Mystic Crossing

Tir'shan wanted to vomit. The Felinari'i slumped, the protective belt crossing his broad chest preventing him from falling out of his chair. An atdira'savi sat next to him in the cramped cabin of the spaceship. Tir'shan studied his friend by the light of the instruments. Although the alien was sexless, he preferred to consider him male. Eri'mintálí moved his long neck. His triangular head suddenly loomed before him. His black eyes blinked briefly with concern. The giant creature snorted in satisfaction. The two delicate knobs of flesh that rose from his head gently brushed the chamber's ceiling as he turned his attention back to the starcraft's controls.

The atdira'savi had carefully explained to him the effect an instantaneous crossing through hyperspace would have on his body. Description, however, had paled against reality. Mystic pride had helped him from immediately succumbing to his gut-wrenching queasiness, but it was not sufficient. The tall mystic searched frantically for something upon which to focus his mind and divert his ills. His gaze locked on the view-screen.

The palette of life provided color to the world above which they floated. Brown-green mingled with blue-white to create a pleasing orb. It welcomed the visitors from cold, vacuous space with warm beauty, unlike the frozen moon which circled it, an airless, uninviting companion. Tir'shan reached for the soothing image. The resonance of his ancestors hummed in recognition. "Home," the mystic whispered, uncertain of how he knew that he had spoken the truth. Perhaps it was the presence of a moon. Thundera had not possessed one, but legendary Homeworld had.

*A possibility,* his friend answered with his mind, having judged his expression, and guessed his thoughts. His six-fingered hands punched more long strings of information into the control panel. A display activated with a weak bleep. *Ah, the coordinates,* Eri'mintálí commented.

"Is our destination in view?" the mystic asked with growing excitement, the odd squiggles meaning nothing to him.

*The other side of the world, but it matters not, for soon we will land. I have begun the sequence.*

The starcraft no longer drifted. The world approached. Tir'shan tightened his grip on the armrests, the unfamiliar making his heart race.

The atdira'savi said with amusement, *The descent will not be rough, I promise.*

*****

The mystic wandered along the hot, sandy shore. The cloth pack strapped to his back added weight to his growing uneasiness. The ocean, a scintillant band of grey-green, stretched endlessly to the horizon. The sky was a vast blue vault that matched the color of his eyes. The intense rays of the sun made the skin beneath his fur prickle. The humidity and the salt spray dotted his brown tunic and trousers with beads of moisture and sweat. His feet swelled within his boots. A song that he could not hear, but felt, pervaded his mind.

*What troubles you, mystic,* the atdira'savi asked. Eri'mintálí had followed him, unperturbed by the elements, his nakedness or his worsening posture. A simple wooden staff, a necessity he had insisted that his friend carry on their journey, helped ease the stooped creature's passage across the shifting sands. *Why have you come down to the sea?*

"I do not know, and I feel that I should," Tir'shan answered. He halted, and faced the atdira'savi. He squinted. Was it his imagination, or had his friend's once vivid pelt faded to a sickly mix of yellow splotched with brown?

The creature, who was twice his height, blew air through his long nostrils in a familiar gesture of annoyance. *I will wait by the starcraft. Come back when you are ready to continue our journey. It should take two to three of this world's days to reach your people's colony. More, if you squander time.* The mystic merely nodded his assent, which was sufficient for the atdira'savi, who ambled back toward the rocks, the rise and the path that they had traveled.

Tir'shan dug his foot into the sand and traced a symbol for the past. "This is Homeworld," he muttered. "May the gods grant me a sign that I am right."

*****

The day's journey had proved to be pleasant. The sun had traversed the sky faster than on the atdira'savi's homeworld. The weather had stayed mild, hearty breezes counteracting the rising heat; however, surprising cold had come with the night. Although his thick fur kept him warm, Tir'shan sidled closer to the campfire, and continued to ponder their first day upon Third Earth.

