Journeys

The wanderer stood before a column of crystal. Diffuse light clung to the trees surrounding her. The faceted surface of the crystal reflected multiple images of a young white tigress. Umber stripes patterned a darkening ivory mane, and her small, slender body. The lighter fur of her face glistened against the brown markings of her forehead, nose and cheeks. Her dark blue eyes held many questions. She placed a claw against a facet. The visions of herself rippled into sparkling colors.

Talitha. The beautiful face carried a name to which she no longer felt a connection. She slowly withdrew her claw. The colors settled back into discrete images.

Except for her name, she remembered nothing. A zephyr lifted the white border of her mane. The distant music of the River called to her from beyond the shadowed wood, and promised knowledge. She looked to a cluster of trees, and marked the faint tracings of a path.

"Goodbye," she said to her pensive selves. Treading silver, the wanderer set her foot to the path.

*****

The tigress lay hidden amidst the long grass. The forest had opened onto a broad, starlit plain. The trail of silver that bled from her feet had progressively slowed her pace and hindered her journey to the River. She hoped that the waters would sunder the link that kept her bound to the crystal source of her wanderings.

A brilliant star rose above the horizon. Despite her fatigue, she was eager to receive the teaching of the River. She resumed her quest with only the stars for company.

A shift in the wind brought her to full attention. A sphere of light suddenly ignited the grass in the distance. A tall, winged figure emerged unscathed from the blaze that had blackened the earth. The spirit, beautiful in his nakedness, grimly scanned the plain until his gaze found her. The massive orange wings lifted him and propelled him toward her with great speed. As he flew, he chanted her name in a desperate mantra that contained the unfamiliar. Each time he uttered the strange word, her soul burned with the fire that had born him, until the fire finally opened her memory.

Tygra! With the gift of his name, she knew the being to be her friend. With her discovery, fear died. She tried to run into his welcoming arms, but an invisible barrier imprisoned her. The tiger roared his rage and flung himself against the unseen wall. Anger made of his face an angry wound. Blood spilt from his hands as he tried to break through the shield to her.

She cried for his pain, and the path that had been denied to him. The tiger locked his frantic eyes onto her as if trying to capture every detail of her being. *Tygra!* The love for him that she had not realized that she had possessed blossomed in her psychic cry. With his naming, a smile fluttered across his sad face. As he reached for her once more, he gently vanished.

With his passing, the tigress escaped her prison. She fell onto the ground, and wept.

*****

On the edge of the forest, I found her. Illuminated by the cold starlight of the darkest hour of the night, she wore the blue robes of healing as was her privilege and her duty. Her spirituality cloaked her in violet folds, soft and feminine. About her waist, she carried the green belt of fertility.

In that moment, a tiny eternity, my heart flickered then flamed. To my decayed state, life returned. With the choice of life came great joy and the gift of her name: Talitha!

To my mystic, my other, I ran. Beyond the experience of happiness, I sang her name and my name with each fleet step. As I drew closer, she quietly appraised me with eyes that defined blue. When I could not reach her, I finally understood the sadness that fell with her every tear, and the infinite distance that parted us.

Only once, she played the instrument of my mind with the melody of my name. Weaving the song to a close, she drew the night about herself, and transformed into light.

I awoke to the rising sun, but my soul returned to its crypt.

Tygra placed his pen on the table. The paper before him shifted color. The bold script danced between sun and shadow. The sixtieth dawn without the mystic had arrived.

The tiger rose stiffly from the pile of cushions set next to a low table. Since her death, his life had ebbed like the drying ink that recorded his dream. He crossed to the standing mirror, and pitied his reflection. The amber eyes that regarded him held a weariness that no measure of sleep had alleviated. The coarse woolen robe that hung loosely on his body only made his loss of weight more evident.

Tygra stroked his face and easily felt the bones beneath the thin flesh. Would he be alive in another sixty days? he wondered. Every breath was a struggle against the overwhelming desire to give himself to the silence.

His loyalty to his king had kept life in his body, but it could no longer shoulder the weight of his burden. His battle against himself had torn him apart, and had left its mark in his physical deterioration. The dream that had broken his rest now made him question the stability of his mind, for the world it had presented seemed clearer than the haze that his life had become.

Tygra looked through the windows to the barren landscape that heralded the approach of winter, and made a decision that he had long delayed. He would relinquish his position as the leader of the Thundercat council, and recommend to Lion-o that Cheetara take his place. As lost as he was, he knew that he was no longer worthy to give advice to the Lord of the Thundercats.

The architect shivered despite the heat in his room. The winter in his soul had allowed him no comfort. He exited his chamber, and reviewed the arguments necessary to countermand Lion-o's resistance to his proposal.

*****

The tigress surveyed the desert before her. Since her night encounter, her desire for the knowledge that the River possessed had grown stronger because of her love for Tygra. Sand and sun would make travel difficult, but her only hope for a reunion with him existed in the magical waters beyond the dunes.

A hot wind blew sand onto the thin line of grass at her feet.

Although her silver chains pulled her back to the beginning point, the music of the River urged her onward. She moved from the shelter of the grass, and began her desert crossing.

*****

Cheetara gazed into a bowl of water. Goddess of Fate, please give me the sight, she prayed. Her relaxation deepened with each slow breath that she took. The smooth surface of the blue vessel presented a comforting ground for her mind work.

