By RD Rivero

October 25, 2000

[Part Six]

The unbearably hot afternoon hours were spent foraging nuts and berries through the shades of an elm tree orchard. She led him through a trail familiar to her from years of experience to the hollows of a wide, ancient tree where she had made her home. The trunk bent sharply and was horizontal to the ground. Winter helped Grune up into the hole and together they huddled close in the cramped, claustrophobic quarters, arm in arm -- he was unnerved by it but the company greatly alleviated his misgivings.

She fretted with his mane while his mind roamed elsewhere --

Jagga, his eyes pointed to the ground, spoke softly in the flapping green tent, the cold night air chilled the dimly lit interior. The jaguar looked up for a moment to Grune: "You would be Lord of the Thundercats if it was in my power."

"Liar!" he shouted -- he looked at Winter, having returned to the present, he had startled her and kissed her forehead gingerly to console her. "Soon. Soon there will be a reckoning," he thought to himself, "if I have to wait forever -- I will have vengeance."

She read more from Grune's eyes, more, much more than he had let on. "Is it the --"

"No, no, it's nothing, really --" he sighed, looking down, running a finger to her lips. "It's nothing." He pressed her supple flesh with the retracted tip of his forefinger. "Nothing at all."

Winter dropped her head down to his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. She knew he was thinking of the past, dwelling in the pain of what had happened long ago. She, too, would reminisce often, reliving old moments between her and her sisters -- tense moments, unforgivable moments.

The dying sun moved quickly across the fertile land -- the sky was aglow in a reddish-yellow aura.

The pair climbed out of the hole and set upon finding a decent meal for dinner. She showed him to one of her favorite spots, to a grove where hogs and wild pigs ventured to graze on the silky bushes the grew around the banks of the river. That night a group of old boars had congregated along the smooth pebbles.

"Tonight's supper," she said while she crawled through the underbrush. "We don't have much choice -- lately it seems the youngsters have found new grounds elsewhere, too far for these too slow to get to."

He peered at the snorting animals in stomach-turning disgust -- he was not fond of pigs -- "that large one, there, the one that's drinking."

"Hmmm," she pondered rubbing her chin. "You attack from the side," she said at last. "I'll dive into the river and attack from the front."

Grune gave her the dulled knife from the bag, arming himself with a long, wooden stick with a sharpened end. He wanted to ask her something stupid, something out of the blue if only to see her smile once more but by then Winter was up and gone. For a moment or two he waited in place, seeing her slowly, silently wading in to the swiftly-flowing waters. He was afraid she might loose control, get swept away by the violent currents and drown but -- she was well experienced and could handle herself easily. She was a Warrior Maiden after all.

Quietly, carefully he maneuvered himself through the thicket on hands and knees. He did not want to alert the animals of his presence. None the less, one of the hogs sniffed the air and turned back to the darkness of the forest -- the few around it followed into the shapeless void. He looked to the side, toward the water, but could not see her anywhere and, thinking that it all hinged on him, he sprinted out of cover and ran right to the beast.

It squeaked and struggled along the ragged edge of the water. Grune had tried to tackle it but had only managed to jump onto its back, holding its neck in a way that he could not let go. He tore into the flesh with his claws but the animal was strong and would not die. He thought there would be no end until Winter emerged from the waters and jabbed the knife between the pig's eyes, shattering its skull with her own brute strength. Blood and brains sprayed out everywhere, dousing them and trickling, in little streams, down the rocks into the river where it intermingled with the foamy white water.

The animal would have to be eaten right there so work was done quickly. Grune carved the meat, Winter gathered and built the fire. As the sun finally set below the distant, western horizon, below the jagged peaks of the western mountains, they dinned fat on the excess of their prey.

From the severed head she ripped off one of the protruding tusks -- the upper right one -- and scraped off the gore. He laughed watching her work while they cleansed themselves in the river bank. She splashed water at him playfully.

"So where are you heading, anyway?" she asked while they walked back to the mouth of the tunnel. "The Lunatic castle is north, near the border with Dark Side."

"I have to go east first -- I have to meet a sorcerer on the coast. A man named Zeno."

"Zeno," she pondered the name. "He could be one of Mumm-Ra's disciples but I've never heard of him. A powerful wizard like that would be better known, I think."

Back at the tunnel the pair stopped in front of the absolute blackness of its entrance. It was like an open mouth -- a yawning mouth -- all that was missing were teeth and eyes and it could have easily been mistaken for a face, screaming out of the hillside. He told her that it was easier to walk along the tracks after he studied the passage once more to make sure that indeed it took him where he wanted to go.

"I know that place," she said, pointing at the map, to a cave along the oceanic coast where the tunnel ended. "I've been there once before, it won't be hard to get there."

"I hope not -- this is the most direct route and I fear I might not get there in time."

"Let's hurry then." Winter frisked into the cave before he had finished putting his gear back into the bag.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" Grune called, getting up quickly.

She stuck her head out of the opening: "Come on, slow poke, you want to live forever?"

