The Fortress of the Heart

Blue eyes. Green eyes. Those of amber and those of gold. Too many colors and too many faces. The Felinari'i tried to recall the names of the people gathered around him. The more he concentrated, the more difficulty he had in remembering which name matched which person. Under their stares he felt like a creature caught and studied by inquisitive cubs. Which one will poke me first to see if I jump, Tir'shan thought, glumly.

They had convened in a chamber, which had tall windows that faced south. The appointments of the room were few and stark. A large round table ringed by chairs commanded the center of the space. The formality of the setting was unsettling.

"Your tea. It's a Berbil blend sure to please, snarf, snarf."

"Thank you," Tir'shan said to the elderly Snarfri'i that had served him the beverage.

"I can't bear anymore suspense," one of the adolescent Thunderans complained. The Felinaria brushed back a wayward lock of bright red hair striped with black, which clashed wildly with her green tunic. "Tir'shan, tell us your story!" the small cat implored.

"He might prefer that we tell ours first, Kitra," her twin brother scolded. Katren shrugged his scrawny shoulders, which seemed lost in the baggy blue cloth that comprised his robe. "Anyway, it is for Lion-o to decide."

The Lord of Thundera ran his finger around the rim of his cup. He said solemnly, "The details of our respective arrivals are the least of my concerns. I wish to know but one thing: have you journeyed to our world alone?"

The mystic favored a full accounting of the truth, for he would need the help of those in the Lair if the Felinari were ever to be reunited. However, he preferred to present the situation in the simplest way first, holding elaboration for another time. Tir'shan steadied himself for the explanation. "My king, I traveled by spacecraft to this world with one not of our kind. His people gave ours refuge."

"Just how many does 'our people' represent?" Panthro interrupted with the question that pervaded everyone's thoughts.

Tir'shan shrugged slightly. "Given the beginning numbers, the fertility of our kind, and also counting the surviving Snarfri, approximately 30,000 individuals."

The mystic received shocked silence from the group, until the twins exclaimed in unison, "How did you survive!"

Tir'shan looked to Lion-o for guidance, but the king stared silently into his teacup. Not wanting to delay, the mystic continued, "On Thundera's last day, our ark ship, like the rest of our fleet, was doomed because we had no weapons to fight the Mutants. In an act of defiance, our engineer Ta'hir broke the crystals of the ship's light drive in the hope that the resultant explosion would destroy many enemy vessels."

"But he got more than he had anticipated," Panthro interjected. "From what I know of light drives, I would venture to guess that he inadvertently distorted time and space. He proved Tanthri's theories."

"Precisely. We crossed a great distance and two seasons of time in an instant."

"It would seem impossible for any vessel to survive," Tygra added with suspicion.

"True," Tir'shan countered. "As it happened, we were caught in a space-time trap. Our thoughts ended with Ta'hir's move. Only our proximity to a world where powerful beings dwelt enabled us to return to the time stream. Without their help, we would have been truly lost."

"Incredible!" said the lynx who moved confidently into the room. It took a moment for the mystic to realize that the middle-aged male was blind. Dark stripes neatly framed his pale yellow, clouded eyes. Without error, he crossed over to Pum'y'ra, and whispered into her ear. The adolescent, who was older than the twins, nodded, stood, then left the room as swiftly as the lynx had arrived.

Despite his blindness, the elder had marked his confusion. He announced brightly, "I am Lynx-o. There are two more of our household you have not yet met. Bengal'i is working at Bentrin's forge. He is not due back for several suns. He is of your race, but not yet awakened. Cheetara rests in her quarters. Pum'y'ra will watch over her for awhile."

The mystic had heard the white tiger's name earlier in the day, but he had dismissed him from his thoughts. Talitha alone had occupied his mind. The recounting of his journey suddenly ebbed in importance when confronted with sickness and injury. His sister mystic had not the power to cure blindness, and his chances were also slim. The elder would have to wait for the power of a mystic circle for a possible cure. The cheetah was another matter. Tir'shan inquired of Talitha, "Is she ill?"

Talitha frowned, and remained silent. "Only very pregnant, snarf, snarf," the little elder answered for her with a chuckle, his red tail twitching.

The snow leopard female with eyes of green-grey set in an unfittingly plain face leaned back on her metal chair. The hem of her long brown robe draped pleasingly over her slippered feet. Chand'ra pointed to Panthro then Tygra with the tip of the dagger she casually held in her hand, and spoke. "One of these fine lords, or perhaps both, has sired Cheetara's twins. The gift is not an easy burden for one of her race to bear."

