping from its wounds. Except this time when Lion-O awoke, other words were on his lips.

“It didn’t work,” he said.

“No,” said Jaga. “I’m sorry.”

“I defeated him. I’m still here. Why, Jaga?”

“Because you are dead, Lion-O. This way will not lead you back to your family.”

Lion-O looked at him with the pleading eyes of the cub he had once been. “What am I going to do?”

Jaga reached out to him, a lost soul desperate for his help and guidance. “You must come with me. There is nothing for you here. It’s time to move on.”

“How?”

Jaga smiled. “I will show you, Lion-O. Come, my friend, it’s time to go.”

************************

Jax followed Grune into their cave hide-a-way, straining to hear what the big Thunderian muttered under his breath.

Grune hadn’t been in a good mood since the other Mutants dumped him here and he’d awoken, first disoriented, then angry. For Jax’s part, he’d wished he could have come along on the last mission and was a little hurt himself that Grune didn’t have him along. Especially when he caught the part of Grune’s muttering that referred to some kind of plan gone wrong. Jax felt that he was as good as new since he’d recovered from his role in the events at the badlands – that young male Thunderian hadn’t been easy to tackle, but he was proud that he not only did it, but mustered the stealth and strength to do it a second time despite the pain – and thought maybe he’d earned some respect.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this Thunderian didn’t care either.

“It should have been easy!” Grune barked as he turned round to face Jax in the middle of the cave, the sudden sharpness of it causing Jax to jump.

Jax’s wide, yellow eyes fixed on Grune’s as he waited wordlessly for the saber tooth to continue his rant.

“Getting rid of Lion-O, that was the hard part. Those other Thundercats should have been a day at the park! Ah, I should have taken the Sword of Omens when I had the chance.”

Before Grune could go on, a cloaked figure appeared in the cave with them amid a flash of light and puff of red smoke. Jax recognized the mummy wizard and, almost without thinking about it, took a few good steps away from him. Mumm-Ra was someone Jax hadn’t seen in a long time, and he’d hoped to keep it that way. But, he also remembered it was Mumm-Ra’s powerful magic that had sent him back to Plundarr when he was a boy so Jax figured it was best not to draw attention to himself. Plundarr was one place he surely never wanted to return to.

Lucky for Jax, Mumm-Ra barely spared him a glance before putting all his attention on Grune.

“Have you forgotten what we discussed?”

Grune glared at Mumm-Ra. “I know, I know. We were just ‘testing’ Tygra but what a waste of time and energy if you ask me. Crush them when you have the chance, I say.”

Mumm-Ra chuckled in a low, amused tone that sent a shiver up Jax’s spine. “Like you did WilyKat?” Mumm-Ra savored Grune’s annoyed scowl a moment before going on. “Sometimes there’s more value in letting an enemy suffer before you vanquish them. A little more patience and we will have them and all of Third Earth, begging for mercy.”

Grune roared in frustration. “I’m tired of waiting. Yes, getting rid of that smug excuse of a leader they had was cathartic, but the joy of it is waning. I want to see the entire clan of the Thundercats brought to their knees, shown for the weak hypocrites they. Then I’ll crush each one under my boot.”

“In due time,” Mumm-Ra reiterated, with a threat of warning in his tone that made Jax shrink back a little. “There is discord between Tygra and the younger tiger. There is still much grief, upheaval, and uncertainty among them all. They are not at their strongest, and now that I know there’s a world of difference between Lion-O wielding the Sword and Tygra wielding the Sword, we have every advantage. Evil does its best work when praying on the raw emotions of others and the hasty decisions they make when under that kind of stress. An opportunity will open for us, soon I feel, and we must be ready to strike.”

Grune snarled and grunted his begrudged agreement.

“But,” Mumm-Ra cautioned, “we also must learn from one of their long-time greatest strengths and that is working together. Lion-O broke that mantra, and paid a high price. If we stick to our plan to assault them as a united front, our chances of taking advantage when the time is right are staggering. Don’t blow it by coming all this way and getting impatient, Thunderian.”

