The Daughter of Set

Part Two: Afterlife Death

Not for the first time that night, Mumm-ra glanced over at the sand timer and huffed with displeasure. Trust Luna to keep him waiting. She had been so pleased with herself of late, smugly going on about how she was getting her own planet to rule. At least he was able to draw some consolation from the knowledge that her chances of getting it were roughly the same as the Thundercats had of defeating his latest scheme. That is, if Luna and her band ever showed up and let him get on with it.

When muffled footsteps sounded from the direction of the entrance tunnel, he let a little of his annoyance slip and forced a smile to greet them. The Lunatacs wandered into the chamber with all the haste of a drunken Wollo returning from market. Luna led, as usual, and Mumm-ra was amused to see that she was taking his promise a little too seriously. Atop her head was perched precariously a large golden crown and about her tiny frame hung a huge purple robe. She looked ridiculous, Mumm-ra noted with some satisfaction, especially as she had left the tails of the unfortunate creatures who had been slaughtered for the robe's fur trimming still attached. They swung pitifully, like so many catkins in the wind, occasionally taking their revenge by hitting her in the face. Despite this, Luna tried to maintain an air of superiority, even if she was spitting out fur.

"Well, we're here," she said. "What d'ya think?"

"Hmm, nice," Mumm-ra said. "Very regal."

"'Queen Luna' suits me, doesn't it? I'm certainly going up in the world."

"Oh, yes," said Alluro. "Before you were just a creep; now you're a pretentious creep."

"Watch it, baldy," she scowled at him. "When I'm in charge of my own planet, I'd better not see your ugly hide on my soil."

He refrained from replying, probably for the best, Mumm-ra thought, as he could easily think of several retorts to that which would only lower him to Luna's crude level. Instead, it was Slithe's throaty tones that broke the silence.

"What's this?" he growled. "Luna's getting her own planet? Since when?"

The other Mutants wandered out from the shadows to join Slithe where he was standing at the foot of the steps glaring up at Mumm-ra.

"We run ourselves ragged over the past month, annoying those pathetic Thundercats, letting them beat us, and we get nothing to show for it?"

"Letting them beat you?" Chilla said. "I bet that didn't require too much effort on your part."

"Shut it, icy!" said Slithe. "We want some return, Mumm-ra, or we're gonna turn ugly, yesss."

"Uglier than you already are? Now that would be worth seeing," Alluro quipped.

It was an insult too far, and the two parties started to square up to each other. Mumm-ra sighed and intervened. As much as he always enjoyed seeing the Lunatacs and Mutants fighting amongst themselves, tonight there were far more pressing matters.

"Once the Thundercats are defeated," he said over their noise, "everyone will share in the victory. Rest assured that you will all get what you deserve." That seemed to satisfy the majority of them. Only Alluro and Vultureman showed any glimmer of suspicion in their eyes. If they understood his double meaning, they were wise not to directly challenge him about it. Just as well, Mumm-ra thought. He was in no mood for their cheek.

"Well, that's just fine," said Luna. "So, why are we here? Forty days you said, Mumm-ra."

At the snap of his fingers, his four attendants came forth from the shadows, bearing between them a litter on which was a cloth-draped figure. Setting it down on the steps before him, they bowed and respectfully backed away. Another click of his fingers caused them to change back to the wooden statues they had been originally.

"If you're finished with them," Luna said, rubbing her hands together with glee, "perhaps I could--"

"Don't push your luck, Lunatac," Mumm-ra said. "I draw the line at you defiling my funerary goods." Luna huffed, much to the amusement of the others. "Now, gather around. This I want you to see."

He drew back the cloth and gazed down in admiration at the embalmer's art. Bandages criss-crossed the length of the body, giving no indication where one ended and another began. Between fingers and around limbs they had been woven and arranged with care about the head, so that only the face was revealed. Mutants and Lunatacs drew in for a closer look, their expressions torn between wonder and revulsion.

Luna's lip curled in dislike. "I suppose she is dead this time?" she asked.

"Quite dead."

"I expected to see a flatter profile," said Alluro. The others looked up at him with disgust. "Well, I thought he'd removed her internal organs. If so, she's bound to look a bit hollow."