In the palace of Claudus, a true seeress had tired to help her to harness her ability by teaching her to divine using water. She had seen in the waters but one time. She had not understood the vision given to her so many seasons past, but she had instinctively known that it had concerned her and Tygra. Except for the one image, her study with the white tigress had failed. Inheritance had repressed her gift. Of all the Thunderan races, only the white tigers had full access to a wide range of mind gifts. The red tigers, like Tygra, were less blessed, but unlike her, they had some control over their powers. Her unique ability was hopelessly unpredictable. Information arrived in sudden insights or dreams, but often the message came too late or was unclear.

Cheetara stared at her watery reflection. The spirals in the glaze drew her within herself. "Please," she pleaded, "I only ask for his sake. My friend is dying." Pinpoints of light swam before her eyes. For a painful instant, the water clouded into an image: a white shape moved through a dense forest. Vertigo quickly ended her trance. "No!" With a violent motion, Cheetara swept the bowl off the low table before her. It struck the stone floor, and cracked upon impact.

Bitter failure! To have seen, and yet, to have gained nothing! Cheetara rested her head upon her arm. No mercy for Tygra. Her gaze wandered to the broken pot. Tygra is as that vessel, she thought sadly. It can no longer hold water, and he can no longer hold onto life.

A tear trickled down her face. To watch the architect weaken had been painful, for in his decline, she had relived the passing of her mother. Purpose and love had bonded her parents. When her father had died unexpectedly, her mother had followed him to the silence only days later despite all of her attempts to prevent her passing.

She also knew that the tiger's fading had paralleled her own experience. During her first and only fertility, she had secretly given herself to the captain of the palace guard. Char'ran was a warrior of renown, but not of noble birth. He had died saving Tygra during the Mutant raid on the royal nursery. She had never blamed the tiger for her loss, but had avoided him and all others who had tried to help her. She had almost died from grief for the lover who had been taken, and the cub she had miscarried. Only Tygra's stubborn friendship had saved her from journeying to the silence. In the suns that followed the massacre, his caring grew into a passion that restored her, and when spent, had transformed into a special friendship.

Cheetara breathed deeply to end her tears. She moved to the windows, and cast back the heavy curtains. Anger replaced her sorrow, and strengthened her determination to help her friend.

*****

Tygra knocked softly on the door to Lion-o's room. "Enter!" The cheery summons served to make the tiger more despondent as he crossed into the chamber. The young lion, dressed only in a large bath towel which draped his hips, stood next to an open window. With a smaller cloth, he vigorously rubbed the wet mass of his red mane. With the eye not covered by fabric, he marked his visitor. "Tygra, have you seen how bright the sun is? Looks like it will be a fine day."

"One last stand of the autumn against the long darkness of winter, my lord." His somber reply removed the smile from Lion-o's face. The younger Thundercat dropped onto a pile of cushions scattered on an oval rug. With a broad gesture, he commanded that the tiger sit.

Tygra perched instead on the edge of the bed. The architect kept his sight on his hands. "My lord," he said quietly, "I must resign as the leader of council."

The tiger had expected the youth to voice his objections immediately; however, the lion replied politely, "At least tell me why, Tygra. You have never given any of us ill counsel."

You bear the mark of your father after all, and will rule wisely, Tygra thought with pride. His voice broke as he answered the question before him. "I--feel I cannot think clearly, my lord. Although Talitha died sixty suns past, I--I have not been able to resolve my grief."

"These things take time, Tygra," Lion-o said sympathetically. "That is what Jaga always said. We know that you were closest to her. I can't imagine how it must feel to...care...as you did."

"It more than simple grief, my lord. I have kept this secret from everyone, but I will tell you it now. On that evil day, I experienced Talitha's death. In that instant, a piece of my soul traveled with her to the silence. Lion-o, I can give you no proof, but somehow, we were connected on an intangible level."

"You mean a type of psychic bond?"

"Yes. Since then, dreams of her have invaded my sleep. They have become so real that upon awakening, I doubt my own reality. If, in my turmoil, I cannot distinguish what is real, and what is fantasy, how long will it take before I descend into madness? This is why I am no longer fit to lead the council, my lord. You must put Cheetara in my place."

Lion-o remained silent for several minutes as he considered the tiger's request. The architect kept to the study of his hands as he waited for his lord's decision.

"Tygra." The sound of his name severed his contemplation. Tygra inadvertently lifted his eyes to his king. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to resign."

"My lord! I--"

Lion-o quickly interrupted his plea. "Practically speaking, Tygra, you are too valuable to lose. If I release you from your obligation, I feel that you will move further away from us because our welfare will be of less concern to you. Besides, we are all worried sick about you, and quite frankly, if I opened the matter to council, I believe that the others would refuse your request, and for the same reasons as I."

"So be it," the tiger conceded solemnly.

"Tygra, you make it sound as if I just sentenced you to death. Isn't there anything that I can do that will help you? I wish Jaga had advised me in this matter, but it has been many suns since he last communicated with me from beyond the grave, as you know."

The tiger crossed to the open window, and studied the land beyond. The trees at the edge of the plain swayed slightly in the rising wind. As he studied the forest, an idea formed in his mind; it offered no promises. "Possibly," he murmured. He watched the drifting clouds for a time before continuing. "Have you ever heard of a questing, my lord?" he finally asked.

"Quite common among the tiger clans, is it not?"

"Indeed, and often undertaken when life presents a problem that defies a solution."

"What does this require?" Lion-o asked thoughtfully.

"I must seek a place that speaks to my soul, my lord. Once there, I will hold a vigil for the length of a day, and pray for guidance. As a matter of purification, I will take no nourishment during this time except for water "

Lion-o approached the tiger, and set his hands on his shoulders. "You know how the failure of my suspension capsule during our long journey to Third Earth robbed me of my most personal memories. What little I can remember of my life on Thundera, also seems but a dream. I cannot deny you the opportunity to find that which you have lost."

