Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 11
“Sealed? You mean that cave's not always there?”
“No,” she replied, “I opened it when I saw you coming.”
“Ahhh, convenient,” he sighed.
Gracielle sniggered and held out a small, brown, fabric covered notebook. “Here it is, Glaron,” she breathed, “I'm sure I don't have to tell you how confidential this thing is.”
Glaron nodded as he flipped slowly through the notebook. He felt like he was holding the most valuable item that had ever existed on Lor Mandela. Gracielle had written the Advantiere down over several pages, each one containing one line. “I'll protect it with my life, Ator,” he assured.
“I wrote it out like this for a reason,” she explained. “I left room on each page for our notes. When we get a line figured out, I would like you to tear it out and give it to Ultara for safekeeping.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Where would you like to begin?”
She led him over to where two deep, violet chairs and a small, simple table stood. They sat down and initiated a process that—unbeknownst to them—would virtually consume their lives for the next four years—the process of solving Lantalia's Advantiere.
CHAPTER XI
A DAY OF BREAKTHROUGHS
Ator, Forgive me for sending this note. I hope that nothing is jeopardized by it. I've found something! Please don't risk sending a reply. Tonight at the usual time—URGENT.
Gracielle eagerly read the note from Glaron that had just been delivered. “Yes,” she exclaimed aloud, “finally!” She folded it and tucked it into a small, porcelain box in her top bureau drawer. “Rynolts couldn't keep me away, my friend,” she whispered. Over the last four years, she and Glaron had been secretly meeting in an effort to solve the Advantiere. They had dissected each of its lines into its most rudimentary parts, only to end up even more bewildered and frustrated. But now, Glaron was saying he’d found something!
This has got to be big! She thought to herself. He wouldn't risk a surprise meeting, unless it was crucial.
“Momma!” Gracielle's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a spunky, rosy cheeked little girl with sparkling blue eyes and jet black bouncing curls who had bounded into the room. “When they will be here, Momma?” Audril brimmed with vivacity.
“Oh, dearest, your party isn't until this afternoon,” she answered, mussing Audril's curly black hair. “Why don't you find Daddy and see if he's ready for breakfast yet?”
Audril put a round little fist to her mouth and giggled. She was looking past Gracielle, who knew that this was code for the morning ritual of “Daddy's sneaking up on you.” She smiled and played along. “What are you giggling at, little girl?”
“Nuhfing,” Audril sniggered through her small fist.
Jonathan poked Gracielle in her sides. “BUAH-HA!” he shouted.
“Aaaaaaa!” she shrieked, as she pretended to jump in her seat.
Audril moved her hand away from her mouth and laughed from her toes. “He gotcha, Momma! He gotcha!”
“Yes, he got me . . .” she smiled, “again.” She smirked at Jonathan who leaned over and kissed her good morning.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Audril pulled on his pant leg. “You know what is today?”
Jonathan lifted her up and blew a raspberry on her pink cheek. “What is today?” he teased. “Is it the day I get a haircut?”
“Nooo,” she smiled sheepishly.
“Oh! Well then it must be the day Momma gets new shoes! Yes . . . I'm sure! It's Momma New Shoe Day! Hooray!” He lifted her up above his head and repeated, “Hooray!”
“No, Daddy,” Audril corrected, “iss my birfday!”
“Your birthday? That is exciting! I just love birthdays! So, let's see . . . you're two years old now, right?”
“Daddy, I'n four,” she scolded.
Jonathan kissed her cheek and confessed, “I know you’re four, my angel. Happy Birthday.” He lowered her down to the floor; she jumped from his arms and bounced up and down excitedly next to him for a few seconds, then skipped over to a pile of picture books on the floor, and pulled out her favorite. She plopped down on the rug and started flipping through it, merrily humming to herself.
Jonathan chuckled. “So, what's on your agenda for today, my love?” he asked Gracielle.
“Just preparing for the event of the century,” she grinned, “and you?”
“What else?” he answered. “Working on the Advantiere. I mean . . . have you seen Sybran Forest recently?”
Gracielle nodded.
“Half dead, I'm sure of it. It's getting too close for comfort, Graci. I'm afraid if we don't get some help . . . .”
