Footsteps reverberated in the echoing hall of Cat's Lair as Lion-O hurried down the stairs and on into the Council Room. The news that they finally had a way of getting Cheetara and the Sword of Omens back from their otherworldly universe had sent all their spirits soaring. The end of the whole traumatic fiasco was in sight and Lion-O found himself silently thanking the kindly fates that had brought them deliverance. Snarf, however, was still unconvinced.

"Brrr, now you be careful, Lion-O," he purred, slightly breathlessly as he galloped along at his heels. "I'm not sure I trust those parallel universe things. What if you get stuck there? What'll become of you? What'll become of us all, snarf, snarf?"

"I'll be fine, Snarf," Lion-O tried to reassure him, as patiently as possible. After all, the plan was simple enough. Find Cheetara, find the Sword, come home. Things were already complicated enough without making life difficult. Still, he found his conscience bothering him. He had heard some pretty appalling stories of their counterparts' lives. To leave them in such a state sat ill with him. And then there was Cheetara's double. What would become of her and her child once she went back to the desperate existence she had fled? He was starting to doubt whether he would be able to act so dispassionately when he arrived in the other world.

In the Council chamber, he found Panthro waiting for him and also, to his surprise, Tygra, still clad in the dressing gown he had been wearing in the infirmary. The fact he was seated seemed to be the only concession he would allow for his condition.

"Should you be up?" Lion-O said with concern. "I thought Pumyra said--"

"She did," Tygra replied. "But I had to come and see what happened. Professional curiosity, you know."

Lion-O smiled. Wild Mutants, he guessed, would not have kept Tygra away. "Right then, are we ready?" he said to Panthro.

Panthro nodded. "Got the nunchucks just in case," he said, gesturing to the weapon he held. "You never know, there might be a few Mutant heads to be cracked together."

Something he would thoroughly enjoy, Lion-O thought, seeing the panther's grin. "About that," he said. "Do you think, while we're there, we should help them?"

"You could try," said Tygra, "although how much you'll be able to achieve is debatable. Remember, you'll be feeling the effects of dual existence. I should think it will be all you can do to complete the mission."

He was right, Lion-O knew, but it did not make him feel any better. "But we can't just leave them there," he said. "What about Cheetara and her baby?"

"We'll manage," came her voice from behind him as she quietly entered the room. She wandered over to join them and Lion-O was surprised to find that she was wearing a grimy white tunic, loosely belted at the waist.

"As I came so I shall go," she said, seeing his inquiring gaze.

"You're coming with us?" asked Panthro.

"I have no reason to stay," she said. "My place is in my world." At Lion-O's protests, she held up her hand. "No, you can't change my mind. I should never have left in the first place, I see that now. I have to go back, to put things right."

"If you're sure," said Lion-O. She gave a determined nod. "Very well." Panthro handed him the operating device, which, if he had not known better, he would have dismissed as an ordinary insignia. "So, I just place both hands over it and it should work?"

Solid nods all round gave him the reassurance he needed. Placing it on one palm, he covered it with the other and waited. A warm glow emanated from between his fingers as the device was activated. What seemed like an awfully long time passed with nothing happening. In confusion, he looked from one puzzled face to another and finally came to rest on Cheetara.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked.

She took the device from him and pressed her hands tightly round it. Still nothing. "I don't understand," she said.

"Is there a command you have to give?" Tygra suggested.

"No," she said, staring hard at the circle of red and black. "It glowed, didn't it, so that means the signal is being sent. It should work, unless…" She hesitated and shook her head. "No, impossible."

"What?" Panthro urged.

"Unless there was nothing to receive that signal," said Tygra, finishing the obvious thought.

"But they wouldn't have destroyed the Eye," Cheetara said. "It was too valuable to them."

"Not if they found something of greater value."

"You mean the Sword?" said Panthro. "But it's not going to work for them."

