Starry Night

"See. All he does is sit and stare. I infused a crystal with magic, so that we could communicate, but he says little to me." The starborn folded his arms in frustration. "Maybe you can exorcise his ghosts, Talitha."

The Felinaria studied her friend and the stranger of whom she knew little. Although both men superficially resembled each other in the sweep of their brows and the points of their ears, they represented different races. The blond man, whom she had named Dah'ri, would be stronger when he returned to full health. He would have the muscle mass and the extra chambered heart to power a body that could best Panthro in any competition. But he would never arrive at health until he released his depression, for that is what he suffered. At least, that was her assumption.

"Let me go to him, Xerxes. Although his memory has not returned, what you have told me suggests that phantoms disturb his sleep." She placed her hand against the young Master of the Unicorns arm. "It is better that he comes to Cats' Lair. We have more room than you, and more distractions. He cannot hide within himself there."

"I leave it to you, Talitha." Xerxes gestured in farewell, then strode back to his cottage. The loose robe of white, ideal for a hot day, contrasted sharply with his black hair. Despite his qualities as a healer, the starborn had no patience for someone who would not work toward recovery. "He has much to learn," Talitha murmured to herself.

The mystic glanced at Dah'ri, who was attired as simply as Xerxes. If he had heard any of their exchange he displayed it not. The man, who had mysteriously appeared one strange day, stared at a stone by his sandaled feet as if it held all the wonders of the universe. But who can say what is in a stone, Talitha mused.

*****

Dah'ri stood quietly in the courtyard of Cats' Lair, and studied its architecture. From the subtle changes in his expression, Talitha discerned that some memory stirred.

"Is it not beautiful?" she asked, hoping to compel speech from the reticent man.

"Very technologically advanced," he answered unexpectedly. "An enigma on the plain." The stone around his neck glowed red as he spoke. Although his words sounded foreign, she understood them perfectly.

"Just like you," Talitha quipped, giving a tug on the green belt that circled her waist. She observed the stone again. The color shifted to a blue as pleasing as her robe as it conveyed her words to him in a language he could understand.

Odder had been their ability to communicate with touch and telepathy. Because of the magic stone, that technique was no longer necessary. Perhaps he is more comfortable with the starborn's gift anyway, she thought. Xerxes fulfilled his promise. The spell lesson probably did him some good.

Dah'ri pointed to the ridge in which the Lair rested. "Does the line rise?"

"Yes, into mountains. It curves from west to north."

"There is ancient power there," the man murmured.

"Why do you say that?" Talitha asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I can feel it," Dah'ri replied.

But does it call you? the white tigress wondered.

*****

The night had passed uneventfully, although a part of Talitha had hoped otherwise. Dah'ri had taken the introductions to the other members of the household with polite resignation. He had eaten little of Snarf's cooking. She had offered the quarters she did not share with Tygra, her own private space, but Dah'ri had refused to sleep there. He retired early to a small, windowless room that Panthro had quickly furnished with minimum appointments. To take care of his needs, the man had asked only for a chamber pot, a pitcher of water and a basin.

The mystic shifted her attention to the courtyard from her perch on the steps of Cats' Lair. Bare-chested Panthro, clad in linen trousers, menacingly circled the man, who held only a staff. Exercise is not what the stranger needed, but the grey panther had convinced her that the diversion would do him some good. How does Panthro even know that he can use a staff? Talitha wondered. The man's stance and his grip on the weapon suggested that knowledge of the martial arts was something that he did not possess.

I was wrong, the tigress decided. He needs calmer pursuits. She stood, and shouted, "Dah'ri." The man turned in her direction. For his own reasons, Panthro lunged at the stranger. Before she could warn him, the man spun on his heels. He did not ease up on his weapon, but delivered a strong blow to the warrior's back. Panthro fell. In an instant, the man had him pinned by the throat. Any movement by the warrior might prove fatal, but Panthro raised his palms in a gesture of defeat. Dah'ri threw down the staff, a look of horror and confusion marring his face. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, as he offered his hand and assistance to Panthro.

His sincere words floated up the steps of Cats' Lair. His mind does not remember, but his body does, Talitha thought with amazement. Panthro, rubbing his back, tried to talk to the man, but Dah'ri brushed him aside.

The mystic looked across the plain. Hidden at the forest's edge was a place of quiet reflection that needed tending. "Calmer pursuits," the white tigress repeated to herself. To the sulking stranger who gazed in the same direction as she, Talitha shouted, "Dah'ri, I need your help."

*****

Dah'ri spread petals on the altar to Mrísena, each movement he made a prayer. The observation illuminated Talitha's thoughts, and took them down new paths. The comments he had made about the plants plucked from her hydroponic garden had indicated an extensive knowledge of botany. The reverence he exhibited for her sacred place suggested the manner of a priest.

He began to sing softly. His voice, a rare, light baritone, drifted gently over trees and stones. He comforted the plants that had offered their beauty to the Goddess. He praised their sacrifice in melodic tones that rose and fell in harmony with his breath and the light breezes that cooled the heat of the day. When he finished, Talitha sighed, missing the loving music.