Tygra grasped Lion-o's arms, and dropped to his knees. "Thank you, my lord!"

The lion pulled him back to his feet. "We must inform the others, Tygra."

"I shall call a council for this afternoon. Cheetara and Panthro understand the ritual. Even if they do not approve, they will support me if they believe the questing will help."

"You must promise me, Tygra, that you will take your bolo-whip, and limit your trip to the signal range of the Sword of Omens."

The tiger nodded. "A more than fair demand, Lion-o. Now, I must leave, so that I may prepare."

"Oh no, Tygra. You can wait a few minutes with me while I get dressed. Then, we are going to the dining hall, and have Snarf fix you some breakfast. You're too thin as it stands. No need to start your fast just yet!"

*****

Cheetara balanced a tray across her arm as she knocked on the door to Tygra's room. I hope that I can get him to take even the smallest amount of this food, she thought. Then, I'll try to nourish his soul. Eventually, he must surrender to me.

A barely audible, "Enter," gave her the permission she needed to cross into the dimly lit room. She found Tygra sitting on the ugly chair that he had grown to prize. Despite her arrival, he still stared at the open windows, and the forest beyond the plain.

The late autumn winds had cooled the room drastically. Cheetara placed her tray on the low table, then approached the row of windows. "There are faster ways to kill yourself, architect, then catching a chill. Why waste the Lair's heat," she scolded as she closed each tall window in turn.

The tiger ignored her denunciation. Cheetara studied his face for a clue to his emotions; he continued to look impassively at the night. Such insolence! she thought angrily. Why am I wasting my time. "Tygra!" she shouted. A flash of anger darted across his eyes. She noticed too late the small doll that rested on his lap. "The kittens have been here?" she asked.

"Yes." His tone was quiet and resigned. "The young ones returned him to me so that I would not have to journey alone."

The doll, which had the form of a red tiger, and wore a long white tunic, which the inhabitants of the southern region of Thundera had commonly used, appeared almost as forlorn as its owner. Cheetara recalled how the architect had given the toy to the kittens to ease their unspoken fears after they had arrived on Third Earth. The youngsters cherished the little figure, one of the few possessions remaining from Tygra's youth.

The brooding architect gently caressed the doll's worn face. The kitten's sacrifice had obviously touched him. Regarding her, Tygra said curtly, "What brings you to me, cheetah. Unlike the kittens, Lion-o and Snarf, you were almost as vehement in your disapproval of my questing as Panthro, although you both finally conceded to my request. Are you here to voice your opposition once again?"

Clanless bastard! Cheetara stormed toward the table in order to give her anger time to cool. It is his illness of heart that speaks, she thought as she fiddled with the tray. When her hurt had subsided, she spoke calmly. "I've brought you some fish, and something that I know that you cannot resist: freshly baked Balkin bread."

"Thank you, but I am not hungry."

Infuriated once again by his dismissal, Cheetara leapt at the tiger. She grabbed the doll from him before he could react. The architect gasped. Fear stained his proud face. His reaction tore at her heart, but she did not relinquish the doll. "You must eat something!" she demanded.

"And you will give him back!" The pathetic gauge of his voice shattered her determination to win. She stood before Tygra. The fiery mane, his finest feature, was unkempt and dry. The hands that reached for the doll were thin. When she returned the toy, the sad tiger pulled it to his chest, and began to rock the figure slowly as a father would his cub. Watching his display with amazement, Cheetara wondered whether anything she could do would help Tygra. He had fallen into a state far worse than she had encountered in her despair.

Cheetara lightly touched his wrist. In her foolishness, she had hoped to finally conquer his impotence, and join with him before his arduous quest. She now realized that she would be fortunate to get him to eat. Whatever will bind you to the earth, and not the silence, Tygra, I will support, she decided. Perhaps only the quest can truly help you now. I've done all that I can do for you.

Cheetara kissed the top of his mane. May the gods protect you, Tygra, she prayed. She left his room in silence.

*****

Tygra stood in the shadow of the pyramid. The setting sun shaded the fine limestone scarlet. The black robe that he wore undulated slightly with the wind. He removed his bolo-whip from the knot in the rope belt that gathered the loose-fitting gown. He shrugged off the small pack, which contained his water skin, a cloak and his cloth companion. As he set his belongings down on the warm sand, he contemplated his journey.

Before dawn, he had slipped out of Cats' Lair without detection. He had followed the River south until he had reached the village of the Balkins. While resting among the sheep people, he had explained his situation to the ram elder, and had petitioned for assistance with river passage. When he was ready to continue, a volunteer had ferried him across the swift waterway in a study wooden canoe. The thoughtful balkin ewe had promised to wait for his return, and had refused compensation for her efforts. Once past the river obstacle, he traveled southeast at a slow pace. Sparse forest had soon changed into plain, then desert. When he had arrived at the pyramid of Meryt, he remained alert to the fact that the castle of the Mutants, and the fortress of the evil Seti lay dangerously close to his questing site. Unlike the persistent Mutants, the demon priest had not appeared since his slaying of the mystic, and the priestess. As the shadows lengthened, Tygra hoped that Mumm-Ra would not choose this time to resurface.

"Not much I can do if he wants to destroy me," Tygra muttered with resignation. He set aside his musings, and knelt on the sand. He traced a protective circle about himself. The architect bowed to the north, the source of all wisdom, and prayed, "Ever merciful Mrísena, heal this soul which has broken. Give me the strength to serve my lord and my companions. Help me to understand the silence that comes for all. I open my heart to your wisdom, and your healing."