Eri'mintálí had chosen his landing site and hiding place well. He had left the starcraft by the sea on strip of high, flat ground protected from the tides. The atdira'savi had set crystals around the base of the craft, then had cried out. The bellows, replete with melodious overtones, had caused the gems to radiate. When his friend had finished his work, the starcraft and the crystals had disappeared. Tir'shan had wondered if they still occupied the site unseen or whether they had vanished to another place. Eri'mintálí had not offered an explanation, and because of the weariness that his friend had displayed in his posture, he had decided not to ask. The creature had also not offered an explanation as to why they had arrived so far from the Thunderan colony. Tir'shan had considered the possibility that he had thoughtfully wanted to give him time to prepare for the encounter with his people. A sense of doubt reinforced his belief that his friend had omitted the truth.

They had traversed forest and grassland. Thin streams of water irrigated the land, vital veins of life that enriched the dark soil. He had watched the shapes in the sky, aerial creatures not unlike those that had flown on Thundera. One avian, whose plumage was striking in its contrast, had descended from the heavens like a lightning bolt. When it had risen from the long yellow grass, it had clutched in its talons a small furred animal with long ears. It comforted him to know that the limp, white victim had died swiftly. The predator had possessed admirable skill. I wonder how it tasted? Tir'shan thought as he listened to the unhappy rumbling in his gut. The provisions of sweet bread that they had stored in his pack had nourished them, but had certainly not satisfied.

Tir'shan glanced at his friend. At the rim of the firelight, the giant leaned against a tree, quiet and immobile, his dark eyes two slits. Sleep well, Tir'shan prayed, his concern for the atdira'savi's health growing. The knobs on the creature's head had heralded a transformation that would soon come. When it would occur remained a mystery. However, once begun, it could not be stopped. The giant would metamorphose into a water serpent with the power to alter reality.

The mystic sprawled on a blanket. The languid orange flames of the campfire, slowly twisting tongues of light, threatened to lull him into sleep with their sinuous movement. "Wouldn't do for the one who has the watch to nap," Tir'shan scolded himself. "I shall remain vigilant." He yawned, a comical counterpoint to his determined declaration. "I shall look to the sky."

The branches of the trees surrounding the clearing in the woods partially obscured the moon. It had begun its descent to the west. The pallid sphere was too fat to be a crescent, and yet to thin to be half full. The stars overhead shone brightly.

The hiss and crackle of the burning wood wooed him back to the fire. He surrendered to its pleas. The soft illumination pulled him inside the flames. Chants caressed his mind with ancient rhythms. Red tiger warriors, tall and strong, danced with ferocity before him. Their tails, cleft lips, and unique markings indicated that they were sinda'am'ral'im, one of the many different offspring of the am'ral'im, the first-born. The naked leader leaped and growled. He shook his bone rattles at both the dancers and the spectators at the edge of the light.

My heart and hopes are with you, my red brother, Tir'shan found himself thinking wistfully as he watched the battle dance, unafraid of the strangeness of the spectacle before him. My warriorship follows a different path. I am a healer. I come when the fighting ends.

A bird squawked. Tir'shan bolted upright. *Have you rested well?* Eri'mintálí asked, his thoughts bubbling with laughter. The creature tugged the end of the mystic's long braided mane. *The sun has risen. We must go.*

Tir'shan's face burned with embarrassment as he realized that he had fallen asleep during his watch. He noted with vexation that he was woefully unconditioned for the sizable trek that they had undertaken. He considered the obese panther who had brought this adventure to him, and prayed that he would never choose to become as soft as Ba'sir. When I return home, I will exercise with the palace guards, he promised himself.

Tir'shan rubbed the brown fur of his crown, disarraying the dark stripes that streaked through it. I cannot undo what has been done, he decided in resignation. He made a small prayer of thanks to Savar for protecting them during the night. He stood and stretched. His mouth was dry, and his body and clothes, dusty. He folded his arms, and squared his shoulders. "I will not go anywhere until I have bathed and eaten, Eri."

*That is your choice,* the atdira'savi replied. He took his staff and began to walk toward the east.

"The names of fifty thousand gods," Tir'shan muttered, grabbing his blanket and pack, and reluctantly following the crooked figure into the sun.