Grune's eyesight was better than hers -- being a cat he had evolved to hunt in the night expertly -- he walked in the lead. Winter clung on to his arm, holding him tight. In time she, too, found that her eye sight had improved much.

The walls of the cavern were cast in murky darkness -- it was a kind of fog, a shifting, vague, formless smoke. Often she tried to reach out and touch it but it was always far, far away. She looked down -- oddly, the ground, the shiny train tracks, were clearly visible though in outline only.

He could see little, but he did not let her suspect that he was unnerved. It seemed that the trail sloped downward, arching to the left. One turn in particular was very sharp and he handled it slowly, almost unsure of himself.

The air was warm, hot and muggy. A strange smell lingered but they could not figure out what it was. In the silence, interrupted only by the sounds of their stepping over loose granite, they heard rats crawling, chirping, they felt them crossing their feet, running up and down their shins. Worse -- insects, huge and winged flapped around their heads and were scared away only by the violent swinging of their arms.

Suddenly the thin, dark world of the tunnel opened up to the point that they thought they were outside again.

Dogs bayed in the distance -- Winter looked up and saw that the there was an arched and supported ceiling, crisscrossed with thick beams of iron, several hundred feet high. The dome was glass, dusty and filthy, crumbling with age.

The night sky, complete with stars and moon, was visible.

Grune stopped and together they explored their surroundings. It was apparent that they had stumbled into the mangled remains of an ancient railroad station. He pointed to the silhouette of a train but the cars and engines remained cast in shadows and fallen, distorted columns.

"Why don't we stop here? We've been walking for hours."

He nodded. "Up there's a small platform," he said, pointing to it with his free arm. "We can get to it easily."

She was already climbing up the side of the tunnel wall before he had finished the sentence. He took notice and jumped, catlike, onto the platform to help her up. The tunnel and the railroad tracks they had trekked through was below while around other platforms rose to different elevations.

"We'll be safe here," she said, sitting down on the concrete.

"You're not cold?" he asked her.

Around them small, broken shards of glass shimmered in the dim light that slanted through the ceiling.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You don't care much for clothes, do you?"

She ran her hands across his strong, muscular arms.

"Clothes? No, I suppose not -- it doesn't bother you?"

"Oh, no, no," she blushed once more although then it was unnoticeable but to her. She looked up to him, to his eyes. "I wouldn't change anything about you, believe me, you're not like anyone else I've ever met."

"Your smile could light up a room," he said, rubbing his chin over her head. "Back on Thundera we never really cared for clothes -- except in battle, for protection."

"We have to wear clothes all the time," she sighed.

"That's 'cause you need them -- you don't have fur to protect you, like me." He hugged her longer, holding her tighter. "I love you, Winter."

[Part Seven]

Grune and Winter slept only a few hours in the relative safety of that concrete platform. As the hours of night waned and the first, bright rays of morning streaked the sky, the air turned cold and dry. Everything everywhere around them -- but especially the hairs of their bodies -- was sprinkled in a dusting of tiny droplets of shimmering dew.

The dogs that had barked and howled throughout the night had stopped wailing without notice. They were coming back to the shelter that the decayed station afforded them. They had been alarmed at the presence of the two, huddled strangers and were inching over to investigate.

Seizing the opportunity, they jumped down to the train tracks below and ran across what remained of its exposed length. In under a minute they reached that part where it tunneled through the earth again. He helped her get up and when she was safe he started to ascend, grabbing a loose section of concrete, sliding it in place to block the opening. And just in time, too, for by the three dogs had already caught their scent and where hot on their trail, barking and running after them.

From the start that new, unexplored section of tunnel was different -- an earthquake had caused it to rise in elevation and in its course of distorting rock, gaps and vents had been opened, letting in fresh air and a certain, pale glow. Grune noticed that along the upper arches of the walls were pipes, cables and bulkheads intermingled with long tubes he recognized where fluorescent bulbs -- but there was no power and synthetic lights were off. Winter found that the main track often split into two or three side tunnels -- bright sunlight came from their winded, distant ends.

Cold air circumvented with the aid of strong gusts. The hillside under which they treaded shook. Compacted soil and rocks above them loosened and dropped along with an arcid dust that burned their eyes and tickled their noses. The ground was moist with a gentle stream of water that trickled over the wooden boards -- it splashed noisily while they ran through it.

The trail ended abruptly in darkness, in a wall of fallen boulders and debris -- long ago there had been a massive cave-in. Their first reaction was to try to dig into the mess but that only aggravated the already unstable situation. they moved back, in shock and terror, fearing that their doom might come at any moment.

Winter spotted something unusual -- she directed Grune's attention to it and together they stepped nearer. The left wall, too, had caved-in but it was not blocked. Instead it had been knocked out, revealing a second tunnel, parallel to their own but depressed by a few feet. The descended first to make sure it was safe -- then he brought her down with him.

They were hit by the same smell they had encountered once before -- back when their adventures had begun at the mouth of the cave. It was the smell of death -- fresh death. Blood and putrefied flesh.