Tygra sat back on his legs, and placed his hands on his thighs. The wind blew stronger across the sands. The pensive Thundercat waited for a sign.

*****

Bundled in his cloak, Tygra sat quietly on the sand. In the absence of a fire, the night chill bore through his clothing and his fur. The sky was a dark canvas painted with stars. The moon cut the heavens in its descent to the west. The tiger rested his head on his knees. A heaviness hung about his body as he struggled to stay awake. I feel as solid as a column of stone sunk deep into the land, he decided. He spotted a movement in the darkness. The architect followed the swirling path that the unseen creature carved in the sand until he lost sight of it at the base of the pyramid.

Tygra watched the north. On the black land beyond, a hazy ball of light condensed. This was the sign he had so patiently sought! He tried to call out, but discovered that he could neither move nor speak. Like the ancient pyramid, he had become a stone guardian of the desert, and a mute witness to the life around him.

The strange light solidified into two figures. A red tiger who held a crystal sphere knelt on the sands. Tygra realized with surprise that the grim individual was himself; he recognized the pose as one that he had taken during each healing session that he had endured with the mystic.

A white tigress sat behind the figure, and set her fingers along his mane. Talitha! With the recognition of his beloved mystic, a familiar pain rose in the Thundercat's heart.

The pretty apparition said to his other self, "Excellent, Tygra. Maintain the breathing rhythm that you have established. I'm ready to link to you." A soft moan escaped the red ghost's lips. "Easy," his white counterpart chided, "you'll do just fine."

The architect knew with certainty that the specter of himself would fail to reach the healing state that he worked so hard to achieve. According to prediction, the ghost Tygra cried in pain as his body reacted to the disruption of his failure. The gathering crystal that he held filled with the blue light of his misspent energy, which the mystic had skillfully redirected. The glowing sphere slid from his hands.

The tigress released her student. He doubled over, and cursed quietly. She massaged the tense muscles of his neck, and said gently, "You were almost there, Tygra. It will come." Her words faded on the wind as she and her companion disappeared.

"Wait!" The word exploded across the desert. Tygra, now free of his paralysis, wildly searched for the ghostly pair, but met with no success. As he dropped back into the sacred circle, he noticed that the moon had almost set. He placed his hands against his throbbing skull. He reared up and roared, "Mrísena, why do you torture me so!"

He wept until sleep claimed him.

*****

Burdened by the elements and her silver chains, the tigress crawled along the dunes. Although the sun sat low on the western horizon, the ground beneath her still burned the flesh under her pelt. A harsh wind tossed sharp specks of sand against her face. Her eyes ached from the torment inflicted by the merciless sun. I can go no further, she decided. The spent tigress halted, and stretched across the sands. The promises of the River moved beyond her hopes.

The taunting wind suddenly softened into the unmistakable music of a harp. Amidst the dunes, a haven of tall palms had appeared. With the last of her strength, the tigress scrambled toward the oasis. At the edge of the trees, she faltered.

The grass cooled her damaged skin. She grasped the blades, and tried to pull herself completely under the protective cover that the palms afforded, but failed. The harp music ceased.

So it ends. The touch of a hand against her face transformed her despair into surprise. A white tiger stood above her. Stripes as black as the night patterned a white pelt that carried no taint of brown. His amethyst eyes matched the o'ba'ti that draped from his hips to his ankles. The tiger with the beauty of a god said in a silken voice, "If you will allow me to help you, I will take you to water."

"Yes." She ran her hand along his arm. "Please." The stranger was tall and slender. Despite his delicate appearance, he carried her with ease. Only his intense eyes held firm in a handsome face that changed with the shadows.

He placed her beside a marbled pool. The tigress viewed her image as she leaned over the basin of clear water. The stress of her journey had marred her face. Dust and reddened eyes had destroyed the air of delicate beauty that she had once possessed. She ignored her thirst and stared at her reflection with horror.

The tiger reclined beside her. He wet his hand with water, then delicately traced her lips. The cool liquid burned her flesh. The stranger rubbed his face along her shoulder, and purred, "Drink, little one, and all will be restored to you. Forget the false River. Stay with me." He moved his hand down the curve of her back. His caress rivaled the desert heat. "I will give you all that you desire, and more. Behold!"

The air vibrated with golden light. Before her materialized a kingly feast. Gems that filled an open chest glittered like jeweled insects. The tiger selected a pale fruit, and offered it to her. "Satisfy yourself," he murmured.

Compared to his magnificent display of power, the offerings of the River waned. My life is here, the tigress thought. She took the fruit. Her lord's eyes deepened to black. A smile of triumph settled on his too perfect face. For an instant, she hesitated.

Swiftly the tiger wrapped himself about her. His hard flesh pressed against her back; his warm breath moistened her dusty mane. Her ardor replaced her fear. He raised her weak arm to bring the succulent delicacy to her dry mouth. "Eat." The veiled command hissed like steam. The smooth surface of the fruit brushed her lips.

Why had she feared? she wondered. Her tongue flicked across the skin. Never had anything tasted sweeter. Why had it been so important to journey to the River?

The tiger moved his free hand to her abdomen. Pleasure followed his circular strokes. "Eat, and I will fill you," he promised sweetly.

A cool wind invaded the oasis, and carried a cryptic message. The tigress carefully repeated the unfamiliar word. "Tygra." What did it mean? She set her teeth to the fruit. The fronds above her danced madly. "Tygra...yes...I remember now." Her heart opened to the love that she had hoped to share with the architect. Despite the stranger's strong grip on her wrist, she managed to let the fruit fall from her hand. It split open on the grass. Tiny worms crawled in its decayed center.

