by Lady Bast

Note: This story would take place before the arrival of Lynx-o and crew. Less people to keep track of, heh heh heh.

The chamber was excruciatingly dark, the blackness a tangible thing that crept along the skin and filled the lungs with velvet smog. It muffled the tortured cries which echoed from beyond the shadows of the main chamber and choked the weak rays of sunlight as they valiantly fought their way into the hall through a single vent in the roof. Those feeble fingers of golden dawn glittered dully on the surface of a large pool like tarnished gold. The pool was bottomless, endless fathoms of darkness ringed in black onyx and guarded by four pitted obelisks at each of the cardinal points.

The sights - if one could be said to see - and the sounds - if one could be said to hear - of that place would have driven a mortal man mad, but the occupant behind those stone walls was no longer mortal and had reached insanity long since.

Now there was a dry shuffling as a hunched figure approached the pool. Emaciated, cloaked in a tattered robe as red as spilt blood, its steps were slow, but sure and bearing authority. A cowl hid the ruined face so none would see the weathered skin, the cracked lips, the swollen tongue, the eyes that were no longer a man's, but a demon's. Perhaps this was best.

The figure chanted in a voice as hoarse as the whispering of dead leaves and gestured with a single, bandaged hand. Then he - for he was once a man of his people - looked into the pool and smiled. He banished the vision with a thought...his guest had arrived.

"S-s-so, Mumm-ra, you would s-s-send me on a mis-sion, yes-s-s?" hissed the reptilian bending his bulk into the parody of a bow.

"I would, Slithe," grinned the red-clad figure evilly. "Now pay attention. Though this spell has left me too weak to complete the task, I have yet enough power to destroy the likes of you. This bottle," he rasped, drawing a thick cylinder from the folds of his robe, "holds the destruction of the Thundercats."

Slithe chuckled. "Another scheme doomed to failure, O Mighty One?" mocked the mutant.

"SILENCE!" roared the mage, eyes flashing in anger. As if to concur, the walls themselves crackled with energy, lighting for a single moment the dismal chamber. "This plan will not fail unless you do! What has gone before...bah... parlour tricks. This spell," he repeated, clutching the bottle, "carries just the right amount of science and magic. Woe to you if you should fail for it will be a hundred years before the heavens are once again in the proper alignment."

"And what is-s in this-s magic bottle, O Powerful Mumm-ra" drawled the reptilian, picking at a claw with his dagger to accentuate his disinterest.

"Firerock...Thundranium as the meddlesome 'Cats know it...is a powerful element. This batch has been powdered with a hammer of sky-fallen metal," grinned the mage. Slithe acknowledged the power of meteorite iron with a nod. "And was then rendered molten...liquid. Did you know it was translucent in such a state?" Slithe shook his head and shrugged. What did it matter?

"Of course you would not know or care," sniffed Mumm-ra with contempt, "but even you can appreciate the difficulty of bonding one element to an incompatible other." The mage grinned at the reptile's disbelief. "Impossible? No. With magic it is only difficult. Yes, Slithe, when the stars are in alignment, even stone can bond with water.

"And that," he finished hefting the container once more, "is what is in this bottle, Slithe. Water. Water so thick with Thundranium that it pours like syrup, though it may still regain its consistency when added to the right amount of liquid."

"And what," asked an intrigued Slithe with a questioning squint, "do you propoz-se I do with this-s magical bottle?"

"You have not guessed?" sneered the mage. "And you call yourself a Mutant? What I propose you do with the bottle is simple." His grin spread, cracked lips pulling back over rotting teeth. "I want you to empty it into the resevoires of the Cat's Lair."

Slithe waited patiently in the shadows of the forest which marked the boundary of Cat's Lair, his nosediver silent, but ready. The Lair's scanners wouldn't bother to track a lone traveler this far from the citadel and the reptilian was being exceptionally careful not to cause a stir of any kind.

The spell Mumm-ra had given him was limited to two hours. Plenty of time, it seemed, since the spell was an illusion of invisibility. Still, many things could go wrong, he thought to himself, watching the Lair through a pair of Vultureman's spy glasses.

He saw the twins, no more than kittens, drop the ball they were tossing about in the twilight and run for the door of the fortress. Called in for bed, most likely, he decided, starting a bit when they turned abruptly and scampered back toward him. He relaxed when one stooped to scoop up their forgotten plaything before returning to the Lair. Slithe waited another hour as the sky darkened to a deep, velvety black before deciding to put his plan into action.

He took a small globe from his carrying case and smashed it against the nosediver, stepping into the cloud of dust it produced. He sneezed once or twice before the dust settled and was gratified to discover that the illusion extended to hearing and smell as well as sight when a squirrel, ignorant of his sneezing, ran into his foot at full speed and staggered back, dismayed to find solidity where it saw nothing but grass and trees. Mounting the nosediver, Slithe angled it west of Cat's Lair, seeking the path which would lead him up the hill that protected the back of the fortress. There, he knew, would be the aqueduct - the Thunderians' sole source of fresh water.

It was too easy. The plan went without a hitch. There were no late-night security checks...or if there had been, he'd missed them. No alarms sounded. The movable head of the great citadel did not even pivot toward him. Slithe emptied his bottle into the resevoire and returned it to his case, leaving the scene undetected and feeling somewhat unfulfilled. No sense worrying about it now, he consoled himself, there will be satisfaction enough in watching the Thundercats slowly wither from their own resources.

He chuckled softly as he disappeared into the night.

"Lion-o, have you seen the kittens?" asked Snarf, padding into the control room. "The Berbils just delivered a new shipment of fresh fruit and I need someone to help me peel the surplus for preserves."

"In that case," grinned the young lord, "I imagine they're in hiding. It almost makes me glad to be on watch this morning...boring as it is."

"Sna-a-arf," wailed the small animal in chagrin though his eyes shone with unaccustomed mischief. "I wasn't looking forward to doing it alone and there was berry pie and fresh lemonade in the bargain."

'Abracadabra' does not hold monopoly in the field of magic. From thin air appeared two sets of fiery eyes, peering cautiously through the door. "How much fruit?" inquired a high-pitched voice.

"Two baskets of apples to be peeled," replied the snarf. "But if you help chop up the four bushels of various Berbils fruits, I'll candy some of them for you."

Some temptations are simply too great to resist. Wilykit gave a little shriek of delight and raced to the kitchen, dragging her brother behind her. If it were not this chore, it would be another and this one came with rewards. Wilykat gave Lion-o a little shrug as he was towed past the entrance and the Lord of the Thundercats laughed. "I remember using similar tactics to get you to clean your room, snarf, snarf," said the red and yellow ball of fur.

"They'd still work, I'm sure," mused Lion-o thoughtfully. "Your lemonade is very tempting."

"I'll have Wilykit bring you a glass when it's ready," replied Snarf, ambling towards the door. "Wilykat's skill with a knife is greater than hers and any errand that will save a few fingers is worthwhile."

"I'll be looking forward to it," smiled Lion-o, turning his attention back to the scanners.