*****

The mystic wiped the film of milky sweat from his brow. His clothing was soaked with perspiration, his thick fur making him miserable. The previous day had been hot, but had not been uncomfortable. Although the sun now dipped toward the west, the heat had intensified. Yesterday they had roamed over varied terrain. Today they had wandered in a south-easterly direction only across the plain. It had made the traveling difficult, for there was no cover. That his companion appeared unaffected by the weather increased the mystic's irritability.

Heat roiled in the distance, making the grass waver. A cluster of dark shapes caught the mystic's attention. "Trees!" he exclaimed. A flicker of blue-white made him add, "And there is some water."

*A fine place to camp,* the atdira'savi agreed nonchalantly.

It had taken longer to reach the unexpected haven than Tir'shan had anticipated. The horizon threatened to swallow the setting sun, a fireball that promised even more sweltering heat for the next day. The mystic scanned the site looking for a suitable place to build a fire to stave off the incongruous cold that came with the night.

*Interesting.*

The subtle touch of Eri'mintálí's mind caused the mystic to take note of his friend's judgement, but not to inquire. Fire-building and the prospect of bathing in the grove's deep pool bound the white tiger's thoughts.

When he had finished constructing the frame for the fire, Tir'shan said to his friend, "What is interesting?" A light breeze had drained some of the intensity of the heat. Not receiving an answer, the mystic looked around the grove. Eri'mintálí had vanished.

Tir'shan moved beyond the cluster of trees that circled the pool. With a clear view available, he spotted his friend standing quietly amidst the long blades of grass. The atdira'savi had inclined his head, listening carefully with his small ear holes, trying to catch the slightest sound.

The mystic poised silently, but heard nothing. Because of his height, Eri'mintálí could see far, but his color vision was not as keen as Felinari's. Five tawny shapes that the yellow grass camouflaged slunk toward the atdira'savi. "Am'ral'im!" the mystic gasped, shocked by the sudden appearance of the four-legged felines known only from legend.

"Eri, beware!" Tir'shan shouted, while simultaneously, the felines launched themselves from the sheltering grass at the atdira'savi. The mystic's cry and movement, however, caused the pride to shift direction from the alien, who had his staff raised in defense. In an instant, Tir'shan found himself on the ground, the breath knocked from his body. Two of the five fierce shapes kept him pinned with their great strength and weight. Pain coursed down his right arm as one of the am'ral'im sank it's teeth into his shoulder. With only instinct and the desire to survive driving him, he freed his left fist, and smashed it into the face of the second creature who tried to tear his neck. The satisfied growls of the other members of the pride heralded their approach.

The earth suddenly trembled with a deep sound powerful enough to split trees and crack mountains. The attacking felines leapt off the mystic in fear, their claws digging into his flesh as they scattered. In seconds the grass had swallowed the pride.

Tir'shan rolled onto his side, and watched, dazed, as his blood darkened the grass. He pawed weakly at his soaked and rent clothing searching for a healing point, realizing that if he did not act soon, he would bleed to death from the wound in his shoulder. His mind filled with Eri'mintálí's distracting telepathic sendings, but he could not understand them. His friend dwindled, devoured by the growing night. "Mrísena," Tir'shan murmured before surrendering to the darkness.

*****

Light returned, the faint glow of a small fire. A figure sat beside the mystic, yet it appeared to him to be too short for the atdira'savi. The voice that addressed him carried the lilt of a Thunderan accent. Tir'shan realized that it was the war chief he had seen in his dreams. His thoughts pulsed with the paradox before him, a puzzle his dazed mind could not solve.

The sinda'am'ral'im tossed another branch onto the fire. "Tir'zer'in, when will you learn that it is the work of a healer to stay out of combat," he chided with a gentleness suffused with familiarity. The warrior placed his hand lightly upon the mystic's brow. "Min'k'tin, I shall become very angry with you if you manage to die before your time. I will take actions to make certain that your spirit does not rest." The warrior's amber eyes darkened with concern. "You did well, and saved Trin'dir, but the rescue almost cost you your life. Surely, the Goddess would not be pleased if you arrived too early in the Silver City."