"I have a Lion-O in my world," said Cheetara. "He could use it, although he's not like you."

"That's reassuring," Lion-O murmured. "At least we know the Sword can't be used for evil."

"We know," said Panthro. "But they don't."

"And they've destroyed this universe-hopping device of theirs to stop us trying to retrieve what's rightly ours." Lion-O sighed and rubbed his brow. "So we're back at the beginning. The problem remains. The only question now is, where do we go from here?"

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

The circular cage allowed for six paces around its circumference, no more, no less. Cheetara was sure of that, having tested it thoroughly over the past five hours. Round and round she went, sometimes clockwise, sometimes in the other direction, until she was so dizzy she found it hard to stand. She could sit, just, if she drew her knees up under her chin and did not move about too much. Too long, however, and her muscles would start to cramp and complain, and she would have to start pacing again. Comfort, she had decided, was obviously not foremost in the mind of the person who had designed this prison.

Over in the other cage, her fellow captive seemed to be in less discomfort. Panthro had assumed a cross-legged position and had sat with his eyes closed for the best part of three hours. Whether he was asleep or in some deep meditative state, she was unsure. Disturbing him, however, was less desirable and a quiet Panthro was preferable to the raging fiend of earlier. Still, company would have been nice, anything or anyone to break the monotony of her imprisonment, and she found herself almost longing for the Mutants to return to put an end to this torment. Confined spaces had a limited appeal at the best of times, less so now as the waiting for whatever punishment Slithe deemed fit dragged on.

Part of her still had trouble accepting what had happened. Escape had been so close. She had had the Sword and the Mutants had been duped. If only Monkian and Jackalman had not chosen that exact moment to make their entrance, she might well have been away from this world. And then there was Lion-O. He had sided with the Mutants. She had seen it with her own eyes, seen the Sword held only inches from her face. Gingerly, she fingered the sizeable lump on the back of her head where Slithe had stunned her into unconsciousness. How, she wondered, had he managed to so successfully twist Lion-O into happily betraying a fellow Thunderian? On that point, she had to concede Panthro had been correct. She only hoped his later pronouncement, that Slithe would have them both executed, would not be as accurate.

From somewhere in the darkness came the soft tap of footsteps. Two people, walking on tiptoe, a sure sign that they were taking a risk just by being there. Then from the gloom came a pair of grimy kittens, dirty in mane and face, with thin, bedraggled clothes barely covering their scrawny bodies. Her stomach lurched to see them. She knew they were somewhere about in the castle, but was unprepared to actually see them like this. Casting wary glances about the cell, both hurried over to her.

"Pumyra thought you might be hungry," whispered WilyKit, holding out a small, wrapped bundle.

"So we brought this for you," added her brother.

"Thank you," said Cheetara, taking the offering. "Where did you two come from?"

The question remained unanswered, for both had scuttled away before she had finished speaking. There seemed little else to do, so she carefully opened the bundle and found inside several slices of breadfruit and a solitary candyfruit. It was a little old and browning in places, but its juices were a wonderful tonic to her parched throat. She let the sweet liquid fill her mouth and let it glide slowly over her tongue. Closing her eyes, she savoured the moment.

"Enjoy it while you can."

Panthro's voice intruded into her enjoyment. With resentment, she swallowed and looked over to where he sat. "You're awake then," she said.

"Haven't been asleep," he replied. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Death. The Afterlife. Is there such a thing as an Astral Plain, d'you think?"

"So I've been told." She took another bite out of the candyfruit and took her time chewing it. "I shouldn't worry about it. They aren't going to kill us."

Panthro gave a hearty laugh. "Really! And where do you get your information?"

"We're too useful to them for a start. Didn't you say our numbers were limited?"

He shrugged. "Well, there's useful and then there's useful. I can see them sparing you, for obvious reasons, but me…"

"And you're content just to let that happen?"