“But, Jonathan,” she pleaded, “can’t we just wait a few more days?”
“Wait for what? Mandela City to explode? The world is coming to an end, Graci! It's time to get help!”
Gracielle glared scoldingly at him. She grabbed a small stick-like object from a nearby table and spoke into it. “Send for Kahlie,” she instructed, and frowned at Jonathan again. “Will you be careful with that 'the world's coming to an end' stuff in front of her?” she whispered, pointing the stick towards Audril.
He glanced over at their little girl who was lying on her stomach, kicking her legs back and forth while she read. “Oh . . . sorry,” he apologized.
She shook her head and turned away. Her thoughts immediately turned to the condition of the planet. Jonathan was right. It was getting bad. But Glaron had found something, and if what he'd discovered was enough, they wouldn’t have to tell anyone else about the Advantiere—and she wouldn’t have to betray Ultara's secret again.
Just then, Kahlie tapped at the door and entered the room.
“Milady,” Jonathan bowed dramatically, “welcome back. I hope you enjoyed the academy?” When he stood and actually looked at Kahlie, he almost fell over backward. This was not the gawky girl he’d expected to see. Instead, he found himself face to face with a beautiful and refined young woman. “Whoa! I . . . uh . . . I see you did! You . . . you look radiant, Milady!” He stared at her in awe. “Graci . . . what happened to that awkward little kid who used to be your Companion Servant?”
“Um . . . uh . . . Kahlie,” Gracielle stammered, “you look gorgeous, positively gorgeous!”
Kahlie had just returned after a month away at a finishing academy. Gracielle had sent her there to learn about diplomacy and mediation, but she certainly didn't expect to see such a drastic physical transformation in her companion.
The girl she’d come to know had messy, curly red hair, and hardly ever wore more than a simple brown dress—which was frequently dirty—and light blue shoes with holes in the sides. But now, her hair was tamed into long, soft waves and she was wearing makeup! The celery green color of her suit brought out the vivid emerald in her eyes. Her nails were manicured; she was wearing shoes that matched her outfit; and she was adorned about the neck and wrists in elegant pearl and silver jewelry.
“Good Morning, Atoc . . . Ator,” she greeted, lowering gracefully to her knee.
Gracielle beamed and choked back a giggle. “Oh, okay, Kahlie . . . that's enough of that! You know you don't have to be that formal with us!”
“Oh, I know,” Kahlie grinned, “I just wanted to show you what I learned! Besides, the instructors at the academy would keel over if they ever found out I didn't bow to you! I mean . . . don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled, of course, that you sent me, Ator, but yeowch! Some of those instructors are just plain wacky and uptight!”
“Ahhhhh. There she is,” Jonathan chuckled. He started toward her hair with his hand, but then thought the better of it. Kahlie caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, and felt the all too familiar burning in her cheeks that Jonathan seemed to be so talented at bringing on.
“Kahlieeeeee!” Audril had been so wrapped up in her book that she hadn't noticed Kahlie until now. She rushed over and jumped full-force onto Kahlie, who caught her and swung her around in a circle.
“My big four-year-old Buzzy Bug,” she exclaimed. “Happy, happy birthday, Miss Audril!” She gave Audril a great big squeeze.
Audril ran her little hand through her smooth hair. “Kahlie?” she grimaced. “You look funny.”
Jonathan, Gracielle and Kahlie all laughed.
“Yes I do,” Kahlie agreed, and kissed Audril’s round cheek.
Gracielle stifled her laughter. “Um . . . will you take our birthday girl to the dining room and get her some breakfast, Kahlie? The atoc and I have some important matters to discuss.”
“Of course, ma'am,” she nodded. “Come on, Buzzy Bug.” She set Audril down, took her by the hand, and off they went.
“Did you see that?” Jonathan asked. “She's too young for all that fluff! They made her look twenty-five years old, at least!”
“Jonathan, stop!” Gracielle scolded. “She looks beautiful. She is eighteen now, you know.”
A sudden bump of the ground and a distant rumbling reminded them why they needed to be talking about matters other than Kahlie's appearance.
Jonathan sighed and shook his head. “We can’t wait anymore, Graci. We've waited too long already. We really need to get help.”