"It can only be those dogs," she said, "dragging, storing their prey into the tunnels."

Grune and Winter were silent long enough to hear a slight wince come from close behind. It was a large dog -- it barked and immediately lunged at Grune. The cat kicked it in the stomach under the ribs and sent it soaring through the air. It got back up to its feet still yapping. Winter beat its skull with her stick but still the wolf-beast continued its attack. She jumped onto its back while he held its head down and snapped its neck.

"Let's make a run for it -- before its friends arrive."

He did not have to say it twice -- without a moment to recover they stormed through the tunnel. The subterranean passage gradually curved up from the bowels of the earth. The advance from their running was stunted by that deceptively gently slope.

A sharp right turn followed and instantly they were in the vast interior of a large, spacious cavern. Light poured forth through flat, oval slits beaten into the large, main wall by the erosive forces of wind and water. The ceiling was high -- less than five hundred feet but still significantly tall -- and it was covered by thin, finger-like formations that trickled drops of cloudy water. The ground was shiny and rough, uneven -- it was pokemarked by numerous pools of varying depths and colors.

The nearest part of the cavern opening could be accessed only though one of those lakes. It water was pristine and crystal clear. Its depth was on the verge of twenty feet and its bottom was coated in a green, quivering slime. The pair dove in without a second thought and swam its whole length to the open, gapping mouth, out into the beach where the ocean waves roared, beating the shores.

Outside the sun had barely risen over the eastern horizon. The foamy waves were particularly high and violent. The sand was warm, brown and clung to them, butting their skin. Clouds loomed above, rising in the sky that was painted a dreadful, depressing gray.

They turned around -- for miles left and right the coast was lined by a stretch of tall hills, forming what was a plateau. Everywhere forever the earth was barren and lifeless -- except for the bright sun, the overall appearance was identical to that area of land around Mumm-Ra's pyramid.

To the south the plateau was interrupted in a sharp dent by the mouth of the river. At that point it was a waterfall, tall and wide, it spewed forth its contents in a vehemence. On the stone face near it a home had been carved into the cliff side.

Grune and Winter approached with caution. Foot prints, single set of foot prints led from the corner of the cavern entrance to a small alcove that served as a makeshift entrance to those mysterious apartments. There a lofty figure stood but for a moment and then there vanished before their eyes, their very unblinking eyes. They followed the trail to the tiny foyer that was lit above by a small, glowing bulb. Within that safe inset the sound and spray from the waterfall was intense.

The left wall had an iron-metal door, but it had no knob and no visible way to open it. The right wall had an orifice equally designed but it was slightly ajar. It creaked loudly while they forced it open the rest of the way -- it was deceptively heavy and required the two of them to do it. One the other side was a darkened set of stairs, weakly lighted by ancient, glowing bulbs. They were clear and the two could see the inner, coiled filament, burning soft orange. The hot, flimsy wire vibrated while they ascended the cold steps.

"Did you notice that?" she asked him. "I can't hear the waterfall anymore."

He nodded -- but his ears rang too loudly for him to have sensed the difference.

At the landing a large room opened to them -- it was adorned by two, square windows that had been carved form the rock and from which they could survey a large area of the beach. The windows were merely openings and had no glass or netting, yet it allowed no air to circulate and it cut off sound completely. Winter had to stick her whole head out to hear the crashing waves and the screeching of the waterfall.

"You have made it -- alive --" a strong but silent voice spoke from behind.

The pair turned around in unison, startled. Under the doorway of another, adjacent room stood that tall man, dressed n a plain, red uniform. He was lean but not weak, not strong either. His eyes were by far his greatest weapons -- deep in color, their penetrative stare could easily overpower the strongest will. Indeed, Grune found it hard to look at his face -- he did not understand why -- he had never been afraid to look anyone in the face -- never, never ever.

"I was told you were coming alone."

"Oh," he said, looking at Winter. "Yes, there's been a change of plan in that department," Grune answered. He looked at the man's face for his eyes had moved elsewhere. "You are Zeno?" Again the eyes met him and he had to look away.

"I am," he answered sharply.

Winter studied the scene closely. The office was carefully and artificially plain-looking. It was unadorned and contained only those items that were absolutely necessary. There was not one frill, there was not mark of personality to mar the room -- nothing was out of place and even the waste basket was empty.

"You must forgive the look, Winter -- I am a sorcerer, not a decorator. Come," he waved them over," come, don't be afraid. We have much to discuss and precious little time to do it."

[Part Eight]

Zeno led them through the doorway under which he stood into deeper parts of his abode. The rooms they passed were different and their arrangements complex. Numerous doors, halls and passages followed one another in intertwined and interconnected paths. Of one thing Winter was certain -- every room had two windows, two square windows with identical, unchanging views of the outside world. Grune's mind was unfocused and he failed to notice much about the world around him.

She recalled something that she had missed earlier, something that she had almost let drop without question: "How did you know my name?"

Zeno did not stop to look back when he answered: "It is my business to see and know all."