The white tiger screamed. His body tightened about her. The tigress managed to free one of her arms from his hold with a sudden twist. To her astonishment, a serpentine head loomed above her. Only the violet eyes framed by emerald scales marked the hideous creature as the being who had helped her. In its rage, it constricted its coiled body, and squeezed the breath from her. With one desperate swing, the tigress struck the evil eyes with her claws. A howl of agony echoed throughout the oasis. The blinded serpent thrashed free, then slithered away into the grass.

The quaking tigress stared at the blood on her hand. Filled with disgust, she quickly wiped her hand clean on the grass. Afraid of the serpent's return, she forced herself to her feet. "I must move on!" she vowed.

She pushed past grass and palm until free of the dangerous retreat. Twilight shrouded the land before her. Desert had given way to rocky plain. The rumble of the River sounded closer than ever. "No more suffering!" she pleaded as she walked toward the mysterious waters.

*****

An endless snake encircled the tiger. It ruthlessly compressed the flesh and bone trapped in its coils. The struggling cat freed one of his arms. He ripped the triangular head from its slender body. Acid-blood splattered his face.

With a shriek, Tygra awoke from his night terror. He breathed with relief as his eyes adjusted to the grey-light that presaged the dawn. Suddenly, the air began to hiss. Careful not to move, the tiger merely glanced to his right. The hooded serpent waved from side to side as it prepared to strike. Goddess help me! Tygra prayed. I have but one chance. The Thundercat tapped into his mind gift, and cloaked himself with the illusion of invisibility.

The confused snake battered the sand in response to the conflicting signals heat and smell sent to its primitive brain. Moving erratically, it inadvertently slid over the invisible tiger's abdomen. The architect choked his cry, but the action disrupted his concentration and his illusion.

The snake shot toward him. With no safe options remaining, Tygra depended on his superior reflexes. He caught the serpent by its head. Before it could bite, he flung it across the sands with all his might. The reptile struck the pyramid. As it fell, it spun about in a bizarre dance. In moments, it was dead.

Tygra lay back on the sands. The use of his mind power had drained him considerably; despite his weakness, he recognized that to remain any longer at the pyramid would not only be unproductive, but dangerous. Mrísena has given me a vision, and my life, he thought. I have no right to ask for more.

As he gathered his belongings, he reflected on his offering to the Goddess. A sacrifice must be given from the heart. He pulled the little doll from his pack. Since the kittens gave you back to me, I suppose there was never any other choice. He stroked its ragged mane, and said quietly, "Farewell, my friend."

He placed the figure at the north point of the circle. He bowed, and said, "Please accept this gift. He holds all that remains of my heart." For several minutes, the great cat knelt silently in meditation.

As the sun finally rose, he ended his vigil. Devoid of emotion, he walked toward the northwest, and began his journey back to the River, and home.

*****

Tygra reclined on his bed. The moonlight cast shadows that mimicked the slender threads of a web. And like the spider's prey, I am caught in life, he thought with gloom. The vision that Mrísena had provided had offered little comfort.

The Thundercat left his bed, and approached the low table situated at the center of his room. He retrieved the gathering sphere that sat on its surface. The message of the Goddess had been clear. His duty demanded that he harness the mystic power within himself. Although he had made several attempts to achieve the healing state since Talitha's death, he had not succeeded. The only positive effect of his efforts had been that he had avoided the madness that afflicted those who foolishly chose not to use their mystic gift. He had even become expert at directing his failure into the crystal, and releasing the captured energy into the earth with a song. If I do show my worthiness by persisting, maybe Mrísena will send someone to teach me, for I will not endanger anyone but myself by experiment, he decided.

Tygra returned the crystal to the table. As he walked back toward his bed, he saw his shadowy reflection in the standing mirror. He asked the thin figure in the glass, "Have you learned, Tygra, that sometimes it is faith alone that is required to find solutions to the impossible?" The grave image looked back with doubt.

Even a cordial homecoming had not assuaged the disconnection that now plagued him. He had promised Lion-o that with the dawn, he would begin anew. He had pledged to sift through Talitha's possessions, and clear the room that she had called her own. He had felt nothing during his brave speech. He had left his feelings in the desert with his offering and his dreams.

Tygra ran his hands along his flat belly, and down to his sex, but kindled no response. Since that evil day, he had remained as dead as any o'tam'ti. He dropped onto his bed, and buried his face into his pillow. Gods, am I defeated before I even begin? Mrísena, how can I do your bidding if I cannot feel? Wind rattled the panes of the arched windows in reply. The Thundercat withdrew under his blanket. I am as cold as the approaching winter, and as dead as the land. Goddess have mercy on my soul.

*****

The tigress stood before the River. The water crashed against partially submerged rocks, and sent plumes high into the air with each collision. Barely discernible in the twilight, a dense line of trees hid the misty land on the opposite shore. The River itself emerged from silvery fog, and vanished back into it downstream.

The tigress set her silvered foot on a wet stone. To receive the River's wisdom, I need to cross it. If I falter, all will be taken in these treacherous waters. Do I have the courage to take this last step? she wondered. Is my desire to find Tygra strong enough to carry me across?

She slowly entered the River. The trees beyond swayed in a nonexistent wind as she approached the center of the stream. The tigress halted. The silver chains at her feet illuminated the water softly. To her amazement, the spot where she stood was calm. As she pondered the unusual change in the flow, a stately figure emerged from the wood.

The tiger raised his hand in greeting. His white robe billowed in the false breeze. He asked in a rich voice, "Who are you?"