The atmosphere was less jovial over the evening meal. The kittens were listless and without appetite. Wilykit nibbled a slice of buttered bread, but her brother did not even manage that, preferring to sip at his goblet of water and poke at the meat on his plate with the tines of his fork.

"Yes, Wilykat, it's quite dead," observed Tygra. "Do you plan on eating it, or are you waiting for it to perform?"

"Bet he's got a bellyache," interrupted Wilykit with a giggle, ignoring her own untouched meal. "I didn't think I'd get any pie this afternoon."

"I'm just tired, Tygra," replied Wilykat without so much as a twitch in acknowledgement of his sister's half-hearted teasing. This in itself was strange enough for the tiger to place a hand on the kitten's brow. "Warm," he confirmed. "Cheetara?"

"Kit too," she agreed, reaching over to test the female twin.

"You should both be in bed then," decided Tygra. They stood without protest, a sure sign of illness, and filed past the tiger to the room they were still young enough to share.

"Huh, never thought I'd see an illness that could knock those two out," commented Panthro.

"Probably just some bug," shrugged Lion-o. "I think I've got a touch of it myself... I've been feeling a bit light-headed this evening."

"Careful it doesn't worsen," cautioned Tygra. "The last thing we need is for the entire Lair to fall sick."

"Oh, I'm sure a night's rest will do wonders," assured the young lord as he helped to gather the dishes.

The kittens were quiet and unresponsive when Snarf checked in on them the next morning. It was all he could do to wake them and present them with herbal teas and dry toast. Wilykit made an effort to swallow the bread, but soon gave up and opted instead for the hot liquid.

Wilykat clutched his mug of tea laced with lemon and sugar in silent desperation and nursed it slowly. When asked what troubled him, he shrugged and replied: "Just cold." Snarf put a hand to the boy's forehead and found it twice as warm as it had been the night before.

"Sleep is perhaps best then, snarf, snarf," said the nurse, noting each kitten's drooping lids. "Finish your drinks - they'll do you good - and then rest again." The twins nodded in unison and Snarf stayed just long enough to gather the mugs and pull the covers up around them before going in search of Lion-o.

He found his former charge in the kitchen, drinking the last of the tea. One hand gently massaged his temple. "I thought it might have been a virus and that the kittens were worse affected because they were still so young," he said as Snarf entered the room. "I feel worse for having slept...dizzy. I..." He winced and grunted with pain.

"Lion-o?" asked Snarf with an anxious purr. "Are you alright?"

"I...think it would be best if I went back to bed as well," gasped Lion-o. "Tygra wanted to speak to me after he'd done some research of his own. Tell him I'll be in my chamber, will you, Snarf?" It was more of a command than a request. Still, he waited for Snarf's acknowledgement before staggering from the room.

"Ooh, I don't like the looks of this," whined the small animal, shaking his head sadly.

"What do you think, Tygra?" asked Cheetara, placing a slim hand on the architects' shoulder. "They've never been ill like this before."

"No," he agreed. "And now that Lion-o is showing symptoms, it has me concerned. It is no virus that I'm aware of and the presence of fever can just as easily indicate another form of infection or even blood poisoning." He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "This work is making my head ache," he complained, downing a small vial of willow extract. "And yet I can't stop. We need to know what is causing this!"

"Lion-o waits for you in the kitchen," said Cheetara, sipping water from a tall glass. "He is more lucid than the twins and may be able to help you where they cannot. Especially if your poisoning theories are true."

"You're right, of course," replied the tiger. "I'll go immediately." He stood too quickly and staggered. "I just wish I could rid myself of this cursed headache!"

"Lion-o had the same problem this morning, snarf, snarf," purred the small animal with concern as he entered the lab. "He said he would be asleep in his chambers if you needed him, Tygra. He didn't look well at all, sna-arf."

Tygra cursed the disease once again. "It spreads like wildfire!" he exclaimed, but Cheetara, finding a nugget of important information in Snarf's report, quickly lay a hand on Tygra's forehead. He tried to pull away, but she was swifter. "A fever too," she confirmed, her deep, rich voice lending weariness to the words. "The sickness is indeed spreading. Or perhaps you are right...perhaps it is poison."

"Poison!?" mewled Snarf in surprise. "How?"

"You must think, Snarf," insisted Tygra, sitting down again, tired by the very thought of walking. "Was there anything that Lion-o, the kittens and I all ate or drank? Something you may have put aside so that it could have been tampered with?"

"I-I don't know, Tygra," moaned the little animal. Then he spied the empty mug on the Thundercat's worktable. "Tea!" he shouted excitedly. "You all had tea this morning!"

"The kittens have been sick since last night," Cheetara reminded him. "Even Lion-o felt the effects then."

"That eliminates dinner," sighed the ball of red and yellow fur. "The twins wouldn't touch it. In fact, the last time I saw them well and laughing was after they'd peeled and chopped my fruit and were enjoying pie and lemon... Lemonade! Lion-o and the kittens both drank it yesterday and I'd left it aside for quite a while."

"But I haven't had any," replied Tygra. "And it seems that I now share the fate of the others."

They sat and pondered the mystery. Cheetara lifted her glass for another sip, but her eyes widened in horror as it touched her lips and she cast it from her violently. It shattered against the far wall.

"Water!" she hissed. "We all drink water! And the tea and lemonade were both made from it!"

Tygra wore an expression of shock and surprise. "That is true! You, Panthro and I were away yesterday and did not drink the water of Cat's Lair until last night. Quickly, Cheetara! I'll need samples - from the kitchen and the aqueduct at least!" He turned to face her, but she had already vanished.

"Snarf," he said instead, "where is Panthro?"

"In the control room, snarf, snarf. It's his watch."

"Warn him," commanded the tiger. "Lion-o and the kittens too. We can't be certain it is the water, but it's better to be safe than sorrier. I only wish we knew the what as well as the where."

"There is one thing, Tygra," said Snarf. "I had lemonade yesterday and I'm not sick."

Tygra paused. Then he nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Snarf, I will consider this," he said before returning to his work.

Snarf next saw Tygra when he came to check on the kittens. The architect looked on the verge of collapse and his eyes burned with the steadily escalating fever whose flush was hidden by the tiger's orange fur. He sat on the edge of Wilykit's bed and placed two fingers against her throat to check her pulse. The little one whimpered in pain, rousing slightly from her sleep.

Her twin paid her no mind. Though he was awake enough to swallow the sips of pure fruit juice that Snarf forced past his lips, Wilykat was not presently aware of his surroundings. He only knew that he should swallow and that he was very cold. He clung blindly to Snarf even as his sister turned toward the source of the heat that was Tygra.

"They're fading so quickly," sighed the tiger. "Lion-o is stronger and somewhat better off, but he too is worsening. As for myself...I'm too weary to finish analyzing my samples. I feel as though my very clothing was dusted with Thundranium."

"Could it be Thundranium poisoning the water?" asked Snarf in alarm.

"Hardly," snorted the other. "Such a thing is beyond science."

"But is it beyond magic?"