In a larger, somewhat dark room full of machinery -- a metal workshop full of hearths, anvils and technical contraptions -- he stood before a cabinet and opened the chest doors. "I only had enough time to make your armor," he told Grune while he displayed his wares over a wooden bench. "You'll find the fit excellent." He closed the chest. "If Winter would like --"

"No, no," she interrupted, "I fight with sticks, bows and arrows."

"Hmm," he rubbed his bearded chin. "I see. There's an orchard nearby whose wood might be useful. Wait here and try these on while I gather more supplies."

The two nodded to their host and with that he disappeared.

Grune salivated over what he had been shown -- "This is identical to what I wore back on Thundera -- this is incredible, Winter, what that man must know!"

She was silent.

He looked at her -- she stood before one of the two, open windows, next to an upright saw. She peered down onto the beach, watching Zeno hike north. He stopped and looked up -- their eyes met once but neither said nor did anything more to acknowledge one another.

"Winter? What's wrong?"

She turned around -- he stood next to her.

"It's that man, Grune, there's something about that man that's just not right."

He managed a slight laugh but when he saw that she did not react he said: "He's not like normal people, he's a wizard --"

"I don't know what it is, really, it could be nothing. Just call it woman's intuition but it's like he knows something about me, something horrible about me --"

"Come -- I tell you, after this thing with the Lunatics is over it'll be the two of us, just the two of us. Zeno and Mumm-Ra'll be left by themselves in the wayside --"

Over the violent ocean a single arch of lightning struck the waters. The pangs of thunder that followed were only thinly audible.

"You're right," she said, collapsing into his arms.

He decided to entertain her by modeling his new clothes. She liked it, the various stances and posses he took, she liked worshiping his body -- but his clothes she had a problem with, the belt around his waist, the leather gloves.

"It's unusual. The ones I had back on Thundera didn't have spikes."

"I don't like it -- it keeps me from getting close to you."

He drew her to the warmth of his body and kissed her -- "Nothing can ever separate us."

She helped him snap on his chest protector -- making sure to run her fingers across those toned parts of his body the way she had done with his others parts that by then were already covered.

Again she fell into his arms and for a moment that could have lasted eternally, they kissed deeply, passionately.

"We will live forever," he whispered into her ear, running his gloved fingers through her hair.

Zeno coughed to make his presence known -- at once the pair backed away from each other quickly, as if having been caught red handed in something much, much naughtier.

The man walked toward the table and set wooden sticks and planks on it.

"You know how to handle this?" he asked Winter -- she nodded in answer. "What tools you'll need you'll find in that drawer over there. Make sure you have at least twenty-five arrows. I don't suspect we'll need more but any less would be suicide."

She set to work immediately -- Grune was about to join her but Zeno had another surprise in store for him.

"I see that outfit suits you."

"It does, very well -- but why these spikes?"

"You'll need them in time." From under the table he produced a heavy, metal box. "And here is your weapon," he opened it and revealed to the cat a large, spiked club, "I'm sure you'll recognize it." He held it in the air with his fingers what Grune needed at first two hands to grasp.

The puma wondered just how strong Zeno really was, having then remembered about how difficult it was to open the front door.

"This club's deceptively heavy --"

"It's made out of fire rocks, what Third Earthers call Thundrainium."

Grune's eyes widened in horror. "Are you insane!" He dropped the club but Zeno grabbed it in time before it struck the floor. "Don't you know what that can to do me?"

"Mumm-Ra made you immune to its effects when he revived you."

Grune began to laugh then took the club again, twirling it in the air expertly.

"See -- and you're not loosing any strength. Now come with me -- we must prepare the explosives."

Again Grune's eyes widened -- Zeno's back was to him but yet he sensed the cat's nervous hesitation.

"How else do you expect to blow up Tomb?"

He led the burly cat up a wooden ladder painted green, into a cubical room that was built into the wall. That new room had no windows, except for the one that overlooked the machine shop below. It was a modified kitchen. On the table were five pipes. Two of them had been capped and stood upright. The rest were hollow and on their sides.

"Be patient and I shall show you how to make the plastique. It is important, Grune, you will need to know this art not only for this mission but for life."

Zeno assembled the ingredients for the bombs from the cupboards and set them down on the table. "These are the raw materials at their purest form. In nature, on the field, you'll have to use alternative sources but the results will be the same if done properly." He pointed to a ready chair, Grune accepted the invitation. "I'll do one for you and you can do the last two."

"Isn't this dangerous?" Grune asked, looking into one of the empty pipes.

Zeno took it from his hands gently. "You want to live forever? Life is danger," he spoke from tomes of experience. "Once the pipe has been capped the bombs are safe to handle."

Overall he found Grune to be an able and willing assistant. He was impressed at how quickly he grasped even the most abstract concepts. As for Winter -- the woman's fate was sealed and he had not qualms about being silent. It was the aftermath that he was worried about but once Mumm-Ra got an idea into his mind no power on Third Earth, not even his, could change it.