She quickly catalogued his features. His amber eyes had known great sadness. The part of her that had been a mystic yearned to heal his pain. She began to answer his question, but stopped. She wondered in dismay, Who am I? Her name had fled downstream. Goddess, why can't I remember!

The tall tiger asked again with insistence, "Who are you?"

I must recall my name, she thought frantically. She studied her interrogator in the hopes of learning the answer to his question. He seems so familiar. The strong nose, and striking carriage. Orange fur patterned like a northerner. The tigress began to shiver in the cold water. "Goddess, help me!" she cried as her name continued to elude her.

The tiger did not speak, but his eyes pleaded with her: Look into your heart!

She whimpered. She no longer knew anything. She was truly lost. The tiger shook his head sadly. He ventured into the River, and easily sliced through the turbulent current with his large frame. As he drew closer, the tigress learned the River's secret. If I go with him, I will find the silence.

He offered his hand. "Come, little one. Even if you do not understand, you have made your decision."

But I don't want to go to the silence! His voice. I must find his name to discover mine. An answer broke through her desperation. "You have Tygra's voice," she shouted. Was it hope that touched his eyes? She pointed a finger at him in defiance as another answer manifested. "But you are Siberan, Tygra's father," she snarled.

A fleeting smile passed his lips, as if he had decided that she had mistaken him for someone else. "Little one, by all you hold dear, who are you?"

In the flowing water, she heard her name. "Talitha!" she roared. "I am Talitha!"

For her response, the stranger pushed her off of her feet. The strong current beyond the calm carried the frightened tigress swiftly downstream. As she drowned in water, mist and silver, the tiger's booming voice filled her mind.

*Until you have surrendered the name, you cannot cross. Go, and help my son.*

*****

In the icy ocean, waves of demons attacked the tiger cub. Tygra flailed his arms to stay afloat, but a devil overcame him. Water rushed into the cub's nose and mouth. His lungs filled with death.

The roaring tiger fell from his bed onto the stone floor. "Jaga be blessed!" Tygra freed himself of the tangle of bed linen, and ran toward the windows. Feel trapped! He opened the largest one, then took a long breath of frigid air. The brightening sky beckoned. Must be free! I must see the dawn, he thought feverishly. The Thundercat fled his chamber. As an arrow to its target, he made for the entrance to Cats' Lair.

The architect descended one of the two broad ramps that led to the audience hall. He ran past the series of sculpted columns that supported the vaulted chamber. Tygra fell against the wall, and punched into the control panel the code that unlocked the huge doors. Must hurry, or I will not see the dawn! A vise closed about his chest. His labored breathing echoed in the empty hall. Done! With the last of his strength, he opened the doors, and crossed to the outside. He walked several paces before falling onto the marbled steps,

To weak to rise, the Thundercat lay on his back. Resigned to his fate, he watched the morning star fade as the light intensified, and drove back the night. The footfalls of a runner mingled with the sound of his racing heart. Cheetara knelt beside him, and occluded the faint star. He raised his hand, and traced the dark spots that patterned her golden mane. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

Tygra suddenly felt as insubstantial as a cloud. To his astonishment, he looked down from a great height onto Cats' Lair. His naked body lay still. The cheetah began to push hard on his chest. As he followed the scene that played far below, a strange peace enveloped him. With mild regret, Tygra turned away from the drama, and offered himself to the sun.

The star consumed him. He serenely floated along a shaft of light. A luminous tiger waited for him at the center of the sun. With joyful recognition, Tygra cried, "Father!"

"Not yet, my son," the elder replied sadly. Siberan struck a blow that sent the startled Thundercat through the tunnel of light. Tygra disappeared into the void.

*****

The mystic clawed the darkness. The air reverberated with her roars.

"Talitha!"

"Who!" As her eyes opened, the tigress ceased her struggles against the being who restrained her. She focused on the woman dimly outlined with light. "By all the gods of Thundera! Meryt!"

Shrouded in linen bandages that left only her hands and face visible, the priestess said quietly, "By the grace of Isis and Nephthys, you have returned from the realm between life and death."

Death? Talitha pawed her garment and her body to substantiate her reality. She searched her confused memory. Her last thought had been of Tygra as Mumm-Ra's fireball had engulfed her and Meryt. Before she could question her friend, the woman pulled her off of the stone slab upon which she had rested. Although weak, the mystic managed to stand.

"All will be explained later, Talitha, but now you must go!"

"But Meryt--" The priestess and the darkened tomb vanished in a haze of golden light.

*****

The mystic materialized at the courtyard of Cats' Lair. A lament emanated from the hunched figure kneeling on the steps nearest the entrance. "Don't do this to me, Tygra," Cheetara cried bitterly. "Come back!"

Despite her fatigue and bewilderment, Talitha dashed up the staircase in response to the urgent summons. Her miraculous appearance brought a gasp from the surprised cheetah who immediately stopped her ministrations on the prone tiger. Quickly assessing the severity of the situation, Talitha commanded, "Continue your efforts, Cheetara!" The other female resumed her actions without question. The mystic knelt beside Tygra. She had no choice but to slowly enter the healing state. Although only seconds had passed, it seemed to take an eternity for her power to open. When she was ready, Talitha summoned a potent wave of healing. Radiant blue light shot forth from her hands, and into the tiger's chest. His body jolted with the sudden infusion of psychic energy.

Talitha immediately withdrew her power. If the strong healing had not worked, the Thundercat was doomed. She gently placed her hand against his neck. A weak pulse fluttered under her fingers. She moved her hand under his nose, and marked the warmth of his shallow breaths.