The tiger growled in annoyance. Talitha sighed like a warrior cursed to carry a heavy pack. The panther stabbed his friend's shoulder with his finger as if trying to teach the spotted female manners.

Demons and gods! Tir'shan suddenly thought. Has Tygra taken all the adult females to bed! Then Talitha-- He slammed down the intrusive thought, and summoned the privilege of his office for relief from truths he did not wish to face. "May I see Cheetara?" Tir'shan asked, no longer concerned with his story in trying to shield his heart.

Lion-o stirred from his dreams. A smile began at the corners of his lips, then grew into a wide grin. "You have given us great and joyous news, mystic. It will take some time to adjust to the wonderment of the situation. I give you leave to go. This discussion we can finish later. You must also tell us more about the friend who has traveled with you to this world. I assume he has stayed with his ship." He turned to the snarf, and commanded, "Take Tir'shan to Cheetara, and then, to his quarters." Addressing the panther, he added, "Take the mystic's possessions to his room, and see that it is properly furnished."

The mystic added nothing to Lion-o's conjectures. At least he is correct about one point: I will eventually tell him about Eri. He obediently followed the servant from the room, but as he did so, he watched the tiger, whose dark amber eyes seethed with fury.

*****

"Cheetara sleeps so much, snarf, snarf," the servant commented, breaking the silence that he had kept on their short walk to her room. He pointed to the reclining figure who slept soundly on a bed. "I worry about her."

"It takes a tremendous amount of energy to nurture life," Pum'y'ra remarked in turn.

"When did she last take a meal?" Tir'shan asked.

The cougar fiddled with a silver bracelet that adorned her wrist, obviously unhappy with the boring duty that she had drawn. Pum'y'ra stretched. The wooden chair upon which she sat was a large and sturdy piece of furniture that Tir'shan knew would easily support him. "Just before sunrise, Cheetara awoke. Talitha made sure she had something to eat before she drifted off again."

That would explain some of Talitha's mood. She's tired too. He knew his assumption was a diversion from the truth. Later she will tell me all, he decided, convinced of his sister mystic's ways. I will discover Tygra's secrets too.

Tir'shan studied Cheetara. Even under the blanket he could mark her pregnancy. A cheetah having twins. Madness! He ran his fingers along his brow, a habit his companions in the temple would have known indicated deep thought. He said to the snarf, "She should take another meal. I will awaken her. Prepare something nourishing and simple."

The snarf snapped his fingers. "Done. I'll check with Talitha on what's best. She is probably still in the council chamber with the others." He touched the cougar's arm. "You come with me. We'll stop first by Tir'shan's quarters, the room next to yours. I'll show you what to do to help Panthro prepare it for the mrisenin."

His gaze met the snarf's. The elder's yellow eyes held a message that he could easily read: Cheetara can tell you what you need to know. "Thank you," Tir'shan said to the snarf, who nodded slightly, assured that the tall mystic had heeded his advice. Pum'y'ra watched their wordless interplay with a puzzled expression, then shrugged.

After the snarf and cougar had gone, Tir'shan stood by the cheetah's bed. He bent over her, and lightly touched her face. "Wake, Bintira, my beautiful one," he whispered. "You must take some nourishment."

Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. A slight gasp escaped her lips. Her deep gold eyes regarded him with wonder. "Tir'shan!" Cheetara exclaimed. "You must be he. Talitha's description--"

"Was probably too flattering," he answered with a chuckle. "Yes, you are correct. Since the others in this household were not startled by my height or unfamiliar with my calling, I have assumed that Talitha has spoken of me well before the arrival of this day."

"Indeed. And your current story must be quite the one for the telling," Cheetara remarked. The muted light that filtered through the curtains intensified the shadows that played across her weary white face, and darkened the brown patches of fur that accentuated her cheekbones and eyes. She started to speak again, but stopped. The black spots on her golden mane and body danced with her movement.

"Permit me to examine you. And after I have done so...please, by the Goddess that I serve, please tell me that which has not been spoken of in my presence, but which everyone knows."

"Tygra and Talitha are one."

He had misjudged the cheetah. Pregnancy had not dulled her directness. Her sharp arrow hit him squarely and deeply. She presented the truth before he could steel himself for the that which his soul already had surmised. The mystic took a deep breath to keep the sobs he felt rising in his throat locked away. He forced himself to say, "You have confirmed what I have suspected."

"I am sorry," Cheetara said, setting her hand against his leg in comfort.