“I’ll wait,” Grune conceded. “But not forever.”

“Good. In the meantime, we could use your new friend.”

Mumm-Ra and Grune looked to Jax, and he worried about what they had in mind.

“Go. Slink about in the wilds and find out the source of this discord between the two tigers. Report back to us anything useful.”

At least this was something Jax could handle. Watching without being seen was something he had been doing for years. He simply nodded his acceptance of the role, his voice unwilling to cooperate under such heavy scrutiny, before dashing off.

**********

Panthro had been put in charge of rounding up the children and laying down the law before the adults went to the Treetop Kingdom tonight. He’d looked in all the usual places in the Lair, and so far hadn’t found a single cub for his efforts. It was now that he regretted not simply paging them from the control room.

It was time to start checking the unlikely places. Panthro strode into the Council Chamber and sure enough, there sat at least one cub in a seat that threatened to swallow her up. Jonca was looking over a book and didn’t appear to notice Panthro’s entrance. Nor did she glance up when he gruffly cleared his throat as an attention getter.

“Hey,” he said, feeling a bit guilty when she startled. “What are you doing with that?” Panthro noticed it wasn’t just any ordinary book the girl studied, but the Book of Omens itself.

The child paused before sheepishly offering the obvious answer. “Reading it?”

Panthro grunted impatiently, and wondered for a moment where he had ever found the patience for his own kids. He supposed it was different when they were your own, especially when one was younger, had more energy and time to indulge them. “No joke. I mean, where did you get that? I thought we put that up—“

His inquisition was halted when the person he wanted to see least at that time breezed in, the other two cubs in tow.

“Oh good, there you are Panthro,” Felina said. “I managed to run into these two and thought I’d help you out by rounding them up. Snarf said you’d come this way.”

Panthro noted she wasn’t entirely finished fussing over her appearance for the occasion, and knew why he’d been elected child wrangler for the evening. Getting ready was quick and painless for him, which was the way it should be in his mind. He hoped she’d be in a rush to finish up, and not notice the Book lying there that they’d been trying to keep from her. That hope was dashed when he saw her gaze fall to her daughter, then to what lay out before her.

He said nothing as Felina came around to her daughter’s side and laid a hand on the tome. A curious look of concern flashed over Felina’s features, and Panthro heard her mutter something about ‘lifting’. Normally, something like that wouldn’t alarm him but Panthro remembered that term being a huge part of the problem when Tygra and Cheetara had explained Felina’s disturbing breakdown in this very room not that long ago. And since then, they’d made a pact to keep Felina away from the Book of Omens until they could be sure she’d not try to do anything reckless with it out of grief. What they’d told him about, he remembered she couldn’t do on her own, but he was sure there might be some other powerful magic she could unleash all the same if gone unchecked, and right now they didn’t need to deal with the implications of that on top of everything else.

When Felina gathered the book up, Panthro had to intervene. “I’ll take that for you.”

Felina’s expression morphed from bewildered to that of annoyed understanding. “I see. They talked to you.” She pressed the book possessively to her chest. “I assure you I’m fine now. You can trust me.”

Panthro softened slightly. He didn’t want to say too much in front of the children. “Listen, nobody knows what you’re going through more than I do and trust me when I say you need more time.”

The tension melted out of her posture, and Panthro knew he’d struck a chord. She passed the Book over to him without further protest.

Felina flashed a brave smile that only faltered slightly. “I’ll be ready shortly. Meet you in the hangar.”

With that, she dashed off leaving Panthro to the task of reminding the children how to behave when out and about. He also had plans to stow the Book where he was sure nobody was going to find it until he wanted them to.

****************

The fires licked the high heavens and the sound of rejoicing filled the air. Light sent darkness into retreat and painted the faces of those it touched with a warm amber glow. Women danced, wildly throwing their arms into the air, their eyes rolling. The smell of roasting meat and wood smoke added flavour to the celebrations and promised a feast to come.

