Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 27
The woman lowered the cloak's hood down to her shoulders, revealing wild, fiery orange hair. As she turned to pace across the length of the platform, Maggie caught a momentary glimpse of her face. It was beautiful, and yet eerie somehow, almost too beautiful, too perfect. The look of complete arrogance and power in her metallic golden eyes sent shivers flooding down