Pity shaded her words, and that angered him. The fire in his soul burned his pain until he no longer cared how the situation between Tygra and Talitha had come to fruition. I should be concerned with how I am going to return to the world of the orri'savi, and not mire myself in the emotion of love lost, he railed at himself. I have a patient that needs ministering. I have a king to serve.

And a heart that must heal by eventually learning all, his inner voice chided. You cannot escape this, ri'sar'ri.

He felt a tugging at his trousers. "Please sit," the cheetah implored. I wished to be examined. You can tell me whose sons I bear."

"That is well," Tir'shan agreed softly, pulling his pain within and asking his inner voice to keep its counsel to itself. The mind state he hoped to reach to assist Cheetara would not accept his distress.

To his satisfaction, his body, the vessel of the Goddess, swiftly declared a truce. He sat upon the chair, and leaned forward. With the cheetah's permission, he opened the lacings that bound her robe. The great mound that her white abdomen had become rose before him, and appeared ready to burst. He set his hands delicately upon the cheetah, closed his eyes, and summoned his gift.

The vibrations of her life-force filled him, a strong melody colored by the two harmonies that were her cubs. He easily confirmed that she carried sons, one not many days older than the other. Each race had a harmonic signature, a subtle marker detectable only by mystics of substantial power such as himself. The birth was over thirty suns away, but not by much. The longer the cubs could remain within her nurturing womb, the better it would be for the developmentally younger, although paradoxically larger, twin. Despite the difficulty of her situation, Cheetara and her cubs were healthy. The danger of miscarriage rested in the weight exerted by the twins upon her cervix. Talitha's ministrations had kept that problem at bay. His sister mystic had been right to keep the female confined to her bed. Whether the cheetah could deliver the cubs naturally remained to be seen. By the time the day of her labor approached the cubs might have to be taken by the knife, a matter he did not feel inclined to discuss at the moment. Tir'shan withdrew his gift and opened his eyes. Wisps of violet danced over his fingers as his power ebbed. The cheetah regarded him with expectation as he closed her garment, and rearranged her blanket. He did not know whether she would be pleased with his report.

He tried to keep his tone casual. "Your sons have the mark of your race upon them, but it is the race of their fathers that is stronger, and that the world will clearly see."

"Red tiger and panther," she declared with no small measure of pride. "My desires have been realized, and more."

Her comment peaked the mystic's curiosity, but he felt no further desire to intrude upon her privacy. Her reasons for undertaking such a conception, its dangers, and the stigma it carried among the clans were her own, and not subject to his judgement. He said, "There is a hint of white tiger blood in one. Tygra's mother, after all, was a mystic."

The cheetah narrowed her eyes. "You know of his past."

Tir'shan admitted. "Lady Kalyn'ri told me."

"Lord Trel's mate is alive!" Cheetara exclaimed.

"As is Lord Trel," Tir'shan confirmed.

"Names of all the demons," Cheetara gasped. "How will we tell Tygra that his greatest foe still lives."

"Yes," the mystic replied, "How indeed."

*****

Tir'shan sat on a wooden chair larger than the one in Cheetara's room. The curving arms and feet ended in carved claws, a piece of furniture certainly made for royalty. He pensively studied his quarters. Smooth grey metal made an incongruous mate to stone. Once again, he marveled at the construction of the fortress, and renewed his determination to discover how a small group could raise it. Boots off, he rested his feet on the feather-filled mattress, which shifted under his weight. He staff and pack rested against one wall. Snarf had said that Panthro would bring the bed frame and more furniture later, for they were buried deep in the Lair's maze of store rooms. The nightstand to his left matched the chair. He wondered if the bed frame was also part of the set. All far too rich for this mystic, he thought. He wished then for the soft bed of earth in his own quarters back on the world of the orri'savi.

After her exam the cheetah had found the strength to plague him with more questions. He was glad when Pum'y'ra had returned, and had taken over her care. The snarf had taken him to his room, and without fanfare, told him that the others had no need of his presence until the evening meal. He was grateful for the reprieve, no matter who had decided that he should be left alone for a period of time. He rested his hands over his abdomen, and closed his eyes, hoping to diffuse the stress that had made every muscle tense. A timorous knock on his door broke his meditation. "Enter," he said, unsure of who was on the other side, but not surprised. There are too many hours before dinner for them to leave me in peace, he decided.

The door slid open. Talitha walked into the room, a steaming bowl of soup resting on the tray that she carried. "It is many hours before dinner, and I thought that you might be hungry," she said, her nervousness noticeable in the catch in her high voice.