Mumm-ra nodded. "You are correct. As the custom of mummification dictates, the lungs, stomach, intestines and liver have been stowed in the specially appointed canopic jars," he said, indicating four round-bellied vessels with stylised animal heads that stood in the shadows. "In their place, the body cavity has been packed with treated linen to preserve its shape."

"Nice," muttered Luna. "While this is all very interesting, what happens now?"

"The ceremony of the 'Opening of the Mouth' must be performed. The great god of chaos, Set, will breathe life into her body and ignite her senses. She will be reborn, ever-living... and evil," he added with emphasis. "The spells that I cast over this place prevented her soul from entering the Astral Plane. She will have to return to her body. That is partly why I wanted her alive."

"And the other reason?" asked Alluro.

Mumm-ra chuckled. "Apart from my own enjoyment, you mean? Let's just say that I'm going to destroy her illusions about her precious friends. By the time I'm finished, she will welcome the powers of my evil master. There is nothing quite like personal suffering to turn the mind."

"You mean, you did this to her when she was still--?" Jackalman barely finished his question before he gagged and raced away to throw up.

"D'you mind?" said Luna.

"This, from the woman who spent all day with her head down the toilet after we left here the last time?" TugMug sneered.

"I have a delicate stomach," she protested. "Besides, I didn't see you hanging about. I haven't seen you trundle that fast since--"

"Be quiet!" Mumm-ra roared. "This ceremony demands respect and concentration. Cease your noise or get out!" Suitably humbled, the gathered Lunatacs and Mutants fell into a sullen silence, and watched as he slowly raised his outstretched hands, causing the litter to lift up into the air. When it had reached waist-height, he left it to hover and moved over to it. On her chest, the embalmers had placed a slim ebony casket, which he opened. Inside was a black cross-shaped amulet, one of whose arms had been twisted round into an oval shape. Taking it out of the box, he held it up for them to see.

"Behold," he said. "The ankh, the symbol of life." Spreading his arms wide, he appealed to the brooding statues. "Ancient Spirits of Evil, hear me, and let my words reach the ears of your diabolical master. All powerful and all mighty Set, Lord of the Desert, Commander of the Storm, Ruler of Chaos, come to this place and give to this female your unnatural life, so that as your child she might better serve you!"

So saying, he touched the ankh to Cheetara's lips and saw a small spark of energy pass from it into her body. Almost immediately, her chest rose as she drew air into lungs that existed only by the power of darkness. Evil ichor pulsed through her veins, making the heart that had been left inside her begin to beat. Finally, her eyelids twitched and fluttered open. Eyes preserved by the embalmers' skill saw again, even if they were unable to make sense of the sight before them.

"Welcome back, my dear," Mumm-ra said.

Startled and fearful, she sat bolt upright and pushed herself away from him. The edge of the litter came too soon and she tumbled from it. Lunatacs and Mutants drew back as though a snake had been thrown into their midst and stared transfixed by the sight of this dead, living Thundercat. Slowly, Cheetara discovered her bandaged state and began to wail.

"What did you do to me?" she cried.

With a wave of Mumm-ra's hand, the litter flew aside. He advanced on her, making her retreat until she came up against the stone edge of his cauldron and could go no further. Kneeling so that he came down to her level, he brought his face close to hers.

"Ungrateful whelp!" he spat. "I saved your life. Without my intervention, you would be dead."

"No," she cried, covering her face with her hands.

"Yes," he said, taking her by the arms and forcing her to look at him. "Your so-called friends buried you, Cheetara. They left you in the ground, gave you no protection from evil such as mine. They betrayed you." She started to weep and he shook her roughly. "But I, Mumm-ra, saved you. I gave you back your life."

"By doing this to me!"

"All I did was to help you back to life. The means was perhaps unpleasant, but the blame lies with your Thundercat friends. Had they not been so quick to be rid of you, this could have been prevented." Smiling, he moved ever closer so that his lips were brushing her bandaged ear. "Tell me, my dear, how did it feel when they began to remove your entrails? So terrible for you, unable to move or cry out, unable to call for your friends. Do you think they would have come?" At her meek nod, he laughed. "Stop deceiving yourself! They deserted you. They didn't care what happened to you. It is their fault. They allowed this to happen."