In the half-light of the cell, she thought she saw his eyes blaze briefly. "Not if I can help it," he growled. "And not without taking as many of them with me as possible." The fire died and with a sigh he leant back against the bars of his cage. "Chance would be a fine thing now though. Any of that breadfruit left?"

She threw him a slice, which he caught and hungrily devoured. She watched and waited until he had finished, then put to him the question that had been nagging away at her since their capture.

"Why didn't you tell me they had used you?"

"You put it very delicately," he observed. "Others might be less generous. Many died trying to liberate Thundera from Plun-darrian control. I'm ashamed to say that I was not one of them. If you were in my shoes, would you have been so eager to tell everyone about your murky past?"

"Perhaps not," she conceded. "But the fact you did break free from your conditioning means there's hope for Lion-O."

He gave a snort of scorn. "You don't give up, do you? Didn't that whack over the head knock some sense into you? He's a lost cause, Cheetara."

"I don't believe it."

"Don't or won't?"

Either was a possibility, she knew, but was not prepared to admit it to him. Before she could reply to his challenge, however, the sound of footsteps again came to her ears. She waited with growing trepidation for the newcomer to reveal himself, and when he did she was surprised to find that Lion-O had entered the cell, looking only slightly less wary than the kittens had done.

"Well, well, talk of the devil," said Panthro. "What d'you want, runt?"

He cast an uneasy glance in Panthro's direction. "I, er, I wanted to talk to you, Cheetara," he began uncertainly. "I want you to teach me how to use the Sword of Omens."

"And not even a 'please'!" said Panthro. "What a credit you are to your master!"

"Panthro, you aren't helping," said Cheetara.

"No, but it's fun," he said.

She sighed with annoyance at his attitude and turned her attention back to Lion-O, who stood waiting nervously for her answer.

"No," she said. "I'll not teach you how to use the Sword."

"But," he began to protest.

"Because it will never work for you while you serve an evil master like Slithe."

He came closer and gripped the bars of her cage, a line of worry forming between his brows. "Please," he said, "you have to tell me. If you don't, Slithe will make you."

She folded her arms and adopted an air of aloof disinterest. "And that worries you?"

"Yes," he said earnestly. "I want to help. I helped you earlier."

"You did? How exactly? By threatening me with the Sword?"

"Well, it was obvious it wasn't going to work for you and Slithe would have treated you very roughly if he had found out."

"He did treat me roughly," she said, touching her hand to her bruised head. "And how does being stuck in here constitute helping me in your eyes?"

"It could have been worse," Lion-O insisted. "You don't know what he's like. I didn't want you to get hurt, that's all." His fingers were rapidly turning white as his grip on the bars intensified. "I want to help the people of this planet. Once I have the Sword, they will have to accept Slithe's rule and the rebellion will end and the Mutants won't hurt them any more."

Panthro guffawed. "Well, there's a certain twisted logic in that, I suppose. May the Ancients spare this world with you in charge!"

Lion-O visibly shrank under this onslaught. "Why do you mock me?" he said. "I only seek to serve my master as well as you did, Panthro."

"Why?" Cheetara demanded. "What has Slithe ever done for you that deserves such loyalty?"

"He saved me when my village was destroyed and my family killed."

"He kidnapped you," said Panthro. "And his ship was part of the fleet that caused the destruction."

Lion-O shook his head in disbelief. "No, he saved me. He took me in. He looked after me, and he still does. He only ever has my best interests at heart."

"By beating you into submission?" said Cheetara, noting the various shades of brown and purple on his upper arms.

"Because he wants me to be strong."

"If you believe that, then there's no hope for you," she said, turning her back on him. "Go away. I can't help you, if you won't help yourself." Long after she had finished speaking, she was still aware of his presence and the feel of his intense gaze. Finally relenting, she looked over her shoulder and was shocked to see something like fear and desperation in his eyes.

"You have to show me how to use the Sword," he pleaded. "If not, well, Slithe, he's… promised to… to…"

"What?"

