Earth Dreams

The Felinari'i reclining on the bed had not the strength to sigh. The breeze that came through the window burned his face instead of cooling it. The mystic lay still under the sheet that covered him. Small movements to relax his cramped muscles allowed needles of pain to pierce his fevered body. It appeared that the universe intended to deprive him of rest, peace and healing.

His tired eyelids let into view little. He depended on bits of color and sound to confirm his suspicion that Tygra and Talitha stood by window. The tiger couple, one of the red clan and the other of the white, discussed his illness in hushed tones that still managed to reach his ears.

"How much longer must he suffer?" Tygra asked. "It has been almost 14 suns since the sickness began, far longer than most cases. Shouldn't he have improved by now? He is no better than when he collapsed at the council meeting, so many suns past."

"It is true that he has a greater sensitivity to the virus than most, but his illness has almost peaked, dear one. Isn't it better that he endure some discomfort in order to gain the benefit of immunity to River Plague?" Talitha challenged. "After we examined him, he agreed to the treatment we suggested. He expects us to do nothing, unless he faces death."

A healer strong enough to follow the right course despite my misery. One day, she will be on the council of mystics, like me, Tir'shan thought with affection.

The white tiger's thoughts journeyed back to the first day of his illness. A malaise had greeted him when he had awakened, but he had attributed it to fatigue and stress, and had assumed that a good meal and a restful day were all the healing that he had required.

During the meeting with those that lived in the Lair, Tygra had revealed the knowledge that he had divinely gained as to the location of Eri'mintálí's spaceship. It was decided by the king that he was to accompany the architect on another expedition. They had planned to use the Thundertank once again, and drive it toward the sea. It wasn't until the meeting drew to a conclusion, that he had begun to feel dizzy and his vision had blurred. By then it was too late to heal himself. As he stood, the room had spun, and he had fallen.

He had revived on a table in a healing room. It was then that Talitha had pronounced her diagnosis of River Plague, an illness he most likely contracted during his journey to the Lair. Except for natural treatments to ease his symptoms, it was decided that he should endure the illness, so that he would never have to suffer from it again.

If only I knew how long the torment would be, I would have insisted on healing, Tir'shan decided gloomily.

A door opened, then closed. Tygra had departed. The gentle brushing of a robe against stone reached his ears. Talitha's shadow covered him. Her cool white hand touched his face. "Be strong, elder. It won't be much longer until your strength returns."

Tir'shan reached for her hand, but found nothing. His sister mystic had vanished. The light faded from the room until everything appeared grey.

The mystic sat up, a task far easier than he had anticipated, for the weight of his illness had lifted. He surveyed the strange landscape that his quarters had become. He looked to where the door had been, and instead saw a path that lead to a radiant garden. His mind refused to accept what his eyes beheld, but his natural curiosity propelled him forward.

Tir'shan crossed the threshold from greyness to light. The air was sweet with the flowers of summer, but cool with the delicate movements of a breeze that caressed him. A simple brown tunic now covered his nakedness. The discrepancy and strange surroundings did not cause him to fear. Under the influence of the quiet retreat, calmness and acceptance sustained him.

A blossom caught his attention, its blue petals out of place in the sea of reds and yellows. "A mountain m'stera," the mystic remarked in surprise. "How can it survive the heat?"

"A northern bloom is hardy," a melodic voiced answered. "It can survive wherever it takes root."

The white tiger turned swiftly, and faced a being almost as amazingly tall as he. Shimmering black fabric draped a willowy figure barely discernable as female. Violet piping decorated the hem, sleeves and mantle of her garment. A golden circlet graced her brow. A gauzy grey veil shielded her nose and mouth. From what little he could glean of her face, and considering her height, the mystic determined that the stranger belonged to one of the red tiger races that had thrived in Thundera's frigid north.

He wished to discover more. Tir'shan sat on a stone bench near a tiny pool, and beckoned for the female to follow.

The tigress sat beside him. She lowered her veil, but not her eyes. Her irises were a penetrating dark brown rimmed with black that probed his soul. What does she hope to find? Will I reach her expectations? Tir'shan wondered, the idea unbidden and unnerving.

"I am called Tir'sarla," the tigress said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had grown between them.

The mystic grinned because he knew the meaning of her name despite its northern origins. "'Little comet'," he answered with pride.

"Well done, a'si'mi," Tir'sarla praised.