"Mrísena be praise and blessed," she said in relief. She lightly touched the cheetah who still attempted to resuscitate the tiger. "He is alive, swift one. You can stop." The reassuring message unfortunately made the cheetah sob and shake. Before Talitha could offset the unexpected response, or assess her own perplexed state of mind, the remaining Thundercats burst through the doors.

Ignoring the din their shouted questions made, Talitha maintained a healer's composure, and calmly rose to greet them. Once on her feet, she detect a wetness beneath her gown. How very odd, she wondered as she became increasing lightheaded. She stumbled forward into Panthro's arms. A sharp intake of breath from the stern warrior forced her to look down. She discovered the source of his displeasure, and marked the drops of blood that had collected where she had stood. "Goddess, my bleeding," she mumbled in dismay. If the panther had heard her admission, he gave no sign. As he lifted her into his arms, she quietly fainted.

*****

Tygra watched the east from his chamber. Spindly clouds that threatened snow drifted lazily across the bleak sky. Despite the heat flowing into his room, the Thundercat drew a heavy blanket more closely about himself and the chair upon which he sat.

He wondered how he had passed completely through his grief and the death of his emotions to the state of acceptance that now possessed him. Tygra rubbed his cold, bony hands. How little he remembered of that morning when all he desired was to see the rising of the sun.

Life had become a cruel illusion. On that day, only the inevitability of the dawn had promised hope. After his maddened race to the outside, he had fallen upon the chill steps of Cats' Lair. Cheetara had found him. Had he spoken to her? Tygra shook his head. Beyond this point, his memory failed. His next recollection placed him in his own bed and viewing the night.

To his surprise, he had discovered that an intravenous line snaked into his thin arm. He had tried to focus his mind by counting the drips of the nutritional solution that fed his starved body. As his confusion cleared, he had realized with even greater shock that a catheter drained his urine. He had hoped to learn who had placed the offensive line when Cheetara came to monitor him. The only information forthcoming from the reticent female was that he had been unconscious for four suns. Before he could press his questions, he had grown sleepy. He had deduced too late that she had switched the intravenous solutions. The sedative that she had given him had sent him swiftly back into a dreamless sleep. Upon awakening once more, he had happily noted that both lines into his body had been removed. When Cheetara had brought him some broth (which he had refused), he had discovered that this time he had only slept through the night, and not another four suns.

Tygra cast off the blanket. Peace had given way to frustration. I want some answers, he decided. I've grown weary of this secrecy. The architect staggered toward his dresser. Weaker than I realized, he admitted as he fought vertigo. Hanging firmly onto one edge of the furniture, he yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a robe. He considered it an achievement that he donned the garment without falling. Wish I had something else to lean on, he thought. Guess I'll have to hug the walls for support.

He guided himself to the door, and slipped into the corridor. "A few feet at a time, Tygra. This is no race. Get to the recreation hall, then rest before continuing," he said to convince himself of the soundness of his actions. Impeded by his slow progress, he growled impatiently, "Doesn't this hallway have an end!" The control panel for his destination finally appeared. Tygra steadied himself against the wall, then punched the proper code into the unit. The portal opened with a soft hiss.

"Who's there?"

Good! Cheetara! She's the one I want to see! From his position, he was not in her line of sight. The tiger lurched forward through the open door, and snapped, "Cheetara, you'd better have some--"

He beheld the apparition before him. "By all the laws of reason!"

"Tygra," the mystic whispered.

The floor rushed up to meet the architect. For an instant, the ceiling filled his sight, then blackness.

"Jaga be blessed, Talitha, he fainted!"

Although he could not see, Tygra sensed a presence near him. Someone stroked his face. His weakened body soon became warm. His eyes fluttered open. Through the fading cloud of blue light, he looked upon the face of his mystic. Although he feared that any movement might end his wondrous dream, the Thundercat bravely touched the white hands that still cradled his face. He detected a pulse. The truth reached through his amazement. "No dream," he sobbed.

Her tear fell upon his hand. He did not know which god had returned her to him, but he refused to let sorrow taint the joy that had replaced his pain. Delighting in her reality, Tygra playfully tapped her nose. "A smile, little one, is better medicine." Biting her lip, Talitha timidly nodded in agreement.

"Don't you think, mystic, that we should move this foolish cub to a chair?"

His mystic ignored the cheetah's admonishment. Could Talitha possibly care for me as much as I do for her? Tygra wondered. Were it not for his exhaustion, and his doubt, he knew that he would gather his mystic in his arms, and hold her until the end of time.

The impatient cheetah intruded on his reflections. She said, "Honestly, Tygra, you are of no help either. Can't you cooperate."

"Peace, my friend. I intend to help you," Talitha replied.

"He should be easy to move. There is not much flesh under that hide."

With a minimum of effort, the two females helped the tiger to his feet. The room swayed as they propelled him forward, and dumped him unceremoniously onto a metal chair. Tygra winced as his too lean hips struck the hard surface.

Cheetara said with satisfaction, "Pathetic, is he not, mystic. Do you think that you can coax him to eat? He refused what I offered earlier."

For the first time in many suns, the tiger's stomach rumbled. Embarrassed, he set his hand on his shrunken abdomen, and muttered, "Ss-hh!"

Talitha's airy laughter nourished him better than any meal. Cheetara affectionately brushed his scraggly mane with her hand as she headed for the door. "I'll get this stubborn cub some food, Talitha. When he comes back down to Third Earth, why don't you tell him everything that has happened. It was his curiosity that brought him here."

Tygra stammered, "Tal-Talitha, I--I--let me just stay in your shadow, and I am content!"