After the bombs had been finished and packed into a sack, after Winter had finished assembling her bow and proudly displayed her thirty arrows, he invited the pair to eat with him but they were not inclined. Neither Grune nor Winter were hungry, preferring rest over food.

He let them into the dinning room and they conversed freely while he ate -- the main topic of conversation were the Lunatics, how they had arrived on the planet, how they managed to gain strength and power. All throughout Zeno was passive and silent, speaking only when both their eyes pointed to him -- he was, in essence, testing them, he was trying to figure them out.

"How do you manage to grow all this food?" Winter asked. "Meats, vegetables -- but this place is a wasteland."

"I have gardens and there are trees up on the plateau. The meat comes from wild bovines I hunt in nearby meadows."

Just then Zeno drank the whole glass of water and when he set the empty cup on the table it refilled itself instantly -- much to his guest's amazement.

After dinner he took the cat to the side -- by then the Amazonian woman was sleeping on a sofa, they had a bid day tomorrow, all of them, but she had a head start on the men. Grune was hesitant at first to leave Winter alone but Zeno insisted -- something about his stare that, although he had already become accustomed to it, still was impossible to resist.

Out on the beach, in the glowing twilight of sunset, the two conversed:

"I gather it's your intent to run off with Winter after this mission is complete." Zeno did not wait for the answer before he continued. "That is unfortunate -- and it will not be allowed. Mumm-Ra has told me he has great plans for you. He wants you to bring order and rule back to Third Earth -- and with the Lunatics out of the way the road will be open and clear for you to conquer and unite the planet."

"Why?"

"Only then can he make certain that his will and that the will of the ancient spirits of evil are obeyed."

Grune shook his head furiously. "I'm not in this for some political, religious philosophy nonsense, I had enough of that already -- I'm doing this to repay Mumm-Ra --"

"No, you are in this forever, like me, you are his servant, you can never repay Mumm-Ra -- consider that he may take away what he had given you, your life. Besides, what will a life of anonymous solitude get you -- certainly not what YOU most long for."

"And what you that be?" he stopped the man with his outstretched arm.

"Why, revenge, of course. How do you plan on getting revenge on Jagga?"

Grune stepped aback for a moment.

"You don't understand, I know, but I told you it is my business to know. And what I know, Grune. Of your exile, of your rebellion. I know of your tail amputation, of your tormented childhood, of how society cast you aside for being a throwback. And you had the audacity to call me strange -- you and I are cur from the same cloth. I, too, am not normal --"

"In what way?"

"That ringing in your ears that you hear all of the time -- where does it come from? From that machine in the pod, poking your chest, tearing away at your flesh, humming, humming constantly. You want those nightmares to stop and you're afraid that they'll haunt you for the rest of your life -- you cling on to Winter if only to have someone else with you in that prison -- but it's not she you really want, it's not she you want tortured there with you --"

Grune pressed his hands up against his ears, shutting his eyes in terror as images flashed in his mind. "In that pod, that pod you tried and failed to destroy. But you never stopped, Grune, you never stopped trying -- in your mind you killed yourself day after day, month after month for five years. But it's Jagga you want -- it's Jagga you want to kill, destroy, he and the Thundercats who betrayed --"

"Enough!" Grune lunged at him but Zeno possessed a kind of supernatural strength he had not know before. He was held back in place with one finger.

"Forgive me," he spoke softly. "I was only testing you -- your resolve." He whispered into his ear. "I can grant you revenge."

"How? " the cast asked, panting for breath. Zeno ran his fingers around his temples, calming his mind, relaxing him.

"Do you see that?" He pointed out to the stars in the sky. "That. That whole universe -- it's all a thought, Grune, an idea, given form and substance by an infinite power -- a power no single mind can ever grasp. Thoughts are actions that exist in potential -- ready for use at any moment. With the right thought the whole course of history can be altered. You and the mutants once fought a war and in the course of battle Ratila was defeated and the Sword of Plundar was added to the Treasures of Thundera."

Grune nodded. "That happened so long ago, so far away from here."

"But those things haven't happened yet, Grune, not yet. Remember that you were placed in a pod of tachyonic matter and when you were hurtled into space at superluminal speed you traveled backwards in time -- a thousand years back to be exact. The final battle with the mutants -- even your birth -- will not happen for a long, long time. Now, this is where the power of thought comes in -- you see, if instead Jagga dumped the sword into the center of planet, after ten years or so it will cause Thundera to explode. And if that thought is seeded it will happen and what's more, I can direct the ship that evacuates Jagga to come to Third Earth --"

"But even if that is so, I'd have to wait a thousand years --"

Zeno smiled and said no more about it other than "Don't worry, my friend, it will be done. We have other things to talk about. You are curious about the history of this planet -- it is a history I am well aware of for I have lived through most of it. No, I am not immortal, like Mumm-Ra. In my pursuit of science I discovered the secretes of the universe and a method whereby I can retard my aging and extend my years."

"I am ready to learn."