Tir'shan reached for the red tiger. The warrior's face, orange and cream, melted; his mane blurred into a tapestry of color framed by his black stripes. "I am sorry, Ty'gra, but I had no choice," he heard himself whisper, wondering how he knew the war chief's name.

*There is always a choice,* came the delicate rebuke to his mind.

Tir'shan blinked away the colors blurring his sight. The sinda'am'ral'im had transformed into an atdira'savi partially hidden by shadow. "This world has too many mysteries, Eri," he complained, surprised at the weakness in his voice, and aware of the dull pain in his shoulder. Tir'shan sat up, and fell over. He rested his head against the atdira'savi who caught and cradled him.

*That was unwise.*

"I am generally unwise."

*I used the aquenil stones that I had stored in your pack to heal the worst of your injuries. You must finish the task; you have lost much blood.* The creature forced him down, and he did not resist. *It is better for you to do this in the morning. Sleep, Tir'shan.*

"Something I cannot do on command, Eri."

*No. That is why I shall help you.*

The atdira'savi moved his long neck. A shock coursed through the Felinari'i. He noted the dramatic change in his friend that the shadows had hidden. The two stubby knobs of flesh that sprouted from the atdira'savi's head had elongated. "The change comes upon you too quickly," the mystic cried out in alarm.

*There is nothing you can do but rest,* Eri'mintálí replied, his face now close to his own. The atdira'savi began to hum. The resonant tones reverberated through the mystic. Tir'shan could not fight the alien music that guided him to sleep. "I am sorry," he whispered, returning to the darkness.

*****

The mystic splashed water from the pool on his face. A chill breeze blew; rain would come to the plain before the morning had ended. Tir'shan gingerly touched his shoulder. No mark remained of the great wound, or the lesser ones, he had endured. Whatever spell Eri'mintálí had place upon him during the night had helped him to rest. Upon awakening, he had felt refreshed, and had swiftly undertaken the matter of his own healing. He thanked the gods that he had taken extra clothing with him to don, for his old garments, torn and bloodied, were no longer of any use, but to be added to a fire at the earliest time.

He was ready for more traveling despite the blood loss that his body only slowly replaced. Tir'shan glanced at his friend, who sat quietly upon a stone. There was no doubt that the final change had begun in the atdira'savi, for the oasis bore testament to his transformation in the tufts of yellow-brown fur that had fallen from Eri'mintálí's body, leaving patches of pale skin in their wake.

"How soon?" Tir'shan asked.

*Day's end,* the atdira'savi answered, a mournful quality shading his thoughts.

"We will reach the new colony before then. We will get help."

*No.*

The negative reply bit the mystic, poisoning him with fear. "You will die."

*I will only change.*

"Do not bandy metaphysics with me," Tir'shan answered hotly.

*You leap to conclusions,* Eri'mintálí replied calmly. *At day's end, you will understand.*

"As will the others?"

The giant creature rose. He leaned upon his staff, his entire body tense with pain. *No. Only you, my friend.*

"Eri--" Tir'shan began to protest.

*Let us waste no more time. We head to the east and north...away from the colony...to the mountains, not the hills. You can see them in the distance. Day's end.*

*****

The sun touched the western horizon, and began to set, but their journey had not yet ended. The mystic sighed with both fatigue and sadness, and pondered the final challenge he and Eri'mintálí had undertaken. They had reached the mountains at midday. That had been the easiest part of their travels, for the plain had remained cool and wet with light rain. The fierce am'ral'im had not troubled them further. Indeed, the only signs of life they had seen were the beautiful winged creatures that occasionally dropped from the sky for a kill amongst the long grass.

The difficulties started at the base of the wall of barren mountains that loomed before them, sharp peaks that rose steeply from the plain with no gentle, grassy slopes to precede them. He had wondered then how they would scale the natural barrier, confused about what the atdira'savi had hoped to find.

He glanced to his right at the weakening, quiet friend he helped moved forward. You always seem to know the road, he thought, adjusting his grip around the alien's waist, and shifting his shoulder slightly, so that Eri'mintálí's arm did not rest so heavily upon him. You saw what I could not.