"No," she cried. "I don't believe you!"

He grabbed her hands and held them up in front of her face. "Then believe this!" he said, forcing her to see the bandages, to understand their meaning. "Or had you forgotten? After they had ripped out your guts, were you still conscious? Were you still alive when they began to scoop out your brains? Did you think of your friends then?"

He released her and she collapsed to the floor, weeping pitifully. "You're a sensible girl, Cheetara. You understand the workings of the Sword of Omens better than I, so perhaps you could explain, why, when all those terrible things were being done to you, did Lion-O not come to your rescue?"

"He thought I was dead," she sobbed.

"Did he? Surely the Sword knew you weren't. It is meant to be all-seeing, isn't it?" She lifted her face to look at him, and in her watery eyes he saw the first beginnings of doubt. "And Jaga too. I would have thought he might have told the Thundercats of your fate. Or perhaps he did tell Lion-O and he just couldn't be bothered."

"No!" she screamed. "I don't, won't believe you!"

"Ah, but part of you does," he said, waggling a disapproving finger at her. "You see, I am evil. Always have been, always will be. What happened... well, you expect that of me. But your friends..." He looked to the Lunatacs to back him up. "Not exactly grief stricken, are they?"

Luna gave her nastiest grin. "I think they've been managing just fine without you, dear, as the Mutants can readily testify."

"That wasn't our fault," grumbled Slithe. "They seem to be better organised or something, yesss."

"Awk, like they've cut out the dead wood," said Vultureman.

"Like you're not holding them back any more, Cheetara," said Alluro

"So much for a team," snorted Chilla. "Seems they've been carrying you all these years."

"That's not true," Cheetara said in quiet, breaking voice. "Say it's not true."

Knowing glances passed between Lunatacs and Mutants. Defeat echoed in Cheetara's voice. She was breaking before their very eyes.

"Oh, but it is true, my dear," said Mumm-ra. "I can't imagine your pain right now. How does it feel, the treachery, the lies, the injustice?"

"It hurts," she whispered. "I can't believe that they would..."

"Leave you to die? No one is indispensable, Cheetara, and the people you think you can most rely on always let you down."

"Tell me about it," said Luna, giving her fellow Lunatacs an unfriendly glance.

"They didn't come," Cheetara said, almost to herself. "They left me." She began to shake and tremble. Tears coursed down her face and splashed onto the hard stone floor. "Oh, gods, why? Why?"

"Why don't you go back and ask them?" Mumm-ra said.

"Like this?" she said, holding up her hands. "What am I?"

"Whatever you want to be. Your life was at an end, but now you are reborn and free to take whatever path you choose. Let me show you the way."

But she firmly shook her head. "You are evil. You hate me more than they do."

"There are many shades of evil, Cheetara. How much more was the evil that your friends did when they betrayed you. At least I have never pretended to like you. I have always been honest about my feelings towards you."

"You wanted us all dead." She paused and stared down at herself. "And yet you did this. You could have let me die, but you didn't. Why?"

"Because I hate to see potential go to waste, especially a talent such as yours." He got to his feet and, extending a hand to her, helped her up. Turning her round, he stood behind her and whispered in her ear while a scene played out in the rancid waters of his cauldron. "Look at yourself," he said. "See what you could be."

She was held by the image, of herself wielding great psychic powers, of her enemies falling at her feet. So intent was she that she did not protest when Mumm-ra allowed his hands to wander down from her shoulders and on past the soft swell of her breasts to her waist. "There now, my dear," he whispered. "Doesn't that look exciting? Such power. All yours."

"What do I have to do?" she said.

As if in answer, a gold diadem rose from the heaving waters. On its brow-piece, the twin-headed snake reared in its broken figure of eight. Cheetara hesitated, but Mumm-ra gently pushed her towards it. A little encouragement worked, for she took it and regarded it warily. Putting his hands over hers, Mumm-ra guided it up above her head.

"This is your birth-right," he said. "A gift from the great god, Set, your father, who has given you life. You are his daughter, Cheetara. Accept his gift and know true power."