She had called him 'son'. Tir'shan felt the heat rise in his face, and berated himself for allowing the affectionate term that she had used to embarrass him.

Her hand lightly brushed his cheek. "It is my right," she whispered. "Permit me to have some enjoyment of it, for I had little while I lived.

He could feel his eyes widening as what she had said settled in his mind, but he could not frame the question that would give him confirmation.

The Felinaria regarded him warmly, sensing his mood. "Look to the pool, a'si'mi, and I will tell you what should have been told to you long ago."

Tir'shan nodded mutely, and gazed at the water near his feet. An image formed: wind and ice blasted a snowy plain.

"Te'sara and the others who serve Mrísena related to you that you came from the northern mountains, but they did not tell you more, perhaps, you may come to judge, with good reason."

"I only know that I was very young when I arrived at the temple," Tir'shan replied with melancholy. "I was also very big for a cub. Many were my nurses. That is how I earned the name Tir'shan, the 'little mountain'."

The mystic sighed. "Many times I asked about my parentage, but all who lived within the temple denied the knowledge."

"Give yourself comfort in knowing that they spoke the truth, for such knowledge posed a danger." The tigress passed her hand over the pool. "Observe, and weep, a'si'mi."

The scene in the water changed. A great battle raged among warring clans of mountain tigers. In the center of the carnage stood a figure who reached 8 feet in height, and wore only an ak'ti despite the cold and the snow. The Felinari'i swung a great long sword with ease, and slew all who tried to attack him. His craggy features might have been handsome at one time, but the scars of war had stolen any beauty he had once possessed. The warrior's teeth were filed to points. The great delight he took in killing made his grinning face a demon specter. Tir'shan looked away from the pool, sickened by what he saw.

Tir'sarla stroked the mystic's wrist. "You must watch, for he is your sire: Sartren, king of the rebel mountain tigers."

"No! That I cannot believe!" Tir'shan shouted, leaping to his feet.

"And I am the one who bore you," Tir'sarla said softly. "From red came white as the gods had decreed."

Tir'shan returned to the bench, the strength leaving his legs. He reached for the pool, and slapped the surface of the water. The visions of battle faded. Only the sky above, and the fleecy clouds that drifted across it, looked back at him.

"I never wanted to be part of this drama," the tigress admitted. I was mri'cesstra, the eldest daughter of the chieftain of the Great Crater clan. Despite the hardships of our clime, my life was one of privilege and comfort." Her dark eyes gazed at him sorrowfully. Tir'sarla passed her hand over the pool, and a new scene appeared. A small caravan traveled across the snowy crags of the far north. "See how proud I was astride my zamlar, my superior breeding obvious in my carriage. I was going to meet A'mhar, he who was to be my mate when I had reached first fertility." She returned to him a smile brimming with loss. "All that changed when Sartren's warriors attacked my travelling party." The tigress stood and began to pace. "Because of the dangers the rebels presented, my father had sent out a decoy caravan. We had believed our true plan and route a well kept secret. We had not counted on a betrayer in our midst." Tir'sarla tossed a rock into the water. "Mif'tar, who had desired me, believed he would be well compensated for his treachery. In a sense, he was, for the warriors slew him. However, everyone else in my group also died. I was left behind to live."

Tir'sarla shook her head. "I failed in my obligation to destroy myself, for I did not move swiftly enough with my knife. Sartren's followers made sure that I could not go to the Silence. They overwhelmed me; bound me; drugged me." The pool yielded another scene. "And so you see how I was lead in chains before this northern 'king'." The leering face in the water gave an approving nod.

Tir'shan looked away. Shame filled his heart. Tir'sarla touched his face. "Fear not. I will not show you how he possessed me at my first cycle. It is sufficient that you know that he did. Bound and drugged, I had no energy to fight. Despite all this, know that my will was strong. That was where Sartren erred."

A glittering in'risi alighted on the tigress's hand. She pointed to it. "Our symbol of hope. In Sartren's house, I had no reason to hope, or dream, or live. I hated him, for the pleasure he took of me. I despised you, the seed that grew within my body. I swelled early, for you were destined to be big, and as I did so, Sartren lost interest. The drugging ceased. My chains dropped. The king knew that escape from the mountains for one in my state was impossible. But I was the daughter of a chieftain, and embraced the impossible."

"When your hands were freed, and their guard was low, why did you not try to destroy me and yourself?" Tir'shan asked, his curiosity waxing despite his mixed emotions.

"That is when Mrísena intervened," the tigress answered calmly.