"Good, good," he put his hand on Grune's shoulder. "In the beginning there was First Earth -- and it looked much, much different from the way it does now --"

[Part Nine]

Zeno entered the small, side bedroom an hour before sunset. He walked in slowly, silently -- dreading what sight he might walk into. He turned on a metal lamp that flooded the chamber in a soft, bright blue light. The bed had been slept on -- at least for a while -- the pillows had been moved and the sheets were in chaos. Under the two, square windows he found them -- Grune and Winter -- they were sleeping together, curled into each other's naked bodies.

He reached down to the cat's shoulder but stopped in a moment of contemplation. He studied the pair -- he had once been in love, truly in love but he had promised himself never to do it again -- it was too painful, too hard to watch her die. He had forced himself to feel nothing for people until the practice became second nature.

"Winter," he thought in his mind. He shook his head and with that his reservation was erased.

"Grune," he said, smiling.

"Zeno? What time is it?" He rubbed his head groggily.

"Early --"

"Is that a sense of humor?" He asked dryly.

He turned off his smirk and returned to his normal, icy self -- cursing himself for having slipped. "You might want to wake her up. We have a big day today. A big day."

Zeno walked out as soon as Grune had Winter up and awake. He stepped into his own bedroom -- clean and tidy, there was not a speck of dust, not a cobweb anywhere. It was hard to tell that anyone lived there and for centuries no less.

From a drawer on a table he produced a slab of soft clay. With a sharp stylus he carved an Egyptian curse in its native hieroglyphs and under the inscription he drew a fancy pentagraph. He wrapped the tablet in thin sheets of paper and placed the object in a heavy, iron safe.

From another drawer he took out two disk-shaped objects. One was glass and clear and the other a pristine, white ivory with a thin basin carved into it. He poured an oily liquid into it from a corked flask and then secured a needle onto a tiny pinpoint of metal the protruded almost invisibly out of the center of the base. The needled swayed and moved violently, pointing at various icons etched along the outer rim of the basin. The glass top was secured over the bottom and then that strange contraption was also put into the safe, over the tablet.

The house shook -- even the earth seemed to vibrate.

"Not yet," he whispered, "not until I leave."

He shut the safe and covered it with a removable section of the wall. Satisfied that it would never be discovered he turned and looked out the window. Grune and Winter strolled over the sandy beach to the delta formed from where the river's waterfall met the ocean.

Outside, around the wide area of the delta, were the torn and shattered remains of blue boxes and mangled beams of rusted iron. Grune recognized them from the start and that thankful that no bodies had followed -- he did not want to see those ugly, bloated faces again.

Winter led him to an outcrop of rocks and together they treaded into the fresh pools. Little else was like the vibrant, cool waters of nature. It could not be replaced by the comforts of Zeno's ancient, civilized progress that was, in general, too relaxed, too removed from the harsh necessities of the brutal, real world.

He was calm and serene -- it was almost as if he was not in his body anymore.

"For once, Winter, I slept without nightmares."

"Yes, you snoozed like a little kitty-cat." She petted his wet, dripping head lovingly.

"It must have been something Zeno did to me -- something he said last night that made me confront what had happened to me."

He paused, his face fixed in an intense glare, his eyes staring wildly.

"Jagga," she whispered.

He nodded.

After that quick swim the two returned to Zeno's abode starved and famined. They had found that maneuvering through the house was not as difficult as they feared it would be. They stumbled into the kitchen, allured by its strong, sweet scents, they found a meal already prepared for them, waiting.

The two ate quickly and in silence and once the food had been consumed they got up and wandered into the machine shop where Zeno was packing supplies. They helped him put the pipe bombs into a small, metal case that he said was only temporary. Into the sacks that they were going to carry for the mission were placed wires, cutters, chargers, detonators, lighters, maps, foodstuffs and nutrient pills for a last resort. They were also given weapons -- a non-lethal stun gun about the size of walnut that they could hide easily on their person. Into his own sack he put several odd-looking gadgets -- but he spoke nothing about them.

He saw them looking at the strange gear and so immediately he changed the subject to the mission:

"Tomb Castle is five hundred miles to the north, northwest, in an arc of hills that forms part of the border with Dark Side." He rolled out a map over the wooden table, pointing to where they were to the Lunatic stronghold. "The trek will be long and arduous for many reasons, chief among them the varied terrain and the harsh conditions. I have a ready vehicle in a storage shed up on the plateau -- but we will have to dump the jeep a mile or so from the stronghold or risk being caught. Along the way we'll find abandoned settlements and cities -- some perfectly preserved, some in smoldering ruins -- they're what's left of the people and places plundered by the Lunatics." He stood, folding the map into one of his pockets.

He showed them several pictures.

"There are only six Lunatics. This one's Luna, she's a dwarf with no real powers -- except for a decent level of intelligence. She's helpless for the most part -- if not for Amok, her constant companion. Now Amok has no higher brain functions, he speaks no real language except for a bunch of grunts and a few, intelligible fragments. 'Amok smash,' or 'Amok break,' that sort of thing. He's her enforcer -- I don't know what his part of the bargain, is, maybe he just doesn't know better, but the two are inseparable, he even lets her ride on his back everywhere."