So saying, he lowered it onto her head. Her body stiffened as evil energies flooded through her and she moaned with almost orgasmic pleasure. The wind began to whip around her, stripping the bandages from her body and filling out her shrivelled muscles. When she spun round, even Mumm-ra had to admit to amazement. Her eyes shone like the sun, blinding in their brilliance, while the diadem fought the wild mane that whipped about her head to remain in place on her brow. Where there had been bandages was now an outfit that was sleek, black and downright tempting. The lacing of her halter-neck top struggled to contain her bosom, while the low-cut leggings that skirted her hips barely seemed decent. Seeing her like this, Mumm-ra felt a long-forgotten tingle start somewhere in his groin. It was going to be fun having her around, he thought lasciviously.

"Whew," Alluro murmured. "You should do this more often, Mumm-ra. I never knew a Thundercat could look so hot." When the fury of her transformation had died down, he sidled up to her and slid an arm around her waist. "Hey, babe, what say you and me get together sometime?"

"What say I break every bone in your body?" she hissed, turning faintly glowing eyes on him. Taking the hint, Alluro removed his arm and retreated to a safe distance.

"What about this?" said Mumm-ra, holding up her Thundercat insignia.

She took it from him and crushed it in her hand. "The daughter of Set needs no one," she said. "Least of all those verminous cats. Now, where are they?"

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

"WilyKat, wait!"

But the cub was already scampering away from him at top speed. Watching him go, Lion-O sighed and stooped to pick up the bunch of flowers that he had dropped in his wake. He had known it was a bad idea from the start. Barely a month and a half had passed since the death of their friend. Nerves were still raw. When WilyKat had asked to come with him to visit her grave, he had allowed the cub to join him despite his misgivings. While his sister seemed to be coming to terms with the loss, WilyKat was still very much in denial. He always spoke of Cheetara in the present tense and acted like he expected her to come home any day. Hence Lion-O's surprise and concern at the cub's request. True, WilyKat had started off bravely enough, but every step deeper into the Forest of the Unicorns had seen his courage desert him. Finally, it had proved too much and he had fled.

Not that Lion-O blamed him. Accepting that Cheetara was gone, that he would never see her again this side of the Astral Plane, had taken him a long time. His weekly visits to her grave helped, when he would tend the flowers and tell her of all the things that had happened. Sometimes, it was silly things, the day to day running of the Lair, or some new joke Bengali had told him. More recently, he had had to tell her of more serious matters, of Mutant raids and troubles with the Lunatacs. They had managed, but something was missing. Their performance as a team was sloppy and lacklustre, and he was half-inclined to believe that the only reason they still carried the day was that the Mutants felt sorry enough for their loss to let them win.

Continuing alone, he soon came to the leafy glade they had picked for her last resting-place. Since his last visit, the grasses had grown a little longer, the flowers had drooped and a crisp scattering of leaves now covered the slight mound. Autumn was in the air. Soon would come the invites to harvest festivals. They would have to attend out of politeness, even though their hearts were not in it. Going back to the Berbil village, the scene of her death, would be the hardest of all.

For the time being, however, he pushed his sad thoughts aside and set to tidying the grave. Laying the Sword of Omens to one side, he knelt down and began to gather up the windfalls and leaves. Whilst de-heading the wilting flowers, his eye caught a glint of something protruding from the earth. Intrigued, he pulled it up and found that it was a broken fingernail. The break was clean, indicating that it had snapped off, and the nail itself was nicely manicured. But its sparkling gloss made him wonder where he had seen it before. One of the Unicorn Keepers? Offhand, he couldn't remember ever having taken much notice of their hands. No, the memory was more immediate. Casting his mind back over the last couple of days, he racked his brain. There had been a fire at the Balkin village, a problem with the electrics at the Tower, a run-in with Alluro and Chilla... And suddenly it hit him. Chilla! In his mind's eye, their last encounter played out down to the last detail. When an icy blast had failed to stop him, she had flown at him. The scene slowed, and he looked past her face with its expression of fury to the outstretched hands. The long nails glittered like the walls of the Crystal Canyon as they reached for him. One on her right hand was that little bit shorter than the others. It could only mean one thing. She had been here.

