Stars and Visions

The Lord of the Thundercats breathed deeply of the night air. A warm wind blew gently from the south. It carried to the exterior of Cats' Lair the scents of forest and plain, sweet with the newly emerging life of spring.

Soon the more fragrant blossoms of the plains will come, and provide an aromatic spice to enrich our days, Lion-o decided, happy that the harsh winter, with its barrenness and cold, had finally seemed to pass. He chuckled to himself. I'm getting to sound more like Tygra everyday. When did I become so unrelentingly serious?

The lion looked to the stars above, a great collection radiant in the clear sky. The Warrior had risen to the southeast. Two jewellike wanderers journeyed to the west. One followed the Twin Fishes, the other the Water-Carrier. The milky film of galactic light illuminated the blackness, a heavenly river that stretched from north to south. It was a night that would pervade one's memory, never to be forgotten.

The young king walked down the grand staircase to the broad courtyard below, then crossed to the edge of the river chasm. Earlier in the evening, Panthro had retracted the bridge that spanned the waterway, a natural protection from invasion. Far below, hidden in the darkness, the swift current crashed against stone. And yet the power of the River cannot keep away change, Lion-o thought. It comes. I feel it. May the gods permit us to survive.

He walked back to the steps, and sat on the lowest one. The cold in the stone seeped through his clothing, and made him shiver. He rubbed the sleeves of his tunic and the legs of his trousers to warm himself. The vernal equinox has passed, but perhaps the winter does not surrender easily, Lion-o thought.

"Let not the weather fool you, my lord. Conditions are perfect for the spread of pneumonia."

"Trust a mystic to intrude on a soft spring night and one's musings," Lion-o growled. The dim light from the partially open door behind him confirmed what his ears had relayed: the figure walking carefully down the steps towards him was Tygra.

The older Thunderan offered him one of the two cups that he held. "Some tea, my lord?" Tygra inquired innocently.

"I had foolishly believed that I had outgrown my nannies," Lion-o gibed.

"But you'll have some."

"Yes," the lion answered, knowing that despite the fact that he was king, the tiger somehow managed consistently to outrank him.

After passing him the vessel that he had held in his right hand, Tygra sat beside him. A strong scent of cinnamon came from the steam coiling up from the mug that the architect cupped with his left hand. The frigidity of the stone had not bothered his councillor, who wore tunic and trousers made of thinner cloth, for a northern ancestor had contributed to the architect's thicker fur.

Quietly sipping his tea, Tygra appeared rested and content. A benefit of spending time with Talitha, no doubt, Lion-o mused. He felt the smile creep across his face. He had not seen the pair for most of the day. However, he had heard the odd thunderous roar, suggestive of ecstatic joining, which had pierced the lazy afternoon.

"Something amuses you, my lord," Tygra asked quizzically.

"Not at all," Lion-o lied, trying not to laugh outright.

The striped Thunderan shrugged. He set his cup on the step, then scratched his jaw. "Damn ruff itches," he complained.

Lion-o ran his index finger from a point at the base of Tygra's right ear to a spot on his jaw halfway between ear and chin. The older Thunderan flinched. "Tickles," he growled.

"No doubt. Your ruff has become thicker, but it's very soft, and such a bright white."

Tygra snorted. "Only my great respect of tradition prevents me from cutting it off. I am too young to have a ruff, and one so well developed at that."

"But you're wise beyond your seasons," Lion-o remarked sincerely. It was the trials that you faced, and your suffering that have aged you, he thought, as well as your service to me.

Tygra narrowed his dark amber eyes, and possessed the look of someone who was unsure of whether he had just received an insult or a compliment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose out of habit. "I could do without the spectacles too," he said with mild annoyance. "They can give me a headache. However, they have become standard equipment for my night watches. I can't easily read the indicators on the control panel without them." The architect sighed. "By all the gods, I wish that I could gain control over my gift for aura sight. It flares up once in a-a-"

"Blue moon?"

"Yes, as the Berbils say, and at the most inopportune times!"

"Like today?"

"Yes," the tiger admitted with reluctance, "When Talitha and I...." His words faded without completion, leaving no doubt regarding his embarrassment about the intimacy he had almost revealed. "The gift has taken the acuity of my eyesight. At least it could be at my command," he snapped.

Lion-o placed his left hand gently upon the tiger's shoulder. "In time you and Talitha will find the key to manipulating this talent. After all, who would have believed that you would have become a mystic?"

"Certainly not me," Tygra answered with a chuckle.

Lion-o laughed in return, satisfied that he had restored his friend to a peaceful state. He drained his cup, then set it down.

The serene interlude proved to be brief. Without warning, the architect sprang to his feet. His cup clattered on the stone and broke, spilling its warm contents. "Who goes there!" Tygra shouted. Although not possessing his bolo-whip, the tiger assumed a fighting stance, his claws ready to rend an enemy.

"By the gods, Tygra, what in the seven hells--" The young king grew silent. He watched in fascination the white ball of mist that crossed the chasm and settled in the courtyard.

"Inside, my king, quickly!" Tygra hissed. "Fetch your sword!"

Lion-o stood, but moved no further. "Do not fear," he said to the architect, not knowing why the strange cloud posed no threat. With a curse, the architect placed himself between king and cloud.

The mist began to sparkle silver, and a darkly cloaked and robed figure emerged. "Lion-o," the being whispered, his form wavering as if the light breezes disturbed it. "The River will no longer wait."

"By the gods, Jaga!" Tygra gasped.

Only Lion-o had been privileged in the past to converse with the deceased mage, who had led them to Third Earth. In all that time the youth had never comprehended the power necessary to make his unique communication with the dead possible. "You can see him too," he asked Tygra with incredulity.

The dismayed architect nodded.