"He'll hurt you, bad this time." He lowered his gaze and his hands fell limply from the bars. "I… wouldn't want that. Cheetara is special to me and you are a lot like her."

It was how he said it that made her suddenly realise what his words had only hinted at. She glanced over at Panthro, who shrugged. "I can't cope with this," she murmured. "With each turn, it keeps getting worse."

"Welcome to reality," said Panthro.

And what a welcome it was, she thought. She was almost ready to drop down and cry, but a stronger urge kept her on her feet. She wanted to meet this double of hers, if only to find out if half the things she was hearing about her were true. Losing her composure now would achieve nothing. Instead, she scrabbled for any reason to be optimistic and found it in the downcast figure before her. Some small spark of the Lion-O she knew had to be in there somewhere. His desire to help, albeit in a misguided manner, showed that Slithe had not entirely crushed his spirit. It would take work and all her cunning, but she sure she could reach him.

She did so literally, by taking his hands in hers and squeezing them tightly. "Lion-O, listen to me," she said. "You did a brave thing, coming down here to warn me and I thank you. But know this. I am a Thundercat and will never bow to an evil such as Slithe's. Unless you can accept that, you will not be able to help me."

"But why do you say he is evil?" Lion-O said. "Such is the way of the world. The strong must dominate the weak."

"Is that what Slithe told you? No, Lion-O, the strong must protect the weak from people like Slithe. Like you must try to protect your friends."

"You mean Cheetara and you?"

"Partly. I also mean the other Thunderians."

He shook his head. "They hate me. Only you stuck up for me when Panthro tried to attack me."

"Are you surprised? When you so readily side with Slithe against them?"

"But why should I risk anything for them, when they would happily see me dead?"

Cheetara gave his hands a final squeeze of reassurance before releasing her hold. "Sometimes, Lion-O," she said, "we have to take a leap of faith and hope that we reach the other side."

He stared at her for a long moment, his thoughts unreadable, before finally turning and retracting his steps out of the cell. She felt certain that her words had made an impact, but whether it was enough to make a difference only time would tell. He had a long way to go, but if she could break his dogged devotion to Slithe, then at least it would be a step in the right direction.

"Anything else I should know about my double?" she asked Panthro when the sound of Lion-O's footsteps had receded into the distance.

"Nope," he replied, "that's about it. You might lead a quiet, boring life, but we don't. And you're wasting your time, by the way. With the cub, I mean. It's commendable, your trying, but it's not going to work."

"You don't know that. Everyone is capable of change, even you."

"Perhaps. You know Slithe won't be very impressed by this claim of yours about the Sword not working for evil."

"I can't help that."

"Nor yourself, it seems."

"We'll see," she murmured, sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest. "I hope."

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

"Lion-O?"

The little voice intruded into the midst of his bleaker thoughts and ended their sway over his mind. Glad to be free to them, he glanced down at the kitten stood by his side and felt his soul sink when he saw her worried expression.

"It's the Berbils," WilyKit said. "They're under attack."

A bald statement of fact, and yet it implied so much more. In the hours since he had finally had to admit that Cheetara and Sword of Omens were lost to them, probably for good, he had had plenty of time to think. At the heart of his dilemma was what to do now. On the plus side, they had the Lair and their weapons. They could probably resist a Mutant attack for a while, Panthro had assured him. Mumm-ra, however, was another matter. Without the Sword, they would be unable to hold him off for long. And then? Torture, slavery, death. None particularly appealing, all distinctly possible. Just the thought of it made him shudder.

Then there was the other option. He knew there were murmurs about leaving while there was still time. To his mind, it was nothing more than running away, something he refused to countenance. It amounted to an admission of defeat, that without the Sword they were no match for the evil elements of Third Earth. It would also be a betrayal of the trust placed in them by the Third Earthers who relied upon them for protection. No, they would not be running away, he resolved. They would stay and fight, until the very end, whenever that was.