The pictures were feverishly exchanged between Grune and Winter -- they studied them, memorizing their every detail.

"Gothic looking bunch, aren't they?" she quipped.

"Red Eye is another one with a low IQ. He has the ability to see in infrared and in other wavelengths. He wears those glasses to protect his sensitive eyes. If you are ever in a fight with him, try to get them off -- he'll be so afraid of going blind he'll retreat instantly.

"TugMug is about the strangest thing that you'll ever see. He comes from a moon with strong gravity, so he's built compact. Because gravity here is so weak by comparison he can jump unimaginable heights. His weapon is a modified blaster that can alter gravity.

"Chilla and Alluro go together and next to Luna they are easily the smartest and most dangerous of the group. Chilla and scorch and freeze items at will, while Alluro has a special club that he can use to control people's minds.

"The Lunatics are mercenaries and they have no leader among them. That has often lead to conflicts but I doubt if that can be used to our advantage. Ours is a covert mission."

He took out the pictures and showed them new ones -- aerial photographs of the castle. Grune was about to ask how such pictures could have been taken. Zeno seemed to have sensed his curiosity.

"These photographs were taken with the use of ancient satellites that still orbit the earth. The castle sits over what once was an active volcano. Over time the action of wind and water eroded it to the flat plane that you see there. but the magma vents remain underground. The castle itself is powered by a matter-antimatter turbine that they put together from the remains of their wreckage. With those explosives put in the right places we can cause the reactor to sink into one of the vents that it hangs over -- that his cause it to malfunction, of course and the massive blast that will follow will cause an eruption. By then Mumm-Ra would have turned on the spell and the Lunatics will be cast in a lava prison, preserved in the crater.

"To actually get to the castle we'll have to maneuver through the Berbil village that surrounds it. The Berbils look like tiny, robotic bears but don't let their appearance fool you. They were invented by the Lunatics themselves out of spare parts to serve as 'watch dogs.' They are programmed and if we can get to this relay station, in that adobe hut just outside the castle walls, we can reprogram them and turn them into weak, useless cowards. We'll then enter though those exhaust ports -- they'll take us directly into the power room. We place the explosives and then we're off. We're going to have to do this at night -- when they won't be up, paying attention to what's going on around them. For that reasons it's important to get the Berbils out of the way without a hitch."

"It doesn't sound like a bad plan. What's the alternative?"

"Failure," Zeno said, dryly.

Grune chuckled once, softy -- he had begun to get used to the man's strange sense of humor.

The sun ascended the heaves in the light of a new day that broke through the windows in the back of the room.

After the makeshift briefing the three took their sacks and headed out the door. Grune totted the metal case with the bombs very carefully although he knew, or he believed at least, that it was safe. Out the heavy iron door Zeno stopped and shut it tight with a back kick. The door locked in place securely.

"Could anyone break in?" Grune asked him.

"Probably not -- and even if they did, they wouldn't stay for long." Once they were on the sand he directed the puma to look back. "You see -- it's like it's not there."

Grune squinted his eyes and tried to look as hard as he could but it was in vain. The windows, the two, square windows were gone, the dark alcove had vanished. The whole house had faded indistinguishably into the rocky facade of the cliff side.

Zeno led them past the thin slit opening of the cavern to a small indentation, an arched contour carved into the face of the plateau. It was, in fact, a sort of ramp that gently sloped up to the highlands. Open to them was the heart of the continent, where taller mountains loomed in the distance and vast, green orchards of fruited trees spread unchecked and unbounded for as far as the eye could see.

The storage shed was camouflaged by large, gray boulders and broken fragments of reinforced concrete. Aged and withered, the internal iron rods had rusted, giving the slabs a slightly red color. The jeep it covered was black and blended into the darkness quite well. It ran on an unusual type of fuel -- something Zeno called 'gasoline.' It was apparently very popular back in the First Earth era, before its supply had exhausted.

"We don't mine for oil anymore but it exists now in abundant quantities -- it seems that nature was able to renew the supply, in the ensuing millions of years. It's not very efficient but it did well for a time. Now it's a novelty item, I suppose."

He secured the metal case in the back where Grune decided he wanted to ride while Winter sat up front next to him and the wheel.

While Zeno drove through the bumpy wilderness Grune sat quietly, pensively, his mind wandering ill at ease. He wanted revenge but he was torn -- he wanted Winter, too, he wanted to live in peace with her and to forget about all that had been done to him back on Thundera.

Just then Zeno looked back quickly at the puma through the rearview mirror, catching only the back of his heavy head.

He was soothed by the idea that the terrible things he had suffered at Jagga's hands had yet to happen -- and yet --

It was a cold, bitter Thunderian night -- moonless, so dark that not even the stars broke through the thin, misty clouds that adorned the air. Around the cluttered plane the army was either resting in green tents or sneaking about the wilderness, constantly vigil for the slightest hint of the enemy's eventual approach. The Mutants had attacked early that morning -- their charred bodies, commingled with those fallen Thundercats, littered the surrounding forests.