Yet Felina could find no energy to join in the festivities. Earlier, she thought the night out would do her some good, but on the contrary it brought back old memories and feelings. She sat, along with Tygra and Cheetara, slightly apart from the throng gathered around the fire, cheering the dancers on with words and clapping. She could remember other times, other celebrations when they had been invited to the forest home of the Warrior Maidens, times when Lion-O had been with her. Some of those times had been happy, others had been miserable, but she would have traded them all to have him here on this night. As it was never now going to happen, she left it to others to enjoy themselves, while she sat apart and envied their happiness. No one could remain sad forever, she knew, but it was taking a long time for the feeling to fade.

The dancing stopped abruptly and voices rose up in a frenzied shriek. The drum sounded ever louder, drowning out the cries until it alone ruled. Faster and faster, until one sound was blurred into another. Then, reaching its crescendo, one final beat was heard and the voices cheered again.

With faces flushed from singing and warmed by the fire, the other Thundercats returned to where Felina sat.

“Why didn’t you come and join us?” Bengali wanted to know.

“I’m feeling a little tired,” Felina lied.

“That I can believe,” said Panthro. “But what’s your excuse, Tygra?”

“I don’t dance.”

Panthro snorted. “You don’t have to dance. You just have to enjoy yourself.”

“Do I?” Tygra said with a lack of enthusiasm.

“You have to make the effort. The Warrior Maidens have put on this show in our honour. The least you can do is pretend you like it.”

“What’s there’s not to like?” said Bengali. “Food, drink and all these pretty girls.”

“Pretty?” said Pumyra. “How can you tell underneath all that warpaint?”

“I thought they looked rather attractive.”

She eyed him reprovingly. “Yes, we all noticed you looking.”

His already high colouring flushed a deeper shade of red. “No, I wasn’t. I just happened to be looking in their general direction.”

Pumyra grinned. “I see.” Her gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder. “Here comes Willa.”

The leader of the Warrior Maidens strode briskly up to them. Her normally sleek hair was plastered to her head with streaks of mud and a thin blue mask had been painted around her eyes.

“You are well?” she asked. “The festivities please you?”

Tygra nodded. “Very much so. Thank you, Willa. Although I’m not really sure why you invited us.”

She folded her hands across her chest. “You, our friends, have been wounded by your loss. We have all grieved for Lion-O, but now there must be healing.” She smiled down at Felina. “For all of us. We must celebrate what his life was now, instead of mourning the end of it.”

“I’m not sure it’s that easy, Willa,” said Felina.

“No, but we must begin somewhere. You have been our allies for many years, Thundercats. From endings, there must come new beginnings. As we say goodbye to Lion-O and honour his memory, we welcome you, Tygra, as new Lord of the Thundercats.”

“And I’m grateful,” said Tygra, “but I’m not sure--”

“Ah, they are ready,” said Willa, cutting him short. “Come and join us, Thundercats.”

She strode back the main gathering, where a hush had fallen over the crowd. Warriors stepped out of her way as she approached, opening a path to a hunched clad in brightly coloured rags. An animal mask with a bristling forest of horns covered her face and a belt from which hung a selection of bones could be glimpsed beneath her trappings. Willa knelt before her and bowed her head.

“Servant of our Great Mother, we come before you in mourning. Lift our sorrow from our hearts and minds and let us leave our sadness behind us.”

A wrinkled hand reached out and came to rest on Willa’s head. Words in an unfamiliar language came from beneath the mask, muffled and mysterious.

“Is this where they take off their clothes?” whispered WilyKat. Felina noticed he seemed to be faring better lately – both in healing and emotionally, and she was glad that the festivities seemed to be doing one of them some notable good.

Panthro laughed. “Now who told you that?”

“Bengali.”

“Did he now?” said Pumyra, giving him a sideways glance.

Bengali tried his best to look innocent. “Well, they do, don’t they?”