The meal he had eaten at the inn still satisfied him, but Tir'shan decided that he would work his way slowly through the soup. Disappointing Talitha was not an option. He stood, and indicating the chair said, "Please sit."

Shaking her head, the petite white tigress set the tray down on the nightstand. "The chair is more suitable to one of your size, elder. The mattress will do fine for me," she answered firmly, but obviously pleased with the invitation.

"As you wish," he replied, seating himself as she settled on the mattress.

Her sapphire eyes teemed with questions, but he knew that she would not ask them until he allowed her the opportunity. Such are the ways of the temple, he thought sadly. Student cedes to master, younger yields to older. He rested his elbows on the armrests, and steepled his fingers. No matter his feelings, he knew where to begin with hers. "Some members of your family have survived. They made it to our ship."

Her lips parted in surprise, but no words came forth.

"Your father and mother. Your brothers, Dabir and Dagen. Your sister, Surati."

"Danior and his mate Kalinda?"

"Were not onboard."

"I never knew until now which vessel my family had finally boarded. Danior and Kalinda...I will never know if they made it to an ark ship that last day. I had received word that they had begun the return journey from the eastern lands to the city of the king. They had gone to those rich towns to sell the weavings made by our clan." Her hands began to tremble. Tir'shan bent down, and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms. He hugged her as she sat on his lap. Offering no resistance, Talitha rested her head against his chest and began to cry. He sat, silent and stoic, and let her weep until she finished.

Talitha raised her head. "This might bring Tygra," she said, resigned.

"Is he such a mind reader?" Tir'shan quipped, amazed that the tiger could exert any hold on the strong-willed Talitha.

"He and I..."

"Are lovers." Her eyes widened in astonishment. "Cheetara," he said with a weak smile, naming the one who had supplied the information.

"But did she tell you of the mind-link? Or of Tygra's special gifts? Or of our daughter slain by Mutants."

It was his turn to be shocked, and his countenance betrayed him.

"I see not," she said confidently. She moved from his body, and returned to the mattress. "Eat. The story is a long one. Let me tell it without interruption. I will then go, for I can bear no more revelations this day."

"Do so," Tir'shan instructed, "for never have I felt such confusion."

*****

The mystic reclined upon his bed watching the afternoon shadows that formed on the ceiling. Tygra had never come to disrupt his mate's storytelling. However, listening to Talitha's tale had drained him, for a mystic's empathy was both his strength and his weakness. As drunk as he had ever been, he had never possessed the imagination to concoct the adventures that this group had endured. A red tiger becoming a functioning mystic! Such a story few would believe. Listening to Talitha speak about the loss of her daughter...that had sliced his heart the most. He wondered if she would show him the altar she had made. How had he not felt the presence of sacred space or seen the rocks and flowers that they surely must have passed on their journey to the Lair. He had mired himself in his own concerns, and that had clouded his vision on many levels. Talitha might have feelings for him that a female still relatively new to full adulthood might experience, but her genuine love for Tygra was hard-earned, without question and evident in each word she had spoken.

Curse Servalla for separating us on the last day! he thought bitterly. I should have been on the ship with her and Talitha. Her actions inadvertently secured a place for her son over me. Tir'shan turned onto his side, and sighed. Jaga's ship possessed two suspension chambers. Servalla made the only decision she could. I should be thankful to Mrísena that I survived at all, even if I have aged chronologically more than my ruffed rival.

His restlessness spread through his limbs, so he stood. He opened a window and watched the sky, hoping to find comfort in the changing colors and clouds. How could he face anyone in the household this evening? Like the food that had settled uneasily in his stomach, the knowledge he had gained was too much to digest.

Maybe they will forget I am here, he prayed.

*****

He should have anticipated an ambush; he was in the company of seasoned warriors. Tir'shan stared at the plate of meat that had grown cold, and wondered when the interrogation would begin.

After Talitha's departure, he had indulged in brooding. However, the stress of the day had finally extracted its toll, and he had fallen asleep on the chair he had come to consider a throne. When the summons to dinner had finally come, twilight had arrived. The snarf had escorted him to the dining hall, indicated his place at the table, and had left him alone. It was then that he had noticed that the table had placed upon it a meal for only one.

Tir'shan looked up at the windows set high on the wall. The light from within the chamber reflected on the glass, and made viewing the outside difficult. He had no way to judge the passage of time. How long will they make me suffer? he thought. The answer came more swiftly than he had expected, for the door to the hall slid open as if his mind had ordered it. The Lord of Thundera dressed in a purple robe of fine weave entered. At his side prowled the tiger, a formidable figure in black.