Doing that, however, meant honouring obligations. With the Berbils under attack, their presence was expected. Their absence would send a clear message to all that something was amiss in Cat's Lair. So far, the news of their loss was limited. He intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

"Is Bengali here yet?" he asked the kitten.

"He's just arrived," said WilyKit.

"Good, then tell Panthro to get the Thundertank warmed up."

She hurried away to the hangar, leaving him to go in the opposite direction. As expected, he found Bengali in the infirmary, talking quietly with Pumyra. Tygra was asleep in one of the beds and, from the look Pumyra gave him as he entered the room, Lion-O guessed that the tiger's condition was not improving for the better.

"Do you have it?" he asked Bengali.

"Of course," he said, handing over a loosely wrapped bundle.

Peeling back the layers of cloth, Lion-O caught his breath when he saw an almost exact replica of the Sword of Omens staring up at him. "It's perfect," he said.

"As long as you remember it doesn't have the Sword's powers," said Bengali.

"I'm not likely to forget that," said Lion-O. "As long as it fools the Mutants, that's all that matters. Ready to put it to the test?"

Bengali gave him an uncertain glance. "What, like now, you mean?"

"The Berbils are under attack. They need our help."

"And who's going to help us?"

"We'll help us," said Lion-O. "Don't doubt it. Come on."

He led the way to the hangar, where Panthro and the twins were already waiting in the Thundertank. Seconds later, they were tearing across the open grasslands, towards the trees and the Berbil village, from where thin plumes of smoke were rising.

"How are we playing this, Lion-O?" Panthro asked.

"Carefully, I hope," said Bengali.

"Let's just see when we get there," said Lion-O. "Perhaps it won't be as bad as we think."

But as they cleared the forest, he knew they were in trouble. The village was in chaos. Berbils dashed about, variously waving their arms in panic or clutching their few meagre possessions. Above them, two Skycutters and a Nosediver circled ominously, firing random shots at the burning dwellings.

"Get the water cannons on those fires!" Lion-O shouted, jumping down from the tank. "Bengali, you're with me."

Above his head, the Mutants wheeled and changed direction as they saw a new target. Laser fire churned up the ground and would have split him in two had he not jumped clear with inches to spare. He was barely back on his feet when he had to dodge the low-flying Nosediver. As he rolled to one side, he caught a glimpse of Slithe's features twisted in an expression of thwarted fury. Then the craft was gone, disappearing behind the trees where the others had vanished.

A hand slid under his arm and Bengali helped him to his feet. "I suppose it's too much to hope that they've gone," the tiger said.

"We're not that lucky," Lion-O said, brushing dirt from his chest. "The next time they come--"

A scream, high-pitched and full of terror, drowned out the rest of his words. He glanced round in its general direction and saw to his horror that the Mutants had crept up behind them and ambushed WilyKit. High above the trees, Jackalman and Monkian held her suspended between their Skycutters by her arms and legs.

"Great Jaga," he breathed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bengali go for his hammer. He reached over and stopped him before he had a chance to fire. "No, you might hit WilyKit," he said.

"Wissse choice," came Slithe's gruff voice. He ambled into view with Vultureman following a few paces behind. "Drop your weaponsss or they'll drop that pretty little kitty."

Reluctantly, Lion-O tossed the Sword to the ground and indicated to Bengali to do the same. "Release her," he said.

Slithe grinned. "Not ssso fassst, Thundercat. We want information, yesss!"

"About?"

Vultureman stepped forward and eyed them with dislike and suspicion. "Awk, you think we don't know about the new weapon you've been testing?"

Lion-O exchanged glances with Bengali. This was unexpected. A little bluffing was in order, he decided. "How do you know about that?" he said.

"What, you think we're fools?" Vultureman spluttered with indignation. "I've been monitoring massive energy spikes coming from Cat's Lair. You don't have the capacity for such output, so you must have invented something."