Tygra squeezed his eyes shut against the sight of the kittens and pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the pain behind his eyes. "I would not doubt that Mumm-ra should try such a trick, but I will not accept that he should succeed!" he growled. "I have no dominion over magic and refuse to believe that I am as helpless as that to stop this wasting away!"

"But you should look into it anyway, snarf, snarf."

The architect glanced at the sleeping kitten pressed so desperately against him. "Yes, Snarf," he agreed quietly, "I will look."

Cheetara drummed an absentminded tattoo on the side of her seat as the Thundertank sped across the landscape. The worst of the worst had been confirmed. Through some form of sorcery, Thundranium had been odorlessly, colourlessly dissolved into the drinking water of Cat's Lair. How it had been done was easy...a lack of defences. Why it had been done was obvious...enemy action. Both were irrelevant. What they needed to know was: What were they going to do about it?

Tygra had borne a look of shellshock; he was wearier than ever and he knew nothing of magic. It was she who had suggested that they contact the unicorn keepers who, though no magic users themselves, were trustworthy and would be able to point them in the right direction.

It was decided that she and Panthro would go. Tygra was weakening visibly and they were the only two left in the Lair with strength enough to make the journey. Though they'd both drunk of the tainted water, Tygra guessed that they had remarkable constitutions - Panthro because of his size and strength, and Cheetara because it was needed to maintain her top speed - that would ward off the illness for a time. Snarf's immunity was due to the difference of species and for this she was glad. One could not say how long their fortune would last and she and Panthro needed to watch each other for signs of sickness.

This was especially true since the unicorn keepers had been of little help. They had been advised to seek out the "Mistress of Life and Death" who was said to live in a cavern by the sea. There was an herb, it was rumoured, that could remove all forms of poison and blood taint, but only if correctly spelled by this "Mistress". Cheetara sighed. It could take hours to find her and Tygra had already been on the verge of collapse when she and Panthro had left him in Snarf's hands.

She watched the scenery whip by her in a blur of greens, yellows, and browns. Lion-o had been too weak to stand.

She closed her eyes against the sight. They had not even been able to rouse the kittens.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt a headache coming on.

The cauldron bubbled then, obscuring the vision. But Mumm-ra had seen quite enough for his purposes. So, he thought, the cats think they have found a way out of their troubles. Little do they know that this Mistress of Life and Death is but a myth. "Still," he finished out loud with a chuckle, "I would hate to disappoint them."

The mage drew himself up and lifted his arms in a gesture of supplication. "ANCIENT SPIRITS OF EVIL," he intoned, "TRANSFORM MUMM-RA INTO THE MISTRESS OF LIFE AND DEATH!" He threw his arms out to receive the the full force of the power which flowed into his body and clenched his jaw against the twisting and wrenching that always accompanied a transformation. A howling wind seemed to sweep through the otherwise lifeless chamber and there was a blinding flash of light. When all was still once again, the figure of Mumm-ra had vanished and in its place stood a woman of preternatural beauty - lovely in the way a corpse is lovely when it has been laid out for its final farewells. A cascade of shrill laughter issued forth from ruby lips, breaking the silence of the tomb.

"I know not how a Mistress of Life and Death should appear," he/she said to no one in particular, admiring the almost plastic perfection of one lily white arm "but this will do quite nicely. Now...to wait." He/she sidestepped then, vanishing in a shimmer of displaced air.

"What do you mean 'wait?'" whined Jackalman. Slithe had only recently given up the secret of his mission to Cat's Lair and the other Mutants were outraged at not having had a part in the Thundercats' destruction. "If the 'Cats are so weak and helpless, what harm can it do to hurry their condition along?"

"Why bother?" asked Slithe glumly. "The 'Cats-s-s will be gone s-s-soon enough. Be thankful for what little hand we've played in their ex-s-stinction."

"What little hand YOU'VE played, hoo," muttered Monkian.

"What did you s-s-say?" hissed the reptilian.

"Nothing, Slithe."

"Rawrk! And what if some of them did not drink the water?" cawed Vultureman. "They would surely notice if their companions got sick and might even now be looking for a cure."

The Mutant leader seemed to brighten at this suggestion. Noticing this, Jackalman picked up the thread. "Vultureman's right, Slithe. They would look for a cure..."

"And that can't be allowed to happen, yes-s-s?" finished Slithe, an evil gleam in his eye. "Vultureman, ready your flying machine. You will distract the defences-s-s of the Cat's Lair while the rest of us follow in the S-s-skycutters and Noz-sdiver."

The reptilian basked in a flurry of organized chaos as the Mutants prepared to attack.This is more like it, he thought to himself. The 'Cats SHOULD perish by our hands. And, satisfied, he ordered his team to move out.

Lion-o was roused by an ominous, metallic growling. Though aware of the sheets around him, sweat-soaked despite the chills he felt, he could not open his eyes. He drifted instead in a many-layered mire of blackness where all senses functioned, but his body would not respond. It took a sharper cry to make him break the surface of sleep.

"Lion-o! Lion-o, get up! Someone's in trouble, snarf, snarf!"

"G-way, Shnerf," replied to young lord, through a mouthful of pillow. Rays of light filtered through cracks in his window shutters and burned his eyes painfully. "Can e'en sit. Dwanna geddup."

But the cry came again, insistently, and garbled as though spoken through a mouthful of marbles. Lion-o made the effort to raise his head a little and scan this widened field of vision. Snarf was trying to climb onto the foot of the bed, the Sword of Omens clamped tightly between his teeth. The red-gem eye in its hilt pulsed and glowed, emitting the strange growl which had caused him to waken.

Friends in trouble! A surge of adrenaline allowed Lion-o to hoist himself into a semi-sitting position and snatch the weapon from Snarf who then scampered up on the blankets and sat at the young lord's feet. "Sword of Omens, give me Sight Beyond Sight!" he intoned and gazed through the hilt's apertures.

He saw Mumm-ra disguise himself in a tall feminine form - white of skin and red of hair - and leave his pyramid in search of Panthro and Cheetara. He then saw the mutants approaching the Lair... No! Already here! Even as the vision of Vultureman's flying machine ducked and dodged the lasers of the Lair's defence system, Lion-o heard the guns going off, the great head of the citadel turning to catch its enemy in its deadly glare.

Lion-o bit back a curse. He had no way of warning Cheetara and Panthro-even if he could get to the control room in his present state, the continual laser fire would cause too much interference to send much more than a garbled message over their communicators. Ah well, they were grown warriors and could care for themselves. Besides, the choice they would make after what he was about to do might actually save them the trouble of battling the undead wizard.

"Th-thunder," whispered the young lord hoarsely. "Thunder...Thunder...Thundercats, HO!"

The backlash of power made him cry out in pain. The concentrated energy of the blade burst through the gem in the hilt and raced through the empty corridors of the Lair, spilling out of every opening and reassembling above it - a towering beacon sending out its call to a select few.

There are those who think that a Thundercat is bound by no more than loyalty - when the signal calls them, they come running out of care for their teammates. This is true, but there is more. When a Thundercat enters the service of their king, the Sword of Omens is attuned to them so that their comrades in arms may know when they are in trouble and, by the same token, they are bound to the Sword. The blood-in-danger calls to the mystical weapon, demanding protection and the Eye, in turn, calls to its own, forcing the Thundercats to action.