They inched slowly up stone steps that someone had carved. The twisting path skyward had risen from a curve in the mountains not visible from the plain. The atdira'savi had slipped into silence, not voicing what he had hoped to find at the end of the trail. Despite his curiosity, the mystic respected his friend's secrecy, for he trusted that all would finally be shown to him.

The darkness deepened as twilight advanced into night. Tir'shan raised the small glowing sphere in his left hand. The weak light could only reveal the stones a few feet ahead, despite the help of the moon. The narrow rock walls that framed the path formed a corridor that made him feel trapped.

*Not much longer,* Eri'mintálí suddenly said.

"That is well, for I am--" The mystic grew silent. The steps went no further. The walls pushed back. They had reached a platform of rock the dimensions of which the little light could not completely delimit.

*Continue forward. There is not much time remaining to me.*

Tir'shan obeyed without question. In a few minutes, the glowing sphere revealed a stone pool. The edge bore carved letters that seemed vaguely familiar, cursive shapes that held many secrets. Eri'mintálí gestured toward the pool, and they proceeded forward. Just short of the structure, the atdira'savi commanded, *Release me. I must go on alone.*

"Into the water?" Tir'shan asked with hesitation, afraid that he would be correct in his guess as he freed his friend, who stood on uncertain legs.

*Yes. I must complete what has begun. You must follow your own road.*

The questions poured from the mystic like water from a fall. "And how I am I to do that? You haven't told me where the Thunderan colony actually is. How am I supposed to get back to your world? I do not know how to operate your ship? And what of your brethren? How will they consider this mutiny? Names of ten thousand gods! How can I be sure that you will survive this transition? You have broken the patterns set on your world!"

The great creature offered no argument. He began to sing. The resonant tones bounced off the rock walls. He made a web of sound that wrapped itself around the mystic and bound him tight. "I was your friend!" Tir'shan cried out. "How can you betray me like this?"

*All things must follow their rightful course. Fear not. Go to your people,* the atdira'savi replied. He quieted and slipped into the pool, dropping his worn staff on the earth.

"Eri!" The atdira'savi disappeared under the water. The dark surface of the pool quickly stilled without fanfare. "Eri," Tir'shan whispered, the tears trickling down his cheeks.

The sound spell dispersed. The mystic ran to the pool. He raised his light, but could see nothing beyond the first few feet of stone and water. The atdira'savi had vanished down a well that had no discernable bottom.

Tir'shan sat on the wide lip of stone, the exhaustion created by his travels finally extracting its cost. Unreality permeated him, yet a practical corner of his mind made itself known. I can do no more, he decided with a final judgement that encompassed everything that he felt and experienced. The day is at an end. Good journey, Eri, wherever you have gone.

The mystic removed his pack, noting how stiff his neck and back muscles had become. At least the ground is dry, he thought with bitter amusement, assessing his current circumstance. The cooling night air made him shiver slightly. Just wish I had some wood for a nice fire.

He rose, his legs aching in protest. With the light he searched for a sheltered nook amongst the stone walls, and soon found one. He settled against the stone, the blanket wrapped around his body. Tir'shan vanished behind the rock.

*****

Sunlight illuminated the mystic's boots. Tir'shan freed himself of his blanket. He left the nook that had protected him, and walked back to the pool. The water was clear and still. He looked, and followed the line of stone until he could not discern the sides. Without plunging into the water himself, he had no way to judge the depth. He wondered if Eri'mintálí had changed into an asira'savi in the place hidden from his sight, or had simply died. He considered waiting by the pool, but decided against it, remembering his friend's words. He sat on the stone, gazed skyward and froze in place. High on the mountain wall were carvings. "All the gods bless me," Tir'shan gasped in astonishment.

The figures were beings like the warrior in his dreams, but all female. They carried the symbols of goddesses that he knew. Beside each were strings of the cursive letters that he finally recognized to be the script of lost Homeworld.

Tir'shan turned from east to south to west, and finally, the north, and named each goddess. "Mintálí, Miritana, Mrísena, Ni'tara. Music, mystery, healing and fate." The wind whistled through the rocks as if confirming his words, and the mystic shivered. An uncomfortable feeling had settled in his gut. "This is a female place of power, and I do not belong here."