"Sssomething we could ussse, yesss!" Slithe said. "Now, you'll tell usss about it or Monkian and Vultureman will tear your little friend apart!"

Lion-O nodded quickly. "Yes, you're right. It is a new weapon."

Vultureman cawed in triumph. "I knew it! What it is?"

"It's a… an anti-radiation… static energiser," he said hesitantly, looking to Bengali for help.

The tiger caught his meaning. "With a combined wave-inducing particle… expander," Bengali finished for him. "It's complex, but it's basically quite simple, if you know what I mean."

"What's he talking about?" growled Slithe, looking to Vultureman for an explanation.

"I have no idea," came the suspicious reply. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were talking nonsense. What is this… weapon?"

Lion-O adopted his most confident smile. "Oh, just a little something Tygra has been working on. It's fascinating, really. We tag an object with a radioactive marker and if happens to fall within the range of our weapon, well, that object literally self-combusts." He gave a small shrug. "I say object, but it works equally well on people too. Like you, Slithe," he added ominously, nodding to the Thundertank, which Panthro had pulled up behind the two Mutants. "Congratulations. You've just been tagged. Now, our weapon has a range of… oh, what is it, Bengali?"

"At least two miles," he said with some authority, "although Tygra's working on extending it."

A light sweat broke out across Slithe's forehead. "You've marked me?" he gasped, grabbing at his stomach and tail. "W-w-where?"

"Now that would be telling," said Lion-O. "The tag won't hurt you. But should you come within two miles of the Lair…"

"Boom!" said Bengali.

"You prize idiot!" Slithe roared, giving Vultureman a thump. "Do sssomething!"

"Do what?" he squawked with annoyance. "We only have their word for it, Slithe."

"That'sss good enough for me," the reptilian muttered. "Releassse the Thunderkitten! Let'sss get out of here!"

The two airborne Mutants lost no time in carrying out his command. Dropping WilyKit into Panthro's waiting arms, they fled as soon as they could get their Skycutters turned in the direction of Castle Plun-darr. Slithe was about to follow their example when Vultureman caught him by the arm and stopped him.

"Don't be a fool!" he hissed. "They're deceiving you!"

Slithe hauled his arm away. "Perhapsss," he said. "But I'm not hanging around to find out!" With that, he scurried back to his Nosediver and, without waiting for Vultureman, took off.

"I'll prove you're lying," Vultureman cried, waving his fist at them, "you see if I don't!"

Lion-O waited until he had vanished into the cover of the forest, then let out a sigh of relief. "That was too close," he said. "Are you all right, WilyKit?" She gave a small nod, enough to reassure him that she was none the worse for her experience.

"That was a smart move," said Panthro. "Not sure I believed it, but Slithe did."

"You mean, we don't have an anti-radiation… um… marking device?" said WilyKat. "Did you lie, Lion-O?"

"Well, Vultureman knew about the energy spikes caused by the opening of the gateway between our two worlds, but I couldn't tell him that. I may have bent the truth just a little."

"A lot," said Bengali. "Tygra's never mentioned a weapon like that."

Lion-O grinned. "Only because I haven't suggested the idea to him yet."

Panthro laughed. "A little bluff goes a long way. Good thing it worked too," he said, patting WilyKit on the head.

"Well, it should keep the Mutants away for a while," said Lion-O. "That can only work in our favour under the present circumstances. Which reminds me, I've had an idea!"

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

Another demand, another assault by fists and feet. It passed eventually, as it always did, leaving her with a ringing in her ears, blood in her mouth and a body full of pain. And still came the question.

"Tell me how the Sword works!" Slithe roared.

On reflection, it had seemed stupid to take a beating when she was sure that even if she did tell him, the information would be of little use. And to give Slithe his credit, he had warned her what would happen if she defied him. All the same, even telling him the command to bring the Sword of Omens to its full power had gone against everything she knew and held dear. Her only consolation had been that, as expected, when Lion-O had tried to use the weapon, he had failed. Slithe refused to believe her explanation and had taken his anger out on both of them.