Thus it was that Tygra, weakened beyond physical mobility, was able to pull himself to his feet and don his uniform, slipping his bolo whip into place at his side. The cry pierced through the twins' deep slumber, burning its way through flesh and blood and bone which already screamed in outrage at the poison they had consumed. Wilykat stumbled from his bed and pulled a brown tunic over his head before turning to help his sister's trembling hands to buckle her belt. Lariats at their sides, they regretted the fact that they had not replenished their bag of tricks sooner. They would have to make do with what powders and pellets they had.

"Hey! You kids should stay in bed, snarf, snarf!" protested the small animal as he entered the chamber. The twins glanced at him and shook their heads slowly. Snarf opened his mouth to protest, but they curtailed his argument with one of their own.

"Panthro and Cheetara aren't here," murmured Wilykit, "and..."

"Tygra and Lion-o are just as sick as we are," finished her brother. "Besides..."

"We're Thundercats too," they sighed together, their unending litany. Today, so quiet and solemn, Snarf was inclined to believe that they were as mature as they claimed to be.

"Mrrr...alright," he agreed, "but I don't like this one bit." Then the trio joined Lion-o and Tygra in the hallway.

"Secure the Lair...if they haven't already breached our defences," ordered the young lord wearily upon their arrival. "And then prepare for battle. We have a long day ahead of us."

"Do you think we'll find her in one of these caves?" murmured Panthro softly, knowing that Cheetara's head pounded as sharply as his own.

"We can only hope," replied Cheetara, shivering slightly as she stepped from the Thundertank. She tried to convince herself that she had contracted the chill in the last damp cavern they'd investigated. Unfortunately, she knew better. "If she isn't, we may have to call off the search. I-I don't think I could continue." She hung her head, shamed by the thought of her failure.

"Do you need a few moments to rest?"

Cheetara noted that Panthro was as weary as herself. Accepting his offered would not be a sign of weakness. Still... "No, Panthro," she said, shaking her head sadly. "Time is our enemy. Waiting can only drain us fur..." She stiffened with a cry of pain.

"What is it?" the panther demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What do you sense?"

"Something...wrong," gasped the cheetah. There was a flickering on the horizon and Panthro felt the pull as the Thundercat symbol briefly flashed across the clouds in the direction of Cat's Lair.

"We have to go back!" cried Cheetara. "They can't possibly defend themselves!"

"No!" replied Panthro. "The Lair can be sealed with a minimum of effort. If we go back now, not only will we be as physically useless as they are, but we'll have no cure for them. We'll ALL die! No," reasoned the warrior more carefully, " we can best serve them by finding this Mistress. Besides," he smiled wanly, "the Sword's call is almost invigorating."

"I DO feel a little better," admitted Cheetara. "Everything still aches, but I have more energy."

"It'll be the same for the rest of them," Panthro assured her. "Maybe more so since they're closer to the Sword."

Cheetara gave a curt nod. "It's decided then. We will seek out the Mistress of Life and Death."

They searched for some time and had nearly given up when Cheetara literally stumbled into the hidden chamber. She'd had no real hopes for the little cave she'd been examining, but while investigating a shadowy corner, she'd tripped on a rock and fallen through a narrow crevasse. What lay beyond it made her gasp.

The inner chamber was lit by a multitude of candles in clever holders, designed to prevent tipping and catch melted wax for reuse. Bunches and bunches of herbs hung from the vaulted ceiling, some of which Cheetara recognized, but most of which she did not. Pots and jars containing raw elements and prepared compounds littered the chamber. A work table at the rear displayed a variety of knives, spoons for measuring or heating, mortars and pestles of various sizes and materials and a number of unfamiliar implements that gleamed in the soft light. They appeared to be of a surgical nature.

"Panthro," she called softly, hearing him scuffling about in the outer cavern, "I'm in here."

She passed through an almost spartan sleep area which consisted of a stone slab and straw mattress topped by warm blankets, a large, brass-bound chest and a number of book shelves. Beyond this lay a cavern so dark that - if not for her excellent night vision - she may have stepped off the sheer cliff which marked the end of the cave floor. The drop ended nearly fifty feet below in a pool of water. Even to the cheetah's eyes the pool was dark and, therefore, deep. She shuddered at the thought of falling.

"Is it I you seek?"

The voice was feminine, yet deep and as smooth as satin...quite unlike Cheetara's own husky speech. The startled Thundercat turned toward the source of the sound and was amazed to see a woman magically ascend from the cliff face on her right. The woman was tall - a full head taller than Cheetara herself - and white as a lily. She wore a shift of red and gold and her crimson locks were braided and bound upon her head as a support for the large porcelain jug which she balanced with one slim hand. "Do not be alarmed," she smiled gently indicating the drop-off behind her, "there is a narrow stairway here."

"Are you the Mistress of Life and Death?" Cheetara heard Panthro demand as he stepped up behind her.

The woman did not answer, but inclined her head in a brief nod and smiled a dazzling smile through painted lips. Cheetara shuddered when she saw that the expression did not reach the Mistress' eyes which glittered the colour of rubies, but she brushed the feeling aside. "We need..." she began.

"I know why you have come," replied the other with sympathy. "Your friends are terribly ill." Here she shook her head sadly. "And soon you will join them," she continued. "But none of that now. Step into my work room and I shall put an end to your pain."

She bustled them back into the first chamber and placed her ewer on the floor. "The cure I will make will be mystical in nature," she breathed. "You must not speak or look upon me during its preparation. Turn away toward the door," she commanded, indicating the narrow fissure through which the Thundercats had stumbled. Knowing nothing of magic, they obliged her.

Several minutes had passed. The minutes stretched into what seemed like hours. Panthro shifted nervously and glanced at Cheetara who was as fidgety as himself. He dared not speak to her, but he thought she might share his suspicions regarding the mysterious woman. The Mistress was taking an inordinate amount of time for an herbal preparation. Still, the thought of his friends in the grip of the sickness that he could - even now - feel as it invaded his own body was powerful enough to keep him from looking back over his shoulder. Jaga help them if he and Cheetara had stumbled into a trap! He was far too weak to battle an enemy!

Oddly enough, it was Cheetara who broke the silence. Suddenly sitting bolt-upright, she gasped: "Panthro! She is not what she seems!"

"Quite right, Swift One," shrieked the Mistress in a parody of laughter. Cheetara gave a shout of surprise as a tentacle-thing wrapped itself about her. Panthro had time enough to twist around and face the creature before he too was ensnared.

The woman had become a monster, a Naga-like thing with a serpentine body of red and gold scales. Where her arms had been were now two seething masses of tentacles, one of which drew Cheetara closer and closer toward a wide, fanged mouth dripping venom. The cheetah struggled, but weakly. The effects of the Thundranium poison were finally catching up with her.

Panthro strained against the constricting appendage, struggling to get free before Cheetara could become an entree. It was no use. Perhaps, if he had been at full strength...