WilyKat’s eye had a gleam in it. “Well, there was this one time we came here and—“ An elbow to his side courtesy of WilyKit cut the reminiscing short, though it didn’t stop Panthro’s snort of approval, no doubt remembering too their first invitation to the Warrior Maidens’ festivities when many of them wondered if they weren’t about to witness some sort of fertility rites.

“You’re pathetic.”

“That’s not fair, Pumyra. WilyKat asked and I told him.”

“Clothed or not,” said Tygra, “I wonder how appropriate this ceremony is going to be. They are our friends, but they do have different and sometimes to us, peculiar ways.” He turned to Felina. “You and the kids don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

She shrugged. She had gone past caring. The feelings and sense of loss were with her day and night, so much so that she had forgotten what it felt like to be normal, whatever that was. If this state were normal for her now, then any chance to be free of it for even a little while would be welcome.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “Perhaps Willa is right. Perhaps this might be good for us all.”

Tygra sighed. “I doubt it, but we must keep up appearances. I fail to see how dancing around a fire is going to solve anything.”

“Depends who’s doing the dancing,” said Panthro with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“These Warrior Maidens have got some pretty good moves,” said Bengali. “They’d cheer me up any day.”

Pumyra shook her head. “Dream on,” she said. “I think that old crone is more your type.”

“Could be,” said Panthro. “Looks like she wants you, Bengali.”

Felina followed Panthro’s gaze to where the woman stood. Willa had joined the others who stood around her and all were looking expectantly in the Thundercats’ direction.

“You, boy,” said the woman in the mask, jabbing an arthritic finger at Bengali. “Come here.”

“Me?” said Bengali. “Why?”

“Because she said so,” said Pumyra, giving him a push in the back. “Go!”

The woman watched his wary approach and Felina was sure that she could sense a smile under that mask. “Are you afraid of me, boy?” she asked.

Bengali swallowed hard, clearly nervous in her presence. “Should I be?”

“That depends on how intelligent you are.” She snapped her fingers and a Warrior Maiden stepped forward, carrying a white bird in a wooden cage. The woman took the bird from her and held it up. “All life is linked,” she declared. “We are born and we die. That is the gift of our Great Mother and also her curse. What she gives…” Her fingers snaked around the struggling bird’s neck and abruptly squeezed. “She can also take away. Here, boy, hold that.”

She dumped the dead bird in Bengali’s open hands, much to his obvious disgust. With her arms held aloft, she faced the fire and began to murmur an indistinct incantation.

“Gross,” said WilyKit, wrinkling her nose. “What’s the significance of that?

“That, my young lady,” said Panthro with an authoritative air, “is dinner. It’s a pity Snarf isn’t here. He’d have that thing plucked and stuffed in no time.”

There was a roar from the fire and the flames rose up to lick the leaves of the tallest trees. The masked woman returned to where Bengali stood and ran her hands gently over the breast of the dead bird.

“In life we are in the midst of death,” she said. “Do you agree, boy?”

Bengali gulped. “I don’t know. I’ve never given it much thought.”

The woman chuckled. “Then believe this. Life and death are but interim states. We pass from one to the other with the certainty that this cycle is eternal. One day we are dead…” She removed her hand from the bird, which suddenly twitched and tried to sit up. “The next, we are alive.”

She took the bird from Bengali, and drew near to where the other Thundercats stood.

“We have shared your grief and we have mourned. Now we mourn no longer.” She held the bird out to Felina. “For you, child. Regret is part of being alive, only keep it a small part.”

Felina took the offering, not sure quite how to respond. “Thank you,” she said, feeling the warmth of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Light caught the eyes behind the mask, making them seem as though they were lit with inner flame. Then she turned and headed back to the fire. The Warrior Maidens cheered and their wild cries rose up again. Bengali hurried over, still with his hands outstretched as though carrying an invisible burden.

“Did you see that?” he said. “That bird came back to life!”

“It was a trick, nothing more than a slight of hand,” said Panthro dismissively.

“I tell you that bird was dead.”

“He seems all right now,” said Felina, stroking its feathered back.