The mystic wondered if he had inadvertently offended the young king, or whether Tygra had poisoned Lord Lion-o's mind against him. He found it difficult to believe that anyone that Talitha loved could be capable of such treachery. But she is still so young, he thought, despite what she has endured.

Lion-o sat upon a chair directly across from his own, and motioned that he should remain seated. Tygra stood behind his king. All he requires is a long sword to complete this picture, Tir'shan decided. He is an ever vigilant warrior serving his king, regardless of his mystic heritage. You are Siberan's son, Tygra, he decided as he waited for the first question to fall.

The lion shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. "We thought this method of introduction better," he said softly, stealing a glance at Tygra.

"I will answer all your questions, my king," Tir'shan replied respectfully.

"Who rules?" The stern words were a command more than an inquiry, and to Tir'shan's surprise, came not from the king, but from his aide.

"Lir of the Desert clan. He is connected to the throne through Lord Jaga, Lion-o's cousin, and had the best claim."

"Was it contested by the people?" the tiger continued.

"It was contested by two other claimants with close, but weaker ties to the throne."

"And how was the conflict settled?" the king finally asked.

"By our traditions, and for the sake of the people, by contest. And the gods favored the one with the truest claim."

The tiger gave a low, approving growl; the king nodded thoughtfully, thestrands of his red mane fluttering. "How fares the 'king'?" the lion asked, the hesitation in his voice made his words waver with doubt.

"Lir has ruled for more than 5 seasons, and the people favor him."

Tygra leaned forward, and placed his hands on the table, his body as taut as a bowstring. "Would they accept the rightful ruler?"

"King Lir is renowned for his honor. He will relinquish the crown to the son of Claudus, and fight those who would oppose him. Leaving their comfortable new home will set less well with the people, for our hosts have given us much. However, the asira'savi will not permit our staying. Lir knows this, and when the time is right, the people will move," Tir'shan remarked. "Ba'sir has a spaceship, and the asira'savi can alter reality to assist him in any way they choose."

"Such power...." Lion-o whispered.

"Tell us of more of these people," Tygra demanded, "and of the one who traveled with you."

Tir'shan sighed. Detailing the abilities of the orri'savi; relating his journey with Eri'mintálí; the telling would take some time. His freedom would be delayed. "You should sit, my Lord Tygra," he replied with resignation.

*****

The mystic shifted on his chair, his back muscles growing stiff. The only comfort he gained was from the Lord of Thundera, who eyed him with sympathy. Tygra's disapproval remained in the frown that dominated his face, but which now intensified. The striped lord pounded the table with his fist. He snarled, "Your guide and pilot has disappeared! You have no idea where the spaceship that brought you here rests, except that it is somewhere by the sea. And even if you found it, you could not fly it. How can our people come to Third Earth if you have no way to return to the world of the Four-Forms!"

Lion-o remarked with solemnity, "Peace, Tygra. I cannot believe that our gods would torment us so."

"My king, the gods sent us to a world ruled by an undead creature that continually seeks our destruction! If that were not enough for their amusement, they have added Mutants to plague us."

"Have you no respect for Mrísena, who seeks only the healing of all beings!" Tir'shan exclaimed, his sudden rage surprising even him. He shot up from his chair, and leaned toward the tiger, dwarfing his nemesis. "That you who are a mystic should say such things of Her by insinuation!"

Knowing of Tygra's unusual gifts worked to his advantage. The lord stepped back from the table as if to ward off a blow. He wondered what words had not passed between the lovers while he had waited in his chamber.

"Enough!" It was Lion-o's turn to express anger. He turned to Tygra and commanded, "At first light, you and Tir'shan will take the Thundertank and journey to the mountains. Locate this mysterious pool. If it is a place of our kind, as it seems to be, there you may find an answer to our problems. Our gods will not betray us." The young king stood. "I suggest you both rest, for your journey will be arduous."

"Panthro won't approve--"

"I said enough!" the king snapped, cutting off his aide.

The tiger's eyes widened with hurt. He bowed stiffly, and muttered, "As you wish, my king."

Before Tir'shan could speak, Tygra spun on his heels, and exited the chamber.

Lion-o murmured, "Tread softly, mystic."

As the king departed the hall, Tir'shan wondered for whom his message was meant. He folded his hands in prayer. "Mrísena give us strength! Eri has not perished, and he will assist us." The uncertainty that had invaded his heart he cursed.