No, he told himself, you don't give up. So you don't have your strength, so what? Even the kittens have one obvious weapon . He looked down at the tentacle encircling his arms and lower chest, following it up with one appraising eye to where it connected with the body of the beast who, convinced of his helplessness, was ignoring him. He grimaced in distaste and lunged, biting into the soft, fleshy limb.

The thing screamed in pain, releasing its hold on the two Thundercats. Panthro was grateful for the swift reaction and scrambled away as quickly as possible, spitting scraps of unarmoured flesh as he went. The thing had tasted like spoiled meat.

The Mistress shrieked in rage and agony. "YOU WRETCHED BEAST!" it cried. "YOU MISERABLE CATS!" She began to contort and change, flesh crawling and shifting. "You will RUE the day you came to this world," she hissed coldly, only now her voice was deeper, rasping and dead, "and curse yourselves for ever thinking that you could defeat Mumm-ra!"

The shape coalesced into a figure easily ten feet tall. Cheetara attempted a sneak attack using the concussive power of her energy staff, but she was drained and her speed was not enough. The warrior Mumm-ra turned quickly and dealt her a magical blow which hurled her against the wall of the cavern. Her body made a dull thud as it struck the unyielding stone and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

With one nuisance out of the way, the mage was free to give Panthro his full attention. The panther drew his nun-chuks and took a defensive pose. "You want a piece of me," he announced, "you can come and get it."

"That," grinned his opponent, cracked lips pulling back over razor teeth, "is my intention." And, with that, he fired a blast of ethereal energy at the ailing Thundercat.

Panthro dodged the blast and feigned an attack, ducking and rolling closer to Mumm-ra when the mage launched a second energy ball at the place he should have been. Using one of the secret compartments in his specialized weapon, he converted the tip of one cat-clawed stick to an atomizer which released the pressurized liquid in the handle as a fine spray. Once touched by oxygen, that spray became mist, and finally smoke...a shield for the Thundercat's approach.

And approach he did, striking Mumm-ra first with his weapon, and then with his fist. But the mage was hardly phased. Panthro, like Cheetara, had simply come too far in his illness to be an effective fighter - a weakness that the undead priest took advantage of, striking the Thundercat with a mighty blow and binding him with magical chains. "Something special for you," cackled Mumm-ra with a sweeping gesture and a brief incantation.

At his words, the dissipating smoke gathered itself once again above Panthro's head and fought its way into his lungs through his nose and his mouth. It was so thick that the Thundercat could not even cough, much less cry out. He struggled as long as he could, but eventually collapsed from a lack of oxygen. The smoke then vanished and Mumm-ra smiled. "Don't worry, you'll live," he grinned evilly. "I wouldn't want your death to be too swift. You will wake so that I may watch the Thundranium eat you alive." Then he turned to collect Cheetara.

She had vanished.

She couldn't have escaped to the outside, he thought to himself, that wretch, Panthro stood before the entrance. He listened carefully and heard soft footsteps, nearly inaudible, running back into the cave. He grinned again, passing through the barren workroom - the living space had been nothing but illusion, after all - and sleeping quarters to the darkened cavern at the end. He knew, even if she did not, that Cheetara would not escape. The spring had an opening to the outside, but it was so deep and the underwater tunnel so long that no living thing could swim it and live.

He called upon a mage light to illuminate the interior and saw, to his surprise, that Cheetara was nowhere near the tiny staircase. Instead she was precariously perched on the edge of the cliff. Mumm-ra smiled his amusement. "You'll never survive the fall, even if you could swim away."

"Stay back," warned Cheetara, ignoring his words. She wobbled unsteadily from the blow she had taken. "I'll jump, I swear I will, and that will be one less source of power for you."

"My dear," mocked the undead warrior, "I have survived quite well without your life energy until now and I will continue to do so. Seeing your friends slowly waste away from Thundranium poisoning will be entertaining enough. Useful too - there is much power in suffering. If you wish to jump..."

Cheetara glared at him defiantly and stepped off the edge.

Lion-o ran an arm across his brow to clear the sweat from his eyes. They had not been fast enough. Not enough! The illness burned within him and the surge of energy given to him by the Sword - which he clutched with both hands in an attempt to ward off the reptilian Mutant - had dimmed. It was still there - he would have dropped from exhaustion halfway to the control room if it weren't - but it was a dull throbbing, barely keeping him on his feet. Not enough to battle the four Mutants who had invaded the control centre through the head of the citadel though. Not enough.

He looked to his right. Snarf spat and snarled at his side, hunched up and ready to pounce if his lord demanded it, yet frightened too. He was a cook and general housekeeper in spirit, not a warrior. Beyond Snarf stood Tygra, swaying slightly in his defensive pose. He had pulled his whip back for the first slash and frozen in place, eyes tracking the Mutants' every move.

Lion-o looked to his left. There was no telling what items the twins' small hands were concealing. In the left, each held a lariat at the ready. In the right, each held a mysterious and potentially devastating substance. No longer carefree, their faces were masks of watchful concentration. They trembled in their stance. Younger and weaker than Lion-o or Tygra, the first victims of the tainted aqueduct, they nevertheless held their ground and the lord of the Thundercats felt a wave of admiration for the adults they would become.

"Well, boy," hissed Slithe, "enjoy our little gift, yess?"

"Really, you shouldn't have," replied Lion-o stone-faced. He'd discovered long ago that humour in the face of death tended to put the Mutants off-balance. They preferred to find their victims cowering in fear.

As predicted, the response angered the Mutant leader. "Attack!" he shouted and the Mutants complied. Jackalman and Monkian collectively took on the kittens and their fiery defender, Snarf. Vultureman rushed Tygra and Slithe assaulted Lion-o.

The battle was fierce, but brief. Wilykit took the first hit. She had enveloped Jackalman in a cloud of sneezing powder as he rushed her brother before being dealt a left-handed blow by Monkian which sent her sprawling to the ground. It would have been worse for her, but Snarf was biting desperately into the simian's weapon hand, preventing the use of the spiked mace. The furry animal released his hold when he saw a furious Wilykat reach into a side pocket. The concussion pellet detonated on the back of Monkian's head, knocking him out. "Sna-arf, that won't hold him for long," wailed Snarf. "Monkian has a very thick skull."

Jackalman, still sneezing, had been effectively bound by the male kitten, but even this would not last. Because of his diminishing strength, Wilykat had been unable to tighten the rope as much as he desired and Jackalman could be surprisingly strong. Still, it would do for now and the kitten scrambled to his sister's side. "Kit?" he asked quietly.

She was breathing. Alive. But she'd stayed on her feet by strength of will alone and Wilykat knew that, now that she was down, nothing could induce her to stand again. He looked guiltily toward Lion-o and Tygra and fearfully back toward Jackalman who had begun to work his bonds. Monkian too showed signs of stirring.

"Are you strong enough to carry her, snarf, snarf?"

Wilykat gave a strangled whimper.

"Okay, that's a no," acknowledged Snarf. "Lion-o!" he shouted.