In a small hut in the wayside, Grune sat at the end of a makeshift table formed from heavy, packing crates. His pen moved busily scribbling, shiny ink notes across the margins of green pages in a sprawling hand -- the general orders to be dispensed with before midnight.

He shivered for the tent was open and he had stripped to his fur.

Jagga appeared from the hole holding a lantern in his right hand before hanging it on a metal support. He removed his helmet and dropped the in on his bed. He was taking off his cloak when he noticed that the saber-tooth was unprotected and he wondered if it was a good idea considering the situation.

Grune looked up -- he had felt the jaguar's eyes pressing his flesh -- and with a voice unusually gruff: "So? You're back -- how's Clawdus?"

"He'll live -- a blind man."

"The rumors were true. Ratila did quite a job on him." He arose and walked to the opening, handing the rolled documents to a guard who stood at post. He shut the hut's flapping entrance with a rusty zipper and peered back.

"What a fine figure of a Thundercat you are," Jagga whispered in a quivering voice -- but it was from the neck up that was unacceptable.

Grune hugged Jagga deeply and whispered: "We are equals, you and I --"

Jagga kept his eyes down, pointing to his friend's massive chest: "You would be Lord of the Thundercats -- if it was my power --"

With his forefinger he lifted the jaguar's head up to face his: "I don't look the part, I know --" he broke away toward the shadows. "I know it's a matter of luck that I've even come as far as I have."

"No, it wasn't luck, you're the most qualified --"

"I'm a throw back, a genetic inferior."

"Nothing about you is inferior."

"You never look me in the face, I can see it in your eyes, Jagga."

An alarm rang from the fields -- roaring and running followed.

"Cowards!" Grune shouted. He tore open the tent's entrance and stepped out for a moment. "Jagga! Get to your troops in the north, lead the regiments to the cliff."

Jagga had already donned on his equipment.

The alarm ceased and in the deceptive calm Jagga said: "We'll discuss this later."

Grune, busy putting on his armor: "No, the matter's is closed, my Lord, I have more important things to do -- go, the seconds are wasting."

Jagga left -- the hint of tears glimmered in his eyes. "You're a greater man than me."

"No," he said assured he was alone, "no, there will be a reckoning but for the moment, I'm afraid," he said securing his chest plate, "but for now -- the rest is silence."

Thunder and lightning brought him back. Grune inched close to the open, back window and looked up to the sky. It was gray and darkening into a storm. The air was chilly and he felt a small droplet of water hit his nose. He shivered and went back to the safety of the vehicle -- it was silent inside, incredibly silent and, bored, he curled up next to the back seat and fell asleep.

The cramped, antechamber was lit by the soft, red glow of two torches attached to the walls. The low ceiling, supported by evenly spaced horizontal beams, was covered in thick, torn cobwebs. Over a wooden table an ancient book was open to an obscure chapter. Vials and metal basins adorned the workbench.

Mumm-Ra poured the last of the ethereal ingredients into a green-glass container. It fumed violently but the effect subsided in a few moments. The container heated and he let it cool for a while before he corked it.

From a series of shelves behind him, the hooded figure skimmed the brittle spines of the slanted tomes. Ants and small, winged roaches crawled through the bindings, through the gaps between the books, down the wall to the safety of the cracks between the flat stones of the floor. He pulled out a particularly thin volume, a flimsy collection of pages, withered and discolored by time, eaten and worn by silverfish and other, microscopic parasites.

The alchemy was written in Hebrew and bore the signature of Isaac Newton. The mummy skimmed the red-inked handwriting directly to the chapter that most interested him. He set it down, open, secure over the larger book of spells that he had been using earlier.

He touched the green-glass flask with his eager fingers -- it was cold, icy cold and had formed crystals in the few moments that he had set it aside.

"At last the potion is complete, ancient ones," he spoke in gruff tones. "Only the activator is required -- hot, molten lava -- and it will have to wait for its proper time."

He approached a cupboard and swung open its doors to reveal as treasure trove of distilled chemicals, essences, potions, salts. He grabbed several, multicolored vials, set them on the table next to a burner and returned for more. The ingredients were assembled around a porcelain bowl.

"My plan is working perfectly!" Mumm-Ra spoke, to no one in particular. "And now to take care of Winter."

One by one he mixed the eerie fluids, ground into the mixture eggshells and gypsum granules. He heated a red, fluffy solid until it turned yellow and dumped it immediately into the basin. He followed the thin book's directions to the letter and, to his delight, before his eyes, his red, unblinking eyes, the fluids coalesced and evaporated in a thin, gray mist.

Out from the nothingness an empty, crystal ball formed, levitated over the base of the porcelain bowl. The mummy picked it up, cupped it in his hands -- it was strong, deceptively strong -- he laughed and laughed.

Thunder and lightning crashed above the sharp peak of the Black Pyramid.