Dah'ri's blue eyes met her own. Sorrow, that should be his name, she thought. In sympathy, Talitha touched his hand. Reality became a dream. An old woman, her hair a long mantle of silver, sat by a hearth. A young man knelt next to her chair. For a moment, she thought of Xerxes, for the youth shared the same raven black hair and green eyes as the starborn. The man's leather armor and long sword marked him as a warrior, not a guardian, as was Xerxes role. Sorrow. She had seen it in Dah'ri. She saw it again in the warrior.

The stranger broke free, shaking her off as if she were diseased. Had she made a breech in the wall that imprisoned his memory. "You remember?"

Dah'ri shook his head in denial. "There is no road back," he croaked.

*****

They had journeyed in silence for some time, following a trail that ended at a small lake. Talitha scrutinized the man as he knelt on the grass under the shade of a tree. She guessed that the woman and the warrior in his mind might have been his kin, but the stranger had remained silent, offering no other thoughts.

"If you go for a swim, be careful of the fish," she joked. "They have no fear, and liked to play between one's legs."

Dah'ri locked his hands more tightly, ignoring her. Was it despair or prayer that fixed his pose, Talitha wondered. She drifted to the waterline. Tiny creatures fought the pull of the lake, washing over stone and moss. Some found themselves free of the liquid, but in danger of death, glued to the unforgiving rocks. Dah'ri fights too, she decided, but his enemy is unseen.

The wind shifted slightly. A pungent odor filled the glade. Jackalian! she thought with alarm. She raced back to Dah'ri. "We must leave," she ordered, grabbing his arm.

Reacting to her serious tone, the man offered no resistance. His eyes registered back her fear.

"Go," he replied.

They made their way back to the trail, as Talitha retrieved her communicator. Before she could activate it, a hairy figure in tattered clothing crashed through the undergrowth. The jackalian, thin and snarling, brandished a poorly made short sword. "Fresh-meat at last," he cackled.

Talitha flew into the shrubbery, the man having pushed her aside. A voice with the depth of a mountain boomed from his frail form. His hands traced a pattern in the air. Glowing letters suddenly appeared before him. With a final shout, he launched the fiery words toward the stunned Mutant. The jackalian's clothes burst into flames. His sword fell from his hand, as he ran screaming toward the lake.

Wasting no time, the man pulled the mystic to her feet. Together they ran down the trail.

*****

It was past midnight, and still the man knelt before the chasm. Without the benefit of moonlight, he was but a shape under the sweep of stars that flowed across the sky, a lonely form forgotten by all except the two who watched him from the command center of Cats' Lair.

"Talitha, he has been there since sundown. He has taken no food or drink. Shouldn't you intervene?" Lion-o asked as he adjusted his monitor. "He might jump."

The mystic answered, "Something calls to him. I am hoping that he can break through whatever barrier keeps his memories imprisoned. If he needs to sit under the stars, so be it. His body marks his suffering, but he is not the type to kill himself. One who wields power such as I have witnessed today longs not for death. He wants to live in peace and safety, as all good people do."

"But even the good wear down," Lion-o remarked, alluding gently to Tygra.

Talitha stretched, ignoring his comparison. "I am glad to turn the watch over to you. Before I rest, I will speak to him again."

Lion-o smiled with relief.

*****

She approached the man with caution, grateful for the superior vision of Thunderans on a moonless evening. "Dah'ri," she called softly, not wishing to startle him. He moved slowly and rose to his feet. "The hour grows late."

He smiled wistfully as if embracing the memory of a lover. "But is it not a beautiful night." He waved to the sky, his arm carving a wide arc. "Each star tells a story and allows us to grow in wisdom."

"You remember."

He shook his head sadly, absently brushing back a lock of long blonde hair. "No, but they give me comfort. The reason does not matter."

"Well said," Talitha agreed, offering her hand.

Before he could respond, light flooded the courtyard, as if a star had fallen from the sky in response to his melancholy. An alarm sounded from within the fortress.

Two shapes emerged from the radiance. She had counted the suns since his departure, and hoped they would not amount to many. Mrísena had answered her prayers. "Tygra!" Talitha cried, ignoring the glittering asira'savi who was his companion.

Her mate passed what he carried to the alien, then rushed to embrace her. Barriers down, they reveled in their oneness of spirit until a pang of guilt created a separation, and Talitha pulled away.

She looked at Dah'ri whose expression was cryptic. The crystalline voice of the asira'savi chimed in her mind. *When he is stronger, take him to the mountains. You know the place. Tell him, in the end, the decision will be his alone.* The creature handed her a sheathed sword, the object Tygra had held.

The sphere of light that had transported alien and Thunderan dissipated. The beacons of Cats' Lair had replaced it. The asira'savi faded into the night, leaving three people in the courtyard. Their numbers grew quickly as members of the household, questions flying, streamed from the Lair.

Dah'ri slipped back into the fortress. And only Talitha noticed.