Lion-o spared a moment in his fight to glance toward Snarf and the two kittens. He noticed Wilykit laying still on the ground and the two Mutants who would soon rejoin the fray. Luckily, the twins were close to the door. He turned back to his opponent.

He was fighting with more fury than ever before, but was amazed to find that the reptilian was actually beating him back! He'd taken several blows from Slithe's cursed tail and was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. One kitten was down...the other surely exhausted. He chanced a look in Tygra's direction.

The striped Thundercat too was failing. Vultureman fought with a strange gun that seemed to deaden the portion of anatomy which it struck. Even ill, Tygra was quick enough to dodge most of the blows, but he'd taken one direct hit. His right arm hung, limp and useless, as he battled the vulture with his left. Luckily, he was left-handed and managed to grasp the end of the gun barrel with his whip. The weapon was yanked from the Mutant's grasp and sent sailing across the chamber.

Vultureman merely whipped out a small, high-energy pistol and cackled. Lion-o decided.

"BACK!" he shouted. Tygra glanced at him as he dodged an energy beam and leapt back toward the doorway, near to the kittens. "THUNDERCATS, HO!" he shouted again and a brilliant flash of light erupted from the sword.

The Mutants were temporarily blinded and the pause was enough for Lion-o to turn tail and, scooping up Wilykit as he ran past, bolt through the open door. Tygra followed close behind, dragging Wilykat by one arm, Snarf on his heels. He hit the command and the door slid shut behind him.

"HO!"

A white-hot beam flowed from the tip of the Sword of Omens, effectively welding the door shut. "That will slow them down, but what now?" Lion-o asked Tygra when the job was done.

"We can't fight them," replied the tiger. We can only hope for Panthro and Cheetara's return and try to find a safe place until then.

"The lord of the Thundercats can't hide like...like a Mutant!" exclaimed Lion-o. "This is OUR home. It's my responsibility to defend it."

"It's your responsibility to defend your people," amended Tygra, indicating Wilykit.

Lion-o looked down at the tiny - tiny to him at any rate - kitten that he'd held under one arm like a sack of grain while he'd sealed the door. He reddened a bit and sheathed the sword, changing Wilykit's position until she was cradled in his arms. She moaned softly. "Right," he swallowed. "So where to we hide?"

"The Sword chamber."

Cheetara plunged over the side of the cliff.

Mumm-ra was startled by her daring, but grinned smugly. His taunt about using her teammates' suffering as a source of power had been an attempt at riling her. He had hoped she would attack, allowing him to capture and use her as well. Ah well, no big loss. He had power enough and the small taste of it that would be provided by the rest of the Thundercats was but the icing on the cake of their demise. He'd have taken her energy, but what he wanted was her destruction and that she had provided. She'd made no sound in her descent. A brave cat, he admitted to himself, in her own way.

Then Mumm-ra's grin faded to a frown. She should have hit bottom by now. There should have been a splash...or at least a thud should she have managed to hit the narrow ledge that ran around the base of the cliff. But there was only silence.

Mumm-ra moved to the top of the stairs and shone a narrow beacon of mage light along the steep walkway. No one. He walked the edge of the cliff, illuminating the base of the drop-off. Nothing. He extinguished the light and stepped off the edge, hovering magically and lowered himself down to the surface of the water. He scanned the ledge. No body. He leaned forward and examined the pool, searching for a humanoid shadow floating beneath the surface...

The chamber was lit by a brilliant white light and Mumm-ra found himself staring into the still, reflective surface of the pool.

"You did not find the alcove, did you?" a gentle voice asked sweetly. Too sweetly. Mumm-ra did not respond. His eyes were fixed on the image on the surface.

It is said that Mumm-ra fears his own reflection. This is true. But it has little or nothing to do with seeing the horror of what he has become for if mortals can look upon him and keep their sanity, what terror is it for the immortal who consorts with demons? There are but two truths. The first is: with power there is a price. The second is: there are only two certainties...death and taxes. Mumm-ra's tithe is paid in blood and spirit and soul. His death...

No one lives forever. Mumm-ra's horror is not the price he pays for eternal life. It's the nagging feeling that he hasn't gotten his money's worth.

He stared in horror at the reflection-behind-the-reflection. It was one that all of his people once knew. Its face was black, its ears sharply pricked and, above all, its long muzzle was able to sniff out the dead wherever they tried to hide. Shock broke the mage's concentration and the spell which gave him his warrior's form began to falter. He looked away from the surface in an effort to call the energy back into himself and was horrified to find himself face to snout with the figure from the pool...the image of his nightmares come to life. Startled and unable to keep his form of power, Mumm-ra gave an unholy screech and vanished.

The dark female form bent to appraise her appearance in the pool's reflective surface. "Hmph," she muttered, preening. "I don't look THAT bad."

Cheetara's eyelids fluttered and she winced at the glow of a lantern, squeezing them shut once again. She waited a few moments and tried once more, blinking against the light. Where am I? she thought, disoriented. She remembered dropping off the cliff and catching her staff on two small outcroppings of stone. The mystical weapon had held under the strain and she had survived. It had been a longshot, but a successful one.

It had been her intention to lie in wait until Mumm-ra came to investigate her disappearance and then take him by surprise - perhaps even have him catch sight of his reflection in the water. Had she succeeded? She could not recall any fight; her last thought had been of the alcove which she had decided was the perfect hiding place.

She also remembered the bare rooms she had crossed to get to the cliff. Despair crept into her heart. They were all illusions, she thought dully, tears filling her eyes and threatening to spill down her cheeks. We have failed.

"No tears," said a soft voice, "your friend is well."

Startled, Cheetara turned to find a beautiful black-furred woman in a green shift. Her face was that of a black dog with delicately pointed ears - the tips decked with tiny emerald studs - and a long, thin muzzle. Her hair too was dark, bound in a multitude of tiny braids, each tipped with a green glass bead. A Caninian! gasped Cheetara mentally, suddenly aware that she had been lying on straw mattress instead of cold, bare rock. She was also becoming acutely aware of the increasing pressure of her bladder.

"He should awaken very soon," the Caninian woman said, kneeling beside Panthro and checking his vital signs. "Someone did you a grave disservice in giving you firerock compound. It was difficult to manufacture the purgative. I did not know if you would ever waken." She took note of Cheetara's discomfort. "But I see that the cure is working as it should," she chuckled. "Outside this door and to the right. If you walk a bit, you will find the alcove that I use."

When she returned, Panthro had awakened and eagerly traded places with her. "T-the fever," Cheetara stammered after the warrior had left," a-and the pain... They're almost gone!" She stared at the Caninian. "Are YOU the Mistress of Life and Death?"

The woman grinned. "Is THAT what they call me now? I am a simple herb healer who enjoys her solitude. It gives me time to study the growing things and learn their properties. My true name is Akiev. You collapsed in front of my home while I was gathering water...a novel escape, I might add...so I frightened away the nuisance that pursued you and brought you here. When I determined your ailment, I fetched Panthro and administered a blood purifier..."

"How did you know he was here and that his name is Panthro," gaped the cheetah.

"You called out to him, just as he called out to you, Cheetara," replied Akiev.