He was up on his feet in seconds, rage tearing at his mind. How dare they! How dare they defile this place with their presence! And they must have touched Cheetara's grave, for how else would Chilla's broken nail have ended up half buried in the earth? How indeed, came the worrying voice of his thoughts. He could think of a hundred reasons why her nail had broken, but none better than the one going over and over in his mind.

"Do not stand by my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep!"

The voice, so immediate, so familiar, made him spin round to face the speaker. And there she was. His jaw dropped open as his arms fell limply by his sides.

"Cheetara?" he managed to get out. "You've come back?"

She snorted. "I never went anywhere, Lion-O. Haven't you worked that out yet?"

He was faintly aware of the insistent growl coming from the Sword of Omens, but he was too shocked to draw his eyes away from her. His gaze travelled up and down the length of her body, taking in the change of outfit, and finally fixed on the unfriendly expression on her face.

"But, Cheetara, you look so... so..."

"Different? Generally pissed-off? Alive?"

"I don't understand," he said falteringly.

"Never mind," she said, pushing herself off the tree against which she had been lounging and advancing on him. She came near, close enough for him to feel the brush of her skin on his. Then, stood before him, she slowly started to run her hands across the broad muscles of his chest.

"Cheetara, I..." he began, but she put a finger to his lips. Then, her hand slid round his neck and pulled his head down to hers. Their lips met in a tender kiss, first tentatively touching, then growing harder and a little painful, as she forcibly explored the insides of his mouth with her tongue. It was electric, it was fire, and something whispered in his ear that it was wrong. But he ignored it, just as he ignored the frantic roar coming from the Sword of Omens. Every foolish cubhood fantasy was coming true. She was here and she wanted him. And he wanted her, so badly that it hurt. A tormented longing for her presence it might be, but he was happy to go along with it.

Together, they went down onto the soft grasses, and rolled over and over until they finally came to rest with her on top of him. She straddled his body and sat up, tossing her mane back from her face. He could only lie there, a willing prisoner beneath her, feeling the stirring in his loins as she tore his top from him and traced the firm contours of his chest with fingers and nails.

"You want me, don't you?" she purred. He could only nod in answer. "Yes, I can feel that you do," she went on, all the while keeping up her caress of his body. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

Again, the nod, but as he did, he felt pressure start to build in his chest, as though someone had clamped a tight band around him. His eyes snapped open, not knowing what to expect. She was still there, above him, her hands resting lightly on his bosom, but there was glow in her eyes now and a cruel smile on her lips.

"Cheetara, what are you doing?" he said. "I'm-- finding it a little-- hard to breathe."

She laughed, a terrible mocking sound that made his insides run cold. "Oh, poor Lion-O, what's the matter? Does it hurt?"

The pressure increased, leaving him gasping for breath. He could actually feel his diaphragm being squeezed up, while his ribs were being constricted tighter and tighter. The lack of oxygen was making his mind swim. Gone now were the lustful thoughts of a few moment earlier. He could only think now of the need to breathe. Weakly, he tried to push her away, but she tightened her grip with her legs about his middle and held him fast.

"It's a terrible feeling, isn't it, to be helpless before death," she said, mockingly. "Oh, you know that you're dying, but you can't do anything to stop it."

"Why?" he gasped. "Why are you doing this?"

His question was met with a vicious constriction of his chest. He cried out, more out of shock than pain, as he felt, and heard, the sudden snap of bones as his lower ribs succumbed to the unequal challenge. Shards of razor sharp bone stabbed into soft tissue, puncturing that which they were supposed to protect. With a harsh laugh, Cheetara released him. He rolled onto his side, hugging his arms about him. A little way off, the Sword of Omens still lay where he had left it. So near, yet even that short distance would be agony, if she allowed him to get that far.

"That you even need to ask I find insulting," Cheetara said, moving back into his field of vision. "Did you think I would never find out? You left me, you traitorous slime!"

"You were dead," he said weakly.

"Was I? Who told you that? Your precious healer, I suppose. If you place your trust in someone who hasn't completed her training, then ignorance is a good defence. But you don't have that luxury, Lion-O. You had the Sword. That should have told you. Jaga should have told you."

Speech was fast becoming beyond his command. His lungs felt sticky and heavy, and every breath was excruciating. He could feel his life slipping away and he was helpless to stop it. But he was still Lord of the Thundercats, and his thoughts turned in the direction of the one thing he knew might help him yet.