“That was just too weird,” said WilyKit.

“I’ll say this for them,” said Panthro. “The Warrior Maidens certainly know how to throw a party.”

WilyKat’s eyes widened. “You mean now they take off their clothes?”

“Shut up. You’ve been insufferable since you hit puberty,” joked his sister. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

Their noise faded into the distance as Felina found herself a quiet seat. The bird perched happily on her hand and started to clean itself, unaware of its near brush with death. Despite what Panthro had said, she could not doubt what she had seen with her own eyes. The bird had been dead, its neck broken with one squeeze of the woman’s hand. And yet here it was, alive and none the worse for its experience. In her hands was the proof that it was possible to restore the dead. The method was different from that described in the Book of Omens, but the principle was the same. Her mind began turning over the possibilities again, though it was probably for naught. She hadn’t been allowed near the Sword or the Book of Omens since her outburst in the Council room a few days back.

“I would suggest that bringing back a person is infinitely more difficult than restoring a bird to life.”

Felina looked up and met Tygra’s kindly gaze. “You knew what I was thinking?”

“It was an obvious possibility, given what we just witnessed.”

“But it is possible. You saw that.”

Tygra shook his head. “Even if it were, Felina, the risks are too great.”

“But to do nothing feels like I’m betraying him when a way exists.” She sighed. “Everyone keeps telling me to move on. Even that woman thinks I should.”

“She may have a point.”

“Yes.” She considered what to say next, whether what she was feeling actually made any sense. If anyone could understand it, she was sure Tygra would. “This is going to sound strange, but I’m afraid that if I don’t feel this way any more, that I’ll forget him.”

There was a short pause before he answered. “You’ll never forget him, Felina. When you do remember, it just won’t hurt so much. Would that be so bad?”

“No,” she said. “I would like that.” Felina would really like nothing better than to think about Lion-O someday and be able to smile fondly.

“We all have our fears,” he went on. “We live with them for so long that losing them is a fear in itself. But if we allow them to rule us and dictate our actions, if that living?” He sighed. “Perhaps Panthro is right. Is it such a crime to live for the moment?” He smiled down at her and held out his hand. “What say we try it for one night. If we don’t like it, we’ve lost nothing. Well?”

“Just for one night?”

“It couldn’t hurt, Felina.”

She returned his smile and took his hand. “Then I think I just might.”

***************************

The sun shone down in the empty canyon, dappling the cliff wall with shapes of shadow and light. Rain had washed away the reminder of what had happened in this place and only the rocks remained, broken in places where the weight of a falling body had caused them to shatter. Only memory now could recreate the scene as Snarf remembered it, with the rocks splattered with blood and torn pieces of clothing flapping in the breeze. Snarf shuttered at the awful memory, wishing that if there were one thing his aged mind would conveniently forget it would be the memories of coming upon the terrible scene.

Since Lion-O passed, Snarf had gone about daily life in a grief-numbed robotic fashion. Nothing anyone would have expected of him on such an occasion had manifested yet. There’d been no screaming, wailing, or curling up in a corner to sob the hours away. No sir, good old Snarf still cooked and cleaned and took care of everyone like he always had and rightly always would until the day he joined Lion-O in the misty Astral Plane. It helped that Lion-O’s children needed him, and in large part he controlled his emotions for their sake. But another reason lies in the fact that he found it hard to feel much of anything anymore. Numb summed it up nicely, he thought.

At least now he was feeling something having come back to the place of Lion-O’s last stand.

He had dreaded returning to this place. That he had done so today was at Felina’s request, and after staunch assurances from the others that they would be safe. The Warrior Maidens had given Felina a bird the night before and she had talked about releasing it at the place where Lion-O had died as a sort of symbolic show of ‘letting go’. She had asked for his company and he had been reluctant to refuse. Felina was one of the few having as hard a time with Lion-O’s death as he had been, and Snarf reckoned if he saw her move on then maybe he could have some hope of doing so – someday. So, with Jonca and Leon, they had set off together to close a chapter in their life on Third Earth and say goodbye one last time to a friend.

