Labyrinth

Tygra admired the stone dwelling surrounded by trees. He and Talitha would have their own home in Lion-o's city. A little privacy; a nice garden; a sacred place to meditate; that was all he had wanted for himself, and he had indulged. After the asira'savi had constructed the city from his thoughts, he had wondered whether his secret desire would manifest. That it had happened pleased him. That no one, not even his mate, had yet to comment on the garden's unusual feature warmed him. It would be his place alone for just a while longer. He needed the support and comfort that could only come from inner strength, and the design placed upon the ground.

A breeze ruffled the colorful leaves that remained on the trees. It was good that nothing had died in the birth of the city. Plant life judiciously decorated the streets, reducing the sterility of the buildings. The border of the forest had retreated, but that was all, a small price to pay for beauty.

A gurgling sound came from a basket set by a tree root. Altair gave him a big smile. "What do you think, little green eyes?" His son shook his fists with glee. At least he is a happy cub, Tygra decided. When you are older, you will walk the labyrinth too.

The architect rounded the perimeter of the black and white tile spiral set into the earth, the hem of his blue robe caressing the fading grass. The ancient device had led many warriors to look within their hearts. His father had kept the tradition on Thundera. It was time that he did the same.

"To find...what? He guessed at his motives. Perhaps the asira'savi had not truly gone. If it appeared, it could tell him of Dah'ri and his last minutes. Why was it so important to know? Maybe he would have to discover that on his own. He had searched the city looking for a symbol like the creature had suggested. The old altar of Mrísena that had once lain beyond Cats' Lair now rested within the city walls, another sacred grove. It had shed no light on the stranger's demise.

There were other matters to consider when he walked into the labyrinth. After the city's construction, Lion-o had delivered a message that had shocked him. He wanted him to be the Chi'ris'rin of a new clan. It would make his mixed race son's life easier, for he would have a place with people who had roots in many different clans. Would it harm his relationship with his cousin Su'ti, leader of the red tiger clan? Would he feel that he had betrayed his kin, as his uncle Trel believed his father had?

Tygra hoped the labyrinth would strengthen his resolve, for to the surprise of Talitha and Lion-o, he had thought the idea a good one. This was a decree from the King, but perhaps he had finally grown into the maturity that his ruff suggested. Whatever Su'ti or Trel thought mattered not. In the end, the greater good had to be served. There was no room on Third Earth for outcasts whose only crime was to have mixed blood. He doubted even his aunt Te'sara would interfere with Lion-o's wishes. The healers had long given refuge to those who had no place.

Mystics generally relinquished clan responsibilities to devote themselves to the people. But although he had healing powers, he wondered whether he would ever achieve the prowess of those born into the white tiger clan, and not the red. In truth, he had to admit that he could not see himself living in the house of Mrísena. In the end, he knew he must walk parallel paths. One served the King, and one served the Goddess, but both served each other.

The architect placed his foot upon the first tile. The measure of each pace matched his breath. He had expected quiet as he moved along the curves. Snatches of conversation flirted with his ears. He forced himself not to be distracted by murmurs. What he needed to know would come through clearly. Sparkling colors appeared on the tiles. They merged into a rainbow ribbon which undulated like a serpent. Tygra kept to his task. Movement was essential. One did not stop until one had reached the heart of the labyrinth.

The serpentine rainbow faded. Images began to form on the tiles. Thunderans of a race thought long dead appeared. The desert clan had chosen not to leave Homeworld thousands of seasons before. His companions no longer doubted that Third Earth was Homeworld. Yet because of their small numbers, they had never undertaken the task of finding those left behind. Was this a sign of their existence? The desert to the East of the lair was poisoned land. Perhaps they lived beyond the western forest. Old maps held by Xerxes the starborn suggested such a place. "O-a-sis", he whispered, recalling the writing on one such map.

The Felinari vanished into a ribbon of blue. The color pulled itself free of the tiles. It twisted upon itself, and rose up in a move Tygra had not anticipated. The architect stopped. Before him in the heart of maze floated a blue rose. Its spicy fragrance reminded him of all that he loved and cherished. Myriad images of the good things in his life flooded his senses. In joy, he reached for the delicate blossom. His fingers tingled. In that instant he saw a figure robed in red traversing a rough path. "Desert clan," he said softly. The individual halted and looked backed as if he had sensed his gaze and his words. It was the blue eyes that the architect recognized. "Dah'ri!" Tygra shouted before the vision ended.

A shadow spread across the landscape. A thunderous sound shook the trees, and caused the colorful leaves to cascade around them. Altair cried in terror. Tygra leapt across the labyrinth, and lifted up his son. In the warmth of his father's arms, the cub quieted. It was only then that Tygra realized the importance of what had occurred.

He settled Altair back in his basket. "The people have finally come home, little one," he whispered to his son.