"Sword of Omens," he croaked, "come to my hand."

He only just managed to catch it as it flew in his direction. It seemed heavier than usual and the sheer weight of it made his arm drop uselessly to the floor. Any moment, he expected Cheetara to snatch it away and stop him. Yet, when he looked up at her, she was standing watching him, as if waiting for him to act. He saw his chance and took it. Even from his prone position, the Sword still responded. The Cat's Signal shot straight up into the air, clear above the trees, calling to the Thundercats to come to their Lord's aid. A little of its power flooded into his debilitated body, reviving him just enough to challenge her.

"Cheetara," he began. "Whatever you think I've done, I'm sorry. I thought you were dead."

"Correction. You hoped I was dead. Too bad for you, Lion-O. Your life is coming to an end. I will prevail. For I am ever-living!"

"You mean, like..."

"Yes, like Mumm-ra. You left me for dead and, worse, you left me unprotected, your inconvenient friend. For all that he did to me, I blame you, Lion-O, so-called Lord of the Thundercats! So much for your precious Code of Thundera. Where was loyalty when I needed it?" So saying, she glanced over her shoulder. "And now I must go. I leave you to your dying. Tell your friends, Lion-O, that I will have my revenge on them all!"

He could only watch as she disappeared into the green gloom of the forest. The brief respite given by the Sword's powers was fading and pain once more tortured his injured body. Before his eyes, the world started to dance and ripple, until the colours merged into a thick, fuzzy mess. And his chest, so painful, was on fire with each desperate gasp for air. An eternity seemed to stretch away, measured only by the intensity of the pain he felt. An age later, a hand touched his arm and with it came a worried voice. His mouth, filled with the bitter taste of his own blood, tried to form words. Something came out; he wasn't sure what or even if he would be understood. Around him, the world was growing steadily darker. Night, as his muddled brain translated it. Time to sleep. And so he did.

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

"So much for your 'Wondercat'," Luna sneered, eyeing Mumm-ra with annoyance. They were supposed to be here to witness the culmination of his latest scheme. Instead, all they had seen was another embarrassing nail in the coffin of his and their ambitions. Not that she had much faith in the withered old fossil anyway, but with this setback, he was bound to go back on their deal. If so, she could at least draw some satisfaction from tormenting him. "Hardly a great success, is it?"

Mumm-ra scowled and kept his eyes fixed on the scene that was playing out in the waters of his cauldron. Somehow, despite all the odds, Lion-O's wretched life had been saved. His friends had turned up in the nick of time. Luna was half-inclined to commiserate with Mumm-ra on his unbelievable bad luck, but soon quashed the idea. He would not be so magnamious if the shoe were on the other foot.

"So what happens now?" she demanded.

It took him a moment before he replied, during which time he sighed and then set his shoulders with renewed determination. "She will try again and she will defeat them," he said assuredly.

"Is that so?" said Slithe. "Face it, Mumm-ra, you're wasting your time and ours, yesss."

"Nay-ha, you picked the wrong Thundercat," said Jackalman, surprising the others with his unusual boldness. "Cheetara was always soft. Even with your powers, she couldn't-- even-- kill..."

He trailed off, gasping, as some unseen force began to choke the life out of him. One desperate hand reached out, appealing for help, while the other scrambled in vain at his throat. As Luna and the others watched, too shocked to go to his aid, Jackalman's tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes rolled. His lifeless body hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Would anyone else care to doubt me?" came a voice from behind them.

Before Luna had a chance to turn Amok around, Cheetara had strode past her and onwards to where Mumm-ra stood.

"You killed Jackalman!" Slithe spluttered. "I'll--"

"You'll do what?" Cheetara said. "He was a cretin and a waste of space."

"Hoo-hoo, but he was our cretin-- I mean, our fellow Mutant," said Monkian.

"No one questions the Daughter of Set and goes unpunished. Let this be a lesson to all of you."