"But you're so tiny compared to him! How did you get him down? Much less frighten off Mumm-ra!"

"Please," demurred Akiev, "a woman must keep some secrets." She handed Cheetara a large, stoppered bottle. "You also called for the rest of your friends. This will do for them what it has done for you. Go to them quickly, you've been here nearly two hours!"

"HOURS?!?" shouted Panthro reentering the chamber. "We've been here for HOURS?"

"Please," glared Akiev. "I am giving you what you seek. Do have some courtesy! Now," she said to the Thundercats, indicating the bottle, "here is what you must do..."

The door to the sword chamber was beginning to overheat from the force of the lasers. The walls of Cat's Lair were sound and it had taken a good hour for the Mutants to break out of the control room. Another hour saw them searching relentlessly for their quarry. Now they endeavoured to melt down the door - twice as thick as any other - of the Sword chamber. They'd been at it for a solid two hours.

Inside, Lion-o pressed his ear to the warmed portal and listened for signs of activity. He could hear the hiss of melting metal as the laser ate through the alloy. We should have left the Lair entirely, he thought, but knew that they'd have never made it. They were far too weak to run.

The doors to the chamber were sealed from the inside. Only the Sword of Omens had the power to melt their metal like butter. The vents too were welded to their frames. The Thundercats were trapped like rats, but it was still the safest place in the Lair, despite the Mutants' approach. And even if their enemies did break through their meagre defences...what would it matter? They would not survive another night.

He glanced back to the far side of the room where Tygra sat with his back against the wall, a kitten huddled in the crook of each arm. Wilykit had not entirely awakened, but she had stirred sufficiently to give the tiger a brief slur of monosyllabic answers as to her condition before falling back into a deep slumber. Wilykat had fussed over her until his own exhaustion overcame his fretfulness. Even Tygra seemed to be asleep, his chin resting on his chest. The only thing which belied the peacefulness of the scene was the way the architect would periodically wake and check the vital signs of each child. It was his belief that the Thundranium would force the shut-down of all non-essential body functions - resulting in a near comatose state - before attacking the respiratory and circulatory systems. Lion-o thought of the two still forms and shuddered.

Snarf stayed close to his former charge and did some monitoring of his own. Besides sharing the symptoms of his teammates, Lion-o was despondent. "What will we do, Snarf, if the Mutants break through?" the young lord asked sadly.

"Even if they do, they'll only be able to come through one at a time," replied the snarf. "You'll be able to fight them off, snarf, snarf!"

"I can't fight," moaned Lion-o. "Probably can't even stand!"

"Mrr. Don't worry, Lion-o," said Snarf in an effort to comfort the lion. "Ol' Snarf can hold off any number of Mutants! You'll see!" he boasted, fur bristling to make himself look bigger. It only succeeded in making him look fluffy. Lion-o smiled wanly.

"Thanks, Snarf, but I think the situation is pretty much hopeless. I don't know what else to do."

"You will do," came a voice from thin air, "exactly what you have promised to do. You will defend your people!"

"Jaga?" asked Lion-o, staring at the image that formed before him. Startled, Snarf looked around, but saw no one. Such was always the case. "I can't, Jaga. I'm too weak, all of my muscles ache and the chills are worse than ever. I'll never be able to take on the Mutants...not even one at a time!"

"You will not even try?" Jaga's voice was heavy with disappointment.

"Look at them!" whispered Lion-o in resignation, indicating the huddled masse on the other end of the room. "I could not bear to fail them..."

"And I suppose that giving up and leaving them at the mercy of Slithe and his evil band would count as a rousing success," the apparition stated reproachfully and with a hint of sarcasm.

"Well..."

"It is not your success that they will remember," said Jaga firmly. "Nor will they hold your failures against you. What will stay with them, comfort them, is the knowledge that their lord will fight to the very last in their defence."

"Y-you're right, Jaga," muttered Lion-o, looking away in shame. "As always. I just wish..." But when he looked up, the vision was gone and Snarf was looking at him expectantly. "Well?" he asked. "What are we going to do, snarf, snarf? The Mutants are almost through!"

"We're going to fight," said Lion-o calmly. He struggled to his feet and stood to one side of the small patch of door that was beginning to glow red from the heat of the lasers.

A tiny hole was formed and light poured through it as it widened and widened until it was the size of a dinner plate. "There's-s-s no es-scape now, cub," hissed Slithe from the other side.

"You'll never take us alive, Mutant!" snarled Lion-o in return.

"That would s-suit us-s just fine," grinned the reptilian, firing a laser beam through the hole. Lion-o dodged to one side and looked back toward his friends. He was gratified to find that Tygra had used the interlude to move the kittens - half carrying, half dragging them - to a corner less accessible to a gun and put the meagre protection of the Sword's pedestal in front of them. "How's the arm?" he asked.

"Better," grunted Tygra. "But still numb."

"Thank Jaga for that much. You'll have to cover me. If I fall...WOAH!" shouted Lion-o, barely dodging a second blast. Slithe had slipped the barrel of his energy rifle through the hole to get a better angle.

"HO-O-O!" cried the lord of the Thundercats, slicing neatly through the metal with the energized Sword of Omens. There was a muffled curse and the Mutants drew back as Slithe shouted at Vultureman to widen the hole.

"That's showen'em, snarf, snarf!"

"Snarf," commanded Lion-o wearily, "go back and guard the kittens."

"Mrr, I'm NOT leaving you here alone," the snarf said defiantly. "You're sick!"

"I have Tygra," insisted the young lord. "With any luck, we can hold them off until Panthro and Cheetara return."

"What if they don't return?" challenged the snarf.

"Then Wilykit and Wilykat won't be helplessly slaughtered if we don't drive the Mutants off!" snapped Lion-o angrily. Then he saddened. "And they won't be alone when...it...happens...if we do. Go to them, Snarf.That's an order." He turned back to the fight.

The hole was nearly wide enough to admit Slithe, but the burning had stopped. Vultureman handed the heat ray to Monkian as the reptilian ordered him and Jackalman through the opening once the sides had cooled. Jackalman came through first. Slimmer than the other Mutants, he made it through quite easily and he was obviously overjoyed by the energy pistol he had been allowed to carry. "Nyah-ha-ha, try THIS, Thundercat!" he cried and fired directly at Lion-o. The lord of the Thundercats raised his sword and deflected the bolt. Jackalman yelped as it narrowly missed his head.

"You fool!" squawked Vultureman. "Let me in!" And he gave his fellow Mutant a kick from behind.

Jackalman broke through the defences quite by accident. As the kick knocked him forward, his pistol went off at an angle, causing Lion-o to dodge aside. He tumbled past the lord and came to rest at Tygra's feet. "Well, well," grinned the architect. "What do we have here?" He raised his whip. Jackalman whimpered.

But as each Thundercat engaged their opponent, it became obvious that, despite their bravado, they were in no condition to fight. In the background, the laser could be heard eating away at the door once again. If they could not defend themselves against the two physically weaker Mutants, what could they do against the strongest?