Repeating it again seemed pointless and so she lay where she was, muscles cringing in anticipation of another beating. Slithe did not disappoint her. He brought her staff down across her kidneys with a ferocity that was growing every time she failed to answer. The world exploded behind her eyelids in a myriad of dizzying colours and she had to fight the rising need to rid herself of what little remained of the meal she had shared with Panthro.

"Well?" said Slithe from somewhere high above her. "I'm waiting."

Taking a deep breath, she forced down the burning bile in her throat and tried to think of another way of putting it to make him understand. "I can't make the Sword obey your commands," she said, surprising herself at the weakness of her voice. It sounded thin and quavering, and nothing like her at all. How much more would she have to endure before this nightmare was over, she wondered. "The Sword will not--"

"'Work for evil'," Slithe finished for her. "So you keep saying." She felt him take hold of a clump of her mane and as he raised his arm she was slowly, agonisingly dragged up to a kneeling position. Then, he brought his lips close to her ear, tightening his hold so that she could not draw away. "But you know what, slave? Evil is relative. Are we any worse than Mumm-ra and his spirits and cauldrons and concoctions?"

"Not much," she grated.

Slithe hissed something discouraging. He released her, pushing her back to the floor, and snapped his fingers at the two Brutemen who had brought her from her cell. They bowed and shuffled away, presumably, Cheetara guessed, to carry out some pre-arranged command.

"Thundercatssss," Slithe hissed, still keeping his back to her. "I remember them from the old days. All so noble, so 'brave'. But they always had a chink in their legendary armour. Do you know what it was, my dear?" He paused as the door opened and Bengali, Pumyra and the twins entered. "And here they are," he murmured, an evil light coming to his eyes.

"You sent for us, master?" Bengali said hesitantly.

He eyed the scene nervously, with good reason, Cheetara thought. It was hardly a happy gathering. Along with Panthro, she had swapped one bad situation for another. Except here, the other occupants of the room were all too eager to use their fists on unco-operative prisoners. They had slapped a Thundranium collar around Panthro's neck and forced him to his knees in the corner to await his punishment. Despite Slithe's scorn, he had been wary enough to have her hands bound tightly behind her back. After the first few beatings, her stomach muscles had hurt too much to try to get herself off the floor. If Slithe had not lifted her up, she guessed she would still be sprawled at his feet. Any hope she may have had that her words of earlier had had any affect on Lion-O were brutally dashed. He had stood by quietly and watched Slithe beat her to the ground. As much as she hated to admit it, she had to concede that Panthro had been right. Lion-O was a lost cause.

"You, WilyKat," Slithe barked. "Come here."

He did as he was told. Slithe led him over to Cheetara, positioning the cub in front of him. Lifting WilyKat's hand, he held it up, as though inspecting it. Then, very quickly, he bent the little finger back until it was at a right angle to the palm. WilyKat squirmed in Slithe's grasp and Cheetara saw his face crease with pain.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

"Then tell me how to make the Sword work!"

"I can't," she said, feeling desperation rising as Slithe tweaked WilyKat's finger back a little more. "It will never work for you, Slithe. Nothing you do to me or anyone else will change that."

His eyes narrowed a fraction, then there was a sickening crunch as he jerked back the finger. WilyKat dropped to the floor, clutching his injured hand and trying valiantly not to cry.

"You bastard," Cheetara swore, glaring at the reptilian.

"That was for addressing me by my given name," he replied. "You forget yourself, slave."

"I am not your slave."

"Really?" he sneered. "You have nothing, not even your freedom. You belong to me. I control your destiny. I say whether you live or die. That is power, not some nonsense about mystical weapons. You say the Sword will not work for us. Very well. Then we will do without it. But slaves, like you, are always useful… after, of course, a little instruction." He gave a low, nasty laugh. "Would anyone like to tell our latest recruit what we do to insolent slaves?"