"My mind sharpened with the removal of the drugs. I planned our death, but one night I had a dream like no other." Tir'sarla made a wide sweep with her hand. "I was here, and here is where I met the Goddess. She told me of the gift I carried, the cub born to be ri'sar'ri."

The tigress laughed. "I had no reason to believe a dream, except for what occurred next. Sartren's shri'na had a similar dream. She told him that their vicious god, whose name I will not utter, insisted that my white cub be sacrificed."

Tir'sarla shook her head. "Sartren was horrified to learn that he had sired one not of the red race. His enemies among his people claimed his blood was corrupted. They tried to force him from power. A struggle ensued, but in the end Sartren still reigned. He turned his misfortune into an opportunity. He decided that at the end of my confinement, his priests would rip you alive from my body, then offer you to the god. He convinced the people that the sacrifice of one who was mystic borne would enrich them all. They believed that their god, not Sartren, had sent a white tiger cub into an unwilling vessel for their benefit. Sartren had the honor and obligation of returning the gift in the bloodiest manner possible. He also had his guards resume their watch upon me."

"How did you ever manage to leave?"

"Despite the wars they have waged, Sartren's people have always been nomads. They moved frequently with the night. I waited for a sign from the Goddess. When winter began to give way to spring, she supplied it. One evening a thick and dangerous fog suddenly covered the troop. In the confusion that ensued, I made my move, with only faith in the Goddess to lead me.

"I feared capture more than I did death from a fall. A mysterious clearing appeared in the fog. I found refuge in a small opening through which I could barely fit in the rocks. When the fog lifted completely, I heard the warriors, then saw them run past my hiding place. Perhaps they thought it too small to shelter me, or perhaps the Goddess made them blind to it. They passed by only once more. Still, I waited there silently for two days to be sure they were gone until hunger pushed me forward. Then, like the nomads, I traveled at night, and used the stars to guide me, for I had some familiarity with the geography of the northern realms."

"What did your father say when you returned to him?" Tir'shan queried with sympathy.

The tigress's eyes widened. "It was never my intention to go home. Despite you, I was still disgraced!"

"But if what you have said about Mrísena--"

"As I walked down the mountains, a spring snow almost brought my end. I let the Goddess guide my steps to a village whose clans owed allegiance to a different tiger chieftain, but one who was also loyal to Thundera's true king. I collapsed at the gates of the town."

"And these people helped you," Tir'shan declared.

Tir'sarla nodded. "They only asked that after you were born, I send you to the great temple of healing in the west, as was your destiny."

"And no one wished to put the village at risk from invasion by Sartren."

"Could you blame them, a'si'mi? Could you fault your raising at the temple?"

Guilt pooled in the mystic's heart. "No, but I wish someone has told me of my birth, so I could have contacted you while you lived, and thanked you properly."

"Although a mystic met a mountain tiger at the borderlands in order to take you, no one in your temple ever knew from which village you came. You were sent to the west by a circuitous route, and several tigers interceded. That is how we wanted it. Sartren and his people never surrender. And this you should always remember, for your life remains in danger."

"You cannot mean--" Tir'shan began.

The figure of his mother began to fade. "Beware the rebels who have survived, for they plot your end." Her last words declined to a whisper as she disappeared.

Tir'shan stood and shouted, "Wait! There is still much I need to learn." Only the rustling of the leaves answered his plea. The ground beneath him began to melt.

"No!"

"Peace, elder, peace. It was only a dream."

Cool, gentle hands guided the mystic to an upright position. Tir'shan surveyed his surrounding. Once more he rested on his bed. Talitha watched him with concern.

"You have suffered enough. It is time for mystic healing."

She raised her hands, but he pushed them away. "No, little one. I shall not endure this fever again."

Talitha replied, "As you wish." She narrowed her dark blue eyes in assessment. "Actually you seem better, more focused."

"I am hungry," he stated hoping she would leave, so that he might be alone with his thoughts. "A nice piece of meat or fish will do."

The tigress smiled. "Definitely better." She bowed slightly. "I shall see to your wish."

Tir'shan took a deep breath after she left the chamber. The dream he had recalled in full, and had no doubts concerning the truth he had learned. He folded his hands tightly to keep them from trembling. Holy Mrísena guide me, he prayed. For I do not know what to do with this knowledge.

A passing cloud darkened the light streaming into his room. I wonder if she ever knew peace, he thought sadly.