She dropped down into her favorite big green chair and pondered the situation for a minute. If Glaron’s discovery was enough to solve the Advantiere, what difference would it make if she agreed with Jonathan? Surely she could persuade him to wait until tomorrow to get the help he was seeking. “Okay,” she sighed at last, “let’s get help.”
Jonathan's jaw dropped.
“Sweetheart,” she explained, “I don't want their lives to be cut short because of my selfishness.” She pointed at the door that Audril and Kahlie had just exited through. “But I’m scared. I don't know who we can trust with this.”
“I’m sure we can trust Michelan and Statlen,” he soothed. “They're our closest friends, and two of the smartest men I know.”
Again, the floor jolted and the planet rumbled loudly.
“All right!” Gracielle yelled angrily skyward and let out an exasperated sigh. “Let me write down some notes . . . things we've already thought about, and ideas we've already tried. Maybe it’ll be helpful. I’ll do it after the party tonight.”
“Thank you, Love.” Jonathan leaned over and gave her a kiss. “I'm certain they’ll respect our confidence, and be a great help to us.”
“When will you talk to them?” she asked. “There won’t be time today.”
Jonathan thought for a minute and answered in exactly the way she hoped he would. “Yeah, you’re right. It’ll have to wait until Audril's party is out of the way.”
“How about in the morning,” she suggested. After Glaron and I have it figured out, she thought to herself.
A small piece of plaster from the ceiling dropped to the floor next to Jonathan, followed by a trail of white floating dust. “Yes, I think that's best,” he answered, as he brushed at the fine powder that had just landed on his shoulder. “I'll send messages to them right away. Then, if you like,” he volunteered, “I can come help you with the . . . um . . . extravaganza.”
Gracielle smiled and thanked him.
He kissed her, and then went on his way.
A few minutes later, Kahlie and Audril returned from breakfast. “Momma,” Audril announced, “we bringed you some muffins!”
“Oh, thank you, dearest.” She took the fluffy, berry muffins that Audril was holding and set them down on a small table, and then slumped back into her chair and looked Kahlie over once more. “You really do look lovely, my dear.”
Kahlie smiled warmly. “Thank you, Ator.” She could tell that something was weighing heavily on Gracielle's mind. “Is everything all right, ma'am?”
“Oh, it's just the Advantiere again,” Gracielle explained. She'd confided bits and pieces about the Advantiere to Kahlie over the years. Kahlie knew that a Trysta named Glaron was helping her—and that Jonathan didn't know about their meetings. She knew that Audril had a special part to play, and also that the strange happenings on Lor Mandela were directly related to the mysterious prophecy.
She scooted Audril over to an elegant, ivory doll house and opened it up for her. “Here, Buzzy. Why don’t you play with your dolls?” Audril loved to pretend with the little doll family that lived in the house. She flopped down on to the floor, immediately picked up two of the little figures, and started a make-believe conversation between them.
Kahlie walked back over to Gracielle and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
The ator didn't answer for some time; she just sat in the chair gazing blankly at Kahlie. All of a sudden, her face lit up and she started mumbling excitedly. “She . . . she was altered, and then disappeared! Of course . . . she would be . . . if Darian . . . .” She stopped and stared into space with a stunned expression on her face.
“What is it, ma'am?” Kahlie asked.
“Oh!” Gracielle blurted and jumped up from the chair, “It all makes sense! It . . . we . . . this means . . . we're not doomed, Kahlie! It can still be done!” She raced over and hugged Kahlie exuberantly. “Oh, thank you, Kahlie!” she exclaimed. “Thank you!”
Kahlie was confused, to say the least. “Thank you for what?” she inquired.
“Uh . . . well . . .” Gracielle bit on her lower lip. “I . . . I can't really say right now, but don't worry, Kahlie! Once I find out if my hunch is correct, you'll be the first to know.” She started laughing. “Oh, I have to go get ready for the party,” she bubbled. “I'll be back at lunch.” She hugged Kahlie again and dashed out of the room.
Kahlie shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, then,” she chuckled. She shook her head and joined Audril at the doll house.