If Snarf had been concerned about the effect this would have on the twins, he was mistaken. They viewed the place without distress and seemed more concerned for him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jonca asked him as he tried to surreptitiously wipe away a tear.

“Don’t you worry about me,” he assured the child. “Just an old speck of dirt in my eye.”

“This is where daddy died, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes,” replied her mother as she looked out across the gorge at some distant point.

“He isn’t here now. Why are we?”

“Because we need to say goodbye.” She removed the bird from the cage she had been carrying and smoothed down its rumpled feathers. “Because we all need to be free now.”

“We aren’t free all ready?” asked Leon. His face held such an innocent bewilderment, Snarf couldn’t help but feel for him.

“Not all of us,” replied Felina. “I have been sad for a long time, but now I see that it’s time to end that.”

Snarf had noticed a change in Felina when she’d returned to the Lair with the others the night before. Whatever had happened at the Warrior Maidens’ fete obviously did her some measure of good.

She lifted the bird into the air and propelled it to freedom. “Goodbye, Lion-O.”

“Goodbye, daddy,” said Jonca, waving at it as it flew higher into the air.

“That wasn’t him,” groused Leon. “That was just a smelly bird. It left its droppings all over the floor.”

“That’s not the point,” said his sister.

“Children, don’t argue,” said Felina gently. “Not today.” She was silent for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “It’s time to leave.”

“Can we go swimming now?” asked Leon.

“If you want. It’s a warm enough day. Coming, Snarf?”

He nodded. “Be with you in a minute.”

He let them draw ahead out of sight, heading safely back to where the others waiting patiently, before delving into his bag and pulling out a threadbare soft toy. The absurd grin on the doofle’s face was slightly lopsided now and one of its ears had vanished somewhere along the way. Snarf stared at it, remembering a time when this same toy had been clutched under Lion-O’s arm when he had entered the suspension capsule on the ship that had brought them to Third Earth. During their journey, he had grown and emerged an adult, who had set aside his childish toys to become the Lord of the Thundercats. Despite that, he had never been able to throw the doofle away. It had remained in his room, out of sight, but never far away. Only death had succeeded in parting them.

With tears rolling down his face, Snarf straightened the toy’s smile and set it down amongst the rocks.

“There,” he said. “Now you are together forever. You look after yourself, snarf, snarf, and look after my little Lion-O for me. Don’t you forget now.”

The doofle grinned back from its rocky seat.

“Well, I’ll be going now. I don’t think I’ll come back here. Brr, too cold here for my liking. And the rocks hurt my feet anyway.”

With that, he set off down the path after Felina unsure of why he’d felt the need to conversate with a stuffed bear. Before he turned the corner, he looked back one last time. The doofle was still smiling, always happy whatever its situation or the events that unfolded around it. Except now it seemed to Snarf that its smile was broader, as though the toy was glad at being near its owner once again. At least someone was happy, he thought to himself.

“Goodbye, Lion-O,” he said. “Wherever you are.”

***********************

Time goes by at such a pace

It's funny how it's easy to forget her face

You hide the cracks, the facts will find you

Turn your back and leave the lonely days behind you now

You better put it behind you now

Too much to hold on, hold on to

You better it put it behind you now

All the things you took for granted

Hit you like a bullet in the gut

You can't get up

Well are you gonna even try?

Cos if you never even try

Time will pass you by

You better put it behind you now

Too much to hold on, hold on to (Hold on, hold on to)

You better put it behind you now

Too much to hold on, to hold on to (Hold on, hold on to)

You better do what's best for you

Don't care what she said and (Better put it behind you now, better put it behind you now)

Only in your head (Hold on, hold on to)

Time will help you out (Better put it behind you now, you better put it behind you now)

Still you don't see how (Hold on, hold on to)

You better put it behind you now

Too much to hold on, to hold on to

You better do what's best for you

--Put It Behind You, Keane

To Be Continued

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