As he spoke, she became suddenly aware of a presence coming up behind her. Before she could do anything about it, Monkian had grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. Jackalman appeared at her side and began to untie her hands. Then, he forced her left hand out in front of her. Slithe took it and held her firmly around the wrist.

"Do you know how we knew you weren't our Cheetara?" he smirked. "Because the last time she was insolent I cut off her little finger. I promised to cut off all her fingers if she ever spoke back to me again. After that, she was very obliging," he said, chuckling. "I offer you the same deal, slave. What do you say?"

"Get lost," she snarled. Further defiance was checked by Monkian twisting her other arm up her back. Already sore muscles groaned as they were slowly pushed beyond endurable limits. Cheetara bit her lip and tried to resist the urge to cry out.

"What's the matter, pretty kitty?" Jackalman cackled. "Not so cocky now, are you?"

Slithe pulled out a wicked looking knife and tested it on the palm of her outstretched hand. It slid into her flesh, leaving a thin line of red in its wake.

"Perfect," he said. "Our Cheetara screamed until she was sick when I removed her finger. You aren't going to disappoint us, are you?"

So saying, he pressed the blade against the base of her little finger. She felt the pressure increase, felt it begin to bite into her skin, felt metal grate against bone. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the strength to deny him the pleasure of seeing how much it hurt her.

"No!"

At the sound of the voice, the knife was abruptly removed. Cheetara opened her eyes to see that Lion-O had stepped into the centre of the room and was now levelling the Sword of Omens at Slithe.

"What did you just say?!" the reptilian roared.

"I won't let you hurt my friends any more!" Lion-O yelled.

"Friends?" Slithe spluttered, growing incandescent with rage. "When have these wretches ever been your friends, you ungrateful whelp?"

"They deserve better than to have to wait hand and foot on you!" came the defiant reply. "You'll not use us any more." He held the Sword aloft and the cry went up. "Thunder, Thunder, Thunder, Thundercats, Ho!"

And this time the Sword of Omens reacted. The Eye of Thundera glowed and the hall was flooded with red light and the roar of its fury. The Mutants scattered, and Cheetara was dropped to the floor as panic ensued. Beneath her, she felt the floor begin to shake. Lumps of plaster rained down from the ceiling as long cracks appeared. The castle was crumbling under the sheer force of the Sword's power. Time to leave, she thought, snatching up her staff that Slithe had abandoned in his headlong flight. But when she tried to get up, her legs trembled and buckled. Inches away, a wooden beam came crashing to the ground. Then, a hand went under her arm and she looked up to find Lion-O at her side.

"You said I had to take a leap of faith," he said softly. "I'm sorry it took so long."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Better late than never. Come on, let's go."

He helped her to the door and out into the corridor where the others had taken shelter.

"What happened?" Bengali demanded. "What was that light?"

"You can't stay here," Cheetara said. "This place is going to collapse."

"But where will we go?"

"Who cares?" said Panthro, as Pumyra helped him out of the Thundranium collar. "Let's leave the details till later."

He set off down the corridor in the direction of the main doors. Still leaning on Lion-O for support, Cheetara started to follow, but then glanced back. Pumyra and the twins were hurrying after them, but Bengali held back. His eyes met hers and she saw his indecision.

"You have to come!" she yelled to him. "Do you want to die here?"

An age seemed to pass while he made up his mind. Finally, to her relief, he broke into a run and caught up with them. On they went, through a growing haze of dust and the fearful creaking of the fractured building, and out into the fading light of day. Only when they had made it to the cover of the forest did Cheetara stop and look back. Castle Plun-darr gave one final, pitiful groan and collapsed in on itself.

"What have we done?" Bengali murmured. "This is insane."

"No," Cheetara said. "This is freedom."

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