But you serve me, the wind remarked, and so, are allowed.

"Mrísena!" Tir'shan exclaimed, dropping to his knees, his head bent in respect to an invisible presence.

He waited, but the wind said no more, so he dared to lift his eyes. He traced every curve and cut of the image of the goddess that he worshiped. Her serene features, although ancient and alien, gave him comfort. "Help Eri," he prayed. "Show me the right road." A cloud dimmed the sunlight. Whether it was a sign or not, the mystic could not tell. "There is no more that I can do," he finally admitted. "Mrísena will protect and guide me."

Tir'shan gathered his belongings. He retrieved his friend's staff, and began his descent down the long stone staircase, hoping to outrace the melancholy he knew would return.

*****

The heat had returned to the plain. Tir'shan prayed that the day would pass quickly. He had come down from the mountain path with ease. At its base, he had noted the strange boulders, that vaguely reminded him of am'ral'im. He marked a spot near where the staircase ended with a circle of stones. When he had finished, he followed the line of sharp peaks, guided by the original direction he and Eri'mintálí had pursued. The mountains had softened to hills. Once he had reached true east, he hoped his road would become clear.

The sun reached a point directly overhead, and he became concerned about finding water. A little cluster of trees appeared around the next turn in the land. "Perhaps," the mystic mumbled to himself.

Tir'shan shouted with joy when he discovered that the land had favored him. A tiny spring greeted him, and offered icy refreshment. He drank his fill, then sat upon the grass, leaning against a tree to rest. He felt the pull of sleep, and tried to fight it. His eyes weakened and closed. He drifted. The singing of the breeze and the gentle gurgles of the water touched the edge of his consciousness, as part of his mind chided him for not continuing his journey. The comforting noises lulled him further. He felt himself dissolve. A series of hums, buzzes and clicks made him snap awake. "What in holy Mrísena's hands!" Tir'shan exclaimed in surprise.

A being no taller than a snarf stood before him. The creature had a rounded form, from head to body to limbs to digits. Its skin glistened because it was made of a silvery metal. What appeared to be brown fur incongruously adorned its neck, wrists and little, crescent-shaped ears atop its head. The being possessed a slit mouth accompanied by more thin slits cutting its metal cheeks. An odd caste mark? Tir'shan wondered, continuing his assessment. On its smooth, expressionless face, its dark eyes, a pair of glass beads, regarded him with curiosity . Tir'shan scratched his head and wondered whether its red nose was a beacon or an alarm, for the little alien was obviously a construct, who might conceivably serve someone.

Words framed by electronic noise erupted from the rotund figure. Tir'shan shrugged. "I am sorry, but I don't understand," he said, suddenly feeling very stupid about his reply.

"Ooohhh. Is this...better?"

The mystic's jaw dropped open in shock. "You speak my language!"

"Yyyeeesss. Just like...the Thundercats," it remarked, its words spoken with a clipped cadence.

Tir'shan explored the odd wording with his tongue. "Thun-der-cats?"

"Yyyeeesss. Li'on'o. Pan'thro--"

"Stop. No need to name them all." Recalling the testimony of Ba'sir, and the heaviness it had lain upon his heart, the mystic decided that names could wait until a formal introduction to those in the colony.

"Ooohhh."

The little being waited quietly, obviously no threat. "Can you take me to them, ah...I don't know your name," the mystic asked politely.

"Yyyeeesss," it drawled compliantly. "Their home...is not far...from here. I am ROBEAR-BOB, number 598 in my series."

Does that mean that there are 597 more of you? Tir'shan wondered. Do you all serve the Thun-der-cats? He shook his head in amazement. I guess I will find out soon. He stood, then bowed. "Please," he asked respectfully, "can we proceed?"

"Ooohhh, taaall," it chimed amazed at his formidable height of seven and a half feet. "Follow me."

It moved smoothly away, burbling and chirping with electronic glee.

Tir'shan's heart lightened. Perhaps the road can be found. Maybe these Thun-der-cats will have the answers I need to all the questions Eri bequeathed to me, he thought hopefully as he marched with his new friend to the east.