A random blast from Jackalman's pistol struck Tygra. Luckily, it was a concussion calibre weapon and not one of damage calibre. Tygra was unmarked, but the force of the blow knocked the already weakened Thundercat out and sent him sprawling to the floor.

"HO!" cried Lion-o, pointing the Sword of Omens at Vultureman who was readying his energy rifle for a shot. The Sword's beam fused the barrel shut and the weapon backfired, stunning the Mutant. Lion-o then turned his attention to the jackal who - discovering that his weapon's beam was not enough to destroy a Thundercat - was preparing to club Tygra over the head with the gun's handle. As Lion-o attacked Jackalman, Vultureman recovered his senses and moved toward the young lord, determined to fight with his hands if need be.

"Oh, no you don't, snarf, snarf!"

Disobeying Lion-o's orders, a red and yellow ball of fur jumped out from behind the pedestal and latched itself firmly to Vultureman's leg. The Mutant shouted in surprise and Snarf sank his teeth into the vulture's calf.

"Geddit off! Geddit off! Caw-awrk!" shrieked Vultureman, trying to kick the creature off his leg while hopping about ridiculously. "Miserable creature!" Snarf disengaged, but not before using his prehensile tail to pull the Mutant's other leg out from under him. Vultureman hit the floor with a thud and the snarf promptly sat on his opponent's chest. "You Mutants need to learn some manners," he purred.

"You're done for now, yes-s-s?" said Slithe as he and Monkian stepped through the hole. Everything seemed to come to a stop. Jackalman backed away from Lion-o, knowing that the reptilian would want to finish off the young lord himself. Besides, he was getting pummelled despite Lion-o's exhaustion.

Lion-o's face fell. He had hoped that a few minutes remained before the Mutants could blast through. He supposed that it didn't really matter.

Slithe took note of everyone in the room, including the partially hidden kittens. "Where are the others-s-s?" he asked. "The panther and the cheetah?"

"Right behind you, Slithe," replied Panthro.

The reptilian whirled around in time to see a close-up of Panthro's fist and feel his energy rifle lifted from his hands. Cheetara disarmed Monkian in a similar manner, using her superior speed. "Normally we'd enjoy beating the tar out of you Mutants, but we've got some important business to attend to," grinned Panthro nastily. "Be glad you're leaving with your lives."

The Mutants saw the determined look in their eyes and knew that these two did not suffer from the sickness as their teammates did. Cheetara, they reasoned could blast them all and still have time to do her nails while Panthro tore apart any survivors with his bare hands. "Back to Castle Plun-darr," muttered Slithe, filing past the Thunderian guards. The rest of the Mutants followed close behind. "You will never s-save your friends-s-s," he hissed on his way out. "Mumm-ra s-said there was-s-s no cure."

"Mumm-ra is ever-living," sniffed Cheetara, brandishing Akiev's bottle, "not all-knowing." Slithe was taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Then we shall get you next time, yes-s-s?" he said slyly.

"Yeah, right. Now move!" ordered Panthro, escorting the Mutant attack force outside while Cheetara saw to the sick.

"What on Third Earth happened here?" she exclaimed.

"Explain...later," gasped Lion-o before collapsing.

Cheetara cried out and rushed to his side. "Quickly," she said, pulling the cork out of the bottle. "Three swallows."

"No," said Lion-o faintly. "Kittens."

"There's enough for them as well," replied Cheetara. "You're our leader. Drink."

"Kittens first," he croaked. "I ...promised."

It was senseless to argue, so she sought out the Thunderkittens, nearly thinking them dead. The only evidence of life was the warm puff of air she felt against her finger tips as she pressed them to each child's lips. They could not swallow on their own and she was forced to prop them up one at a time and dribble the liquid down their throats using a small wooden spoon that Akiev had thoughtfully provided. It was a long, slow process. When she calculated that she'd given each a sufficient dose, she returned to Lion-o.

"Tygra," he gasped.

This time, Cheetara did not hesitate. She went to the tiger who was beginning to stir, and was relieved to find that he was well enough to take the fluid on his own. He swallowed three mouthfuls and passed the bottle on to his lord who took three of his own as Cheetara supported him in a semi-sitting position.

Now, they would wait.

Wilykat was showing signs of waking up. Cheetara put a hand to his forehead and sighed in relief. The burning fever was nearly gone. He mumbled something incomprehensible and stumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes. Cheetara grabbed his arm and made him take three more swallows of medicine from a jar before letting him go into the bathroom. Snarf used a similar jar as he kept watch in Lion-o's room and Panthro carried the bottle as he ministered to Tygra. Both tiger and lion were awake and well, but kept bed-ridden at Snarf's insistence. "Just in case," the furry animal had said.

Wilykit began to stir. Cheetara repeated the process of checking for fever and smiled at the youngling as she opened her eyes. "Hi, Cheetara," said Wilykit, almost shyly, from her nest of covers.

"Hello, kitten," replied the cheetah, stroking Wilykit's bright hair. "Feeling well? Your brother's in the bathroom, but I can help you down the hall if you like." Her smile widened at the child's faint blush. "It's how the poison leaves your system, you know."

"I know. I can wait...a little. What will we do about the aqueduct? Snarf told us that's where the Thundranium is."

"Akiev gave us a compound that will neutralize the poison," explained Cheetara, "but I imagine that Panthro and Tygra will empty and clean it all the same."

"Do you think it was the Mutants who poisoned the water?" asked Wilykit. "They seemed to know just when to attack!"

"The Mutants may have planted the poison, but it was Mumm-ra who prepared it. He gave us a little trouble on our journey." The kitten's eyes widened as Cheetara pressed the jar into her hands. "We took care of him with Akiev's help. Come now, three more swallows of medicine."

Wilykit obeyed and smiled. "I'll bet Mumm-ra's really mad. His plan almost worked and now he'll never be able to use it again!"

Cheetara returned the child's smile, but deep inside she knew that the undead mage would have other plans, many as deadly as this one. Still, it was not a thought with which to burden convalescing kittens and she pushed it aside for another time.

Mumm-ra waved one hand and the scene vanished from his mystic cauldron. He was angered, yes, but, surprisingly, not at the Thundercats. The young one had spoken the truth: his plan HAD nearly wiped them out...even with the Mutants' unforeseen intervention. It was that meddlesome Akiev. "Mistress of Life and Death", indeed! She would soon learn more about death than she cared to know.

"You may have hidden from Mumm-ra's sight in the past," the mage muttered under his breath, "but no longer! And you shall be counted among my most dire enemies!"

And the figure of the man who was no longer a man withdrew, allowing the darkness to resettle and to stagnate as all things did in the tomb amid the sinking sands.

"Waterworks" and the character "Akiev" © 1997, A.C. Smith (aka Lady Bast). No one may copy or redistribute this story-in part or in whole-or add it to a webpage-personal or commercial-without the express permission of Lady Bast. This also applies to the character "Akiev". This story may, however, be printed out or downloaded for personal use, provided that all notices (such as this one) remain intact. Lady Bast reserves the right to reprint or redistribute this story as she sees fit. Send comments to Lady Bast.

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