As was usual when met with a tricky situation, the other Lunatacs looked to their leader, as they did now. Luna knew it was a way of shifting the blame to someone else if things went wrong. But this was different. Jackalman had died before their very eyes, without Cheetara laying a hand on him. That had not been part of Mumm-ra's plan. Yet, the old devil had not protested and the question he now put to his protege concerned the fate of his greatest foe, rather than the dead Mutant at their feet.

"The Lord of the Thundercats lives," he said gravely. "Explain yourself to your master."

Cheetara smiled knowingly. "Lord Set knows the plan."

"You forget yourself, wench. As I answer to the Ancient Spirits, so you answer to me!"

She gave him a look that would have turned Chilla to ice. In all her years, Luna had never quite experienced such a thrill of terror as that which now coursed down her spine. It was clear enough that Mumm-ra was fast losing control. He had underestimated this Thundercat. Despite his promises of planets and gold, Luna's only inclination was to leave him to it. Except she had a greedy streak that still harboured hopes of salvaging something from this mess, and it made her stay to hear what the she-cat had to say for herself.

"If you insist," Cheetara said, "I will tell you. Although I would have thought my intention was obvious." She cast a disdainful glance over the gathering. "How little you appear to know of the Thundercats after all this time. Surely you must have realised by now that the Sword of Omens answers only to one master at a time. While the Lord of the Thundercats is alive, the Sword is bound to him. But alive can also mean not quite dead. At this moment, Lion-O stands between life and death. He is a liability to his fellows. Neither alive enough to command the Sword, nor dead enough to allow it to pass to another. Now do you understand?"

Mumm-ra clapped his hands. "Excellent! You have effectively disabled the Sword of Omens. They are in shock. They are vulnerable. We will sweep down on Cat's Lair and destroy them all!"

"I will destroy them," Cheetara corrected him.

"Like you destroyed Jackalman?" RedEye spoke up. Luna glared at him and gestured to him to hold his tongue. "He was one of us, Luna," he said obstinately. "Now he's dead."

"Excuse me," said Alluro. "He was a Mutant. We're Lunatacs. He was nothing to do with us. You carry on, Cheetara. We'll back you all the way."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," Cheetara said, "until it suits you otherwise."

"What, us?" Luna spluttered, trying to feign indignation. "We would never--"

"Spare me your lies, Luna! I know you of old. Credit me with some intelligence."

"And great power too," said Mumm-ra approvingly. "To see you work was... quite magnificent."

"My abilities are greatly increased," she said. Her voice had dropped several notches, just enough to make the hairs rise on the back of Luna's neck. "With the gift of my father, Lord Set, I am able to use my telepathy to call to the evil that is inherent in every living being. It hears me. It answers me. It obeys me. If I command destruction, then destruction I get!"

She spun on Mumm-ra, eyes blazing with a fierce yellow glow. From his torso, plumes of smoke started to rise. He stared down at his body and the face he lifted bore an expression of total shock.

"What are you doing?" he roared.

"This is only room for one of us in this Pyramid, Mumm-ra. You have been judged and your failures weigh against you. The Ancient Spirits turn their faces from you, as Lord Set turns his face from them!"

There was a terrible crash, as though a thunderstorm had gathered above their heads. Lightning surged through the air, smashing into the four statues. As broken chunks of stone flew around, Lunatacs and Mutants scattered to the relative safety of the walls. The dying statues screamed, but not as loudly as their servant. The evil in him answered the call of a greater power and fled his body. Mumm-ra, once lord and master of all he surveyed, was reduced to a withered, pathetic collection of skin and bone. Too ancient to sustain his unnatural life, what remained of his body fell as dust to the floor. The Ever-Living had proved frightenly mortal after all.

"By the Moons of Plun-darr," TugMug whispered hoarsely. "She's killed the old goat."

"We're leaving, now!" Luna screamed. "Let's get out of here!"

She slapped Amok on his broad head to make him move, but he was already hurrying towards the entrance tunnel. When he reached it, Luna was faced with a wide expanse of smooth stone wall. "You idiot!" she yelled. "You've brought me to the wrong place!"

"No, Luna, he's right," said Alluro. "The tunnel was here, but it's gone. We're trapped!"

Luna stared at her comrade in horror. Then a menacing voice cut through the dust and tension, and she knew her fate was sealed.

"And where do you think you're going?" said Cheetara.

Continued

Continued

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