The apparition threw back his hood, giving strength to the illusion of his solidity. His long white mane fluttered. "Our last meeting in this life brothers," he said sadly.

The sorcerer was dramatically older than he had recalled, a wizened shade of his former self, pale of color and frail. The king suddenly grew angry, despite the mage's shocking appearance. The words spilt from his lips like the waters of a great flood. "It has been a long time since we last spoke, Jaga. We have endured much suffering. We have not had the comfort of your counsel in times of trial. Why did you desert us!"

"To forge the finest blade, you must come close to breaking it," the ghost said softly, and pointed at the architect.

Tygra dropped to his knees, the weight of understanding forcing him down.

Lion-o knelt beside his councillor. He placed his hands lightly on the tiger's shoulders in comfort. Shaking his head slowly from side to side, he said, "So much pain. Was it worth it, Jaga?"

"Facing difficulty was your first lesson in learning how to rule, Lion-o. You discovered that success required objectivity and cooperation.

"Tygra is the blade of wisdom that protects the crown."

"Blade of wisdom indeed! Everyone in this Lair has wounds," Tygra answered hotly. "Some of them I have caused directly. What benefit have they received? What grand title?"

"As you age, you will discover the answer to that question."

"More mysteries," the architect growled in derision, gently pushing Lion-o away, and rising to his feet. "You deliberately kept my past from me!"

The ghost did not protest. He smiled, which maddened the tiger even more. The architect stiffened; his hands bunched into fists. Lion-o wondered if he would explode with fury.

"I have waited in the place between worlds observing all," Jaga continued calmly. "With each advancement you and Lion-o made, I became diminished and unnecessary. It is now time for me to cross the River to the Silence, so that I may push forward the workings of the universe. I have only come back to give you a glimpse into the future. A small reward."

"Let us gratefully take what is offered," Lion-o said quickly to Tygra, fearful of the noble's reaction to the mage's icy logic.

The architect snarled, but did not voice an objection.

Jaga nodded in approval. "Lion-o, expect great changes soon. You will discover if you are truly the king your father was. As for you, Tygra, you will observe that the past still affects your present."

"The reward is small indeed, Jaga!" Tygra complained.

The corners of the mage's mouth turned down slightly in annoyance. "You are your father's son, Tygra, as willful and as stubborn as he!"

"And as strong in commitment!" Lion-o interjected fiercely.

Jaga chuckled, and began to fade, "Indeed, my young king."

"Don't go yet! I have so much to ask!" the lion cried.

As he disappeared, the mage's final words echoed on the wind, "In the least likely individual resides tremendous power tempered with great sorrow. Make a place for him by your side."

"To whom do you cry out, Lion-o." The rumbling bass voice belonged to Panthro who, dressed only in a tunic, raced down the steps. He made a threatening gesture with his nunchaku. "Where is the strange mist of which Talitha spoke?"

"I am sorry Panthro. The night plays tricks with our eyes," Lion-o replied, giving a side-long glance to the architect, which implored that he not elaborate on their strange experience.

The panther standing akimbo growled, "I was called from my bed for nothing!"

"One can never take chances," Chand'ra demurred as she approached the group. The snow leopard, garbed like the panther, tapped the blade of a short knife gently against her palm. "It is better to put the Lair on alert than to be surprised. Mumm-Ra might choose to appear as a harmless fog."

An uneasy, suspicious silence gathered over them. An airy voice, which rang with the clear tones of a bell, finally dispersed the foul humor. "When you signaled me telepathically, Tygra, the monitor went blank, and most of the instruments froze," Talitha reported. The mystic's words came mingled with little gasps, a product of her sprint from the control room. Her blue gown brushed the stones with faint strokes as she descended the steps. "Fortunately, internal communications still worked, so I did not have to rely on my mind gift. I did my best to relate your message to Panthro, and he to the others, but you were not very specific." Halting, she quickly surveyed the grounds. "The instruments have just reactivated." She added with a defensive glance toward her mate and Panthro, "I left Bengal'i to oversee them because the readings indicated no danger."

Tygra raised a disapproving eyebrow, but agreed, "There was no danger. It is as Lion-o has said, a spring illusion, and no more."

Chand'ra spotted the broken pieces of Tygra's cup, and retrieved them. "An odd ball of moisture rising from the chasm, no doubt," she remarked, her skepticism barely veiled.

"I am sorry, but there is truly nothing to see. I suggest we all go inside," Lion-o commented.

"Is that an order, my king?" Panthro inquired with irritation.

"Yes." He hoped his firmness would end the matter swiftly, for his mind ached with the possibilities that Jaga had suggested.

"So be it!" Tygra assented.

"Ball of mist!" Panthro mumbled, turning with reluctance, then heading back up the steps. "Glad I told the others to wait inside."

The snow leopard's whisper carried easily on the night air as she followed him. "Let's worry about other magics, grey one," she said, whacking the warrior lightly on the buttocks with the flat of her blade.

"Of all the insolent!" Before the panther could finish, Chand'ra had darted past him and had disappeared into the Lair.

"Excellent notion," Talitha purred. She ran her fingers over Tygra's chest. "I want to be the only source of surprises this evening." Her mate responded only with a throaty growl fraught with desire. "Too bad I have the evening watch."

Tygra's lips curled into a pout. "Too bad indeed," he murmured.

The tiger couple turned and followed the panther up the staircase. Poor Tygra has already lost this battle, Lion-o decided. Under Talitha's care, he will eventually reveal what has transpired here. But she is a mystic, and knows how to keep a confidence.

The youth gazed at the spot where Jaga had given his final appearance. He tried to classify the many emotions that flowed over him, and decided that the most prominent one was relief.

Lion-o made a gesture of farewell. We are truly on our own now. And that, old Jaga, is good.