A few hours later, Gracielle and Jonathan returned to the room to escort Audril to her party. Audril was all dressed up in a tea length, white linen sun dress. Kahlie had stuck little yellow flowers in her hair, and even put some of her makeup on her—just because she was such a big girl now.
Audril was ecstatic when her parents arrived. “Iss time! Iss time!” she shouted. “Come on Kahlie!” She grabbed Kahlie's hand and pulled her toward the door. “Iss time for my party!”
“Okay . . . we're coming, Buzz,” Kahlie giggled, and the four of them made their way to the Assembly Hall for the big event.
The party was a huge success. Hundreds of friends came to celebrate, bringing with them mountains of dolls, makeup sets, tea sets, drawing colors, building toys, books, purses, clothes—there was hardly a gift that Audril didn't receive. Games were played, food was served, songs were sung, and presents were unwrapped. In the end, there was a very tired, but very happy little atoh—and a colossal mess.
Kahlie took Audril back to her room to put her to bed.
Gracielle stayed to coordinate the clean up effort, while Jonathan went to see if there was word back from Michelan and Statlen.
Jonathan was almost to the main doors, when Statlen burst through them, disheveled and out of breath. “Forgive me, Atoc,” he panted, “but there has been . . . a large land-slide . . . at the south end of Westrim. We believe that there are several fatalities, sir. Dr. Michelan is assisting there, and I'm afraid that I am needed as well.”
“Yes . . . of course,” Jonathan didn't waste a second; he was already speeding back across the foyer. “Wait here, Statlen. I'm coming with you,” he commanded, “I just need to let Graci know.” He raced back to the Assembly Hall and informed Gracielle who quickly instructed the servants to gather supplies and food for him and Statlen to take on the journey.
Within a few minutes, they were ready to leave. Gracielle escorted Jonathan out of the palace, and begged him to be careful.
“I'll send word once I have more details,” he called back as they rushed away.
Gracielle stood on the front steps, watching them go and feeling very concerned. Why couldn't they figure this blasted thing out? People were dying now! It wasn't just random stories of tornadoes ripping through some evacuated country on the other side of the world anymore. The destruction was here—all around them. She looked up at the darkening sky and cried out to the spirit of Lor Mandela, “You know, just a little help would be nice! Like a hint or a clue or . . . .” She stopped short. “Glaron!” she gasped. The sun was setting and she realized that she should have been on her way to the Anaria by now! She looked down at the sparkly blue gown she was wearing and stomped her foot in frustration. Quickly, she ran back to her room. Kahlie was there waiting for her.
“I’m sorry, Kahlie,” Gracielle yelled as she ran into the changing room. “I can’t talk. I have to go! I'm supposed to be meeting Glaron . . . right now!”
“Yes, Ator, of course. But I . . . I heard about Westrim—that there was a slide and that people’ve been killed.” One of Kahlie’s closest friends, Dallin Doone, lived in Westrim.
Gracielle marveled at how quickly word had spread through the palace. She hurried back into the room—now wearing gray pants and an ivory shirt—reached for a rust colored jacket from a tall, narrow wardrobe and slipped it on. “Yes, Kahlie. Jonathan’s on his way there now.” She touched Kahlie on the shoulder and soothed, “I'm sure Dallin's fine, dear. It would take a lot more than a land slide to bring him down.” She felt bad about leaving Kahlie when she was obviously distraught, but it was absolutely necessary. “I'll hurry back . . . I promise . . . just as soon as I can.”
Kahlie nodded somberly, and Gracielle raced out of the room. She ran through the foyer and out the main doors. The sun had already fully set. “Hang on, Glaron! Please don't leave. I'm on my way.” As soon as she was down the front steps and out into the courtyard she yelled, “The Anaria!” and vanished.
She popped up outside the big, old tree just as Glaron was turning to leave. “Ohhh,” he yelped, “I wish you wouldn't do that!”
Without a word, she waved her hand in the air in a large “S” like pattern and the cave entrance rippled onto the surface of the peeling gray bark. As she did, there was a rumble and a crackling sound that emanated from the hills in the distance. The ground shook and vibrated, causing hundreds of dry, dead leaves to spill down from the Anaria's branches.