"Oh, Tygra," she scolded gently, "I am no goddess to be worshiped." She moved another chair next to his. "Allow me to practice some simple medicine," she said as she seated herself. She squeezed his left hand lightly. "Until your food arrives, let us contemplate the clouds, and within their beauty, ease the burdens of our hearts."

*****

"What I am about to tell you, Tygra, Meryt recounted yesterday to everyone in the Lair but you. By magic unknown to us, she communicated directly through the Sword of Omens as we gathered in the control room."

Tygra nibbled on a piece of bread. As eager as he was to complete his knowledge of Talitha's incredible homecoming, he found it difficult to listen to her words. His full belly and the spell of her beauty hampered his concentration immensely.

"Before Mumm-Ra's fireball engulfed us, Meryt gathered all of her power. When the flames struck, her magic shielded us from harm. Immediately thereafter, she pulled me through another reality, one, apparently, of many that intersect with her pyramid. Except for the fact that I remember calling your name, I do not recall anything else of this rescue. According to Meryt, the shock of the transition tore my soul from my body, and cast it into a state of existence between realities that only those on their final journey to the silence experience.

"When she crossed back into our reality within the safety of her pyramid, she discovered what had occurred. Completely depleted of her magic, she could not retrieve my soul. Acting promptly to prevent cellular deterioration of my lifeless body, she placed it in a suspended state by marshaling the magic contained within the structure of the pyramid. With its power focused internally, it appeared to be devoid of life and power when Lion-o studied it with the sword.

"Bathed in a light that kept physical death at bay, my form rested upon a stone slab at the heart of the pyramid. In order to be restored to life without the benefit of Meryt's intervention, I...my soul...had to find its own way back to my body. Of that strange journey, Tygra, I also can recall nothing.

"As Meryt prayed for my return, her cauldron showed her your collapse. She had almost despaired of being able to help you, but suddenly, I revived. She summoned the pyramid's magic, and with little explanation of events, teleported me to Cats' Lair. This is where her account ended, Tygra. I can tell you the rest.

"Because of your physical decline, your heart simply decided to stop. Were it not for the actions of Meryt and Cheetara, in addition to my healing, you would have surely died. The healing drained me, and I fainted. When I regained consciousness, I checked on you, despite my fatigue and the concern of the others for my welfare, because I was worried that you had suffered permanent damage. Fortunately, this was not the case. I then decided to sedate you so that you could restore your strength, and be prepared to accept my return without undue shock. In this effort, Cheetara assisted me in monitoring you. I was too weakened by my ordeal and the arrival of my first bleeding from my aborted fertility to be of much further use to you as a healer. When my bleeding ended sooner than I anticipated, I felt stronger. I then gave you more healing, and let you awaken naturally."

The petite tigress hesitated. Although he had yet to absorb all that she related, Tygra noted how her speech had tired her. Her lower lip quivered as she exclaimed, "Tygra, because of me, you almost died, and Meryt remains trapped in her fortress and is powerless!"

Her distress cut through his lethargy. Having gained strength from taking nourishment, he approached her with confidence. Holding her hands, he declared, "By my power, you will never know such pain again! No one but Seti is responsible for any of this misfortune. There is no need for you to feel guilt, dear one. You have suffered as no one should."

Her eyes widened when confronted by his fervor. Tygra embraced her as if he alone could shield her from the evils of the world. "I love you, Talitha." The words came from his heart before he could stop them. "By the Goddess, forgive me, but I love you."

The mystic pulled back slightly. She said, "Is it love, Tygra, when I wish to hear your laughter over the songs of the birds; when merely sitting with you fills me with happiness; when the thought of sharing your life brings to me a warmth that defies description?"

"Yes, Talitha," he sighed before he kissed her. She tasted as pure as the rain; she gave of herself completely. Life surged into his deadened body. Not wishing to shame himself, he released her.

Unwilling to surrender the contact, she held his wrist. "While you slept, Tygra, I had plenty of time to think. Although my unique voyage has vanished from my memory, I do believe that it opened me to the love for you that I refused to acknowledge. In healing you, and caring for you these past few suns, I cleansed myself of all doubts. For each line of suffering that sculpted your body, I wept. During my vigil, I wanted nothing more than to take away every hurt that you have ever endured."

Pleased by her words, the tiger stroked her mane. To his surprise, she pulled his hand away. "Tygra, let me finish, for I fear your response to what I must say."

The architect did as she requested, although he noted that she still touched his wrist. "You have nothing to fear from me, dear one. Say what is in your heart."

"I love you, Tygra, but I am not ready to accept the gift that you have offered. When my feelings became clear to me, I desperately wanted to give you what you desired because I desired joining as well. But Tygra, our love has happened too fast. Forgive me my selfishness, but I wish to linger with the illusion of innocence. The day will come when I will join with you, but please be patient with me, for I cannot predict when I will be ready."

He clasped her hands, and replied, "Talitha, dearest one, know this: were you never to take my bed, my love for you would remain unchanged. Time will bring us even closer together, for beyond any denial, there is an inexplicable bond between us. As I have said before, dear one, as long as I have you in my life, I am content. Believe that."

"Thank you, Tygra," she whispered. "I hope to be worthy of the faith that you have placed in me, and in our love."

As he patted her hands affectionately, Tygra came to a reluctant acceptance of the situation. You have made a promise, Thundercat, he thought. Now it is time to honor it. He steered her toward the chairs. "Come Talitha. Let us set aside our worries. We have both traveled difficult roads. For now, let us return to the simple medicine that you have prescribed. We have clouds to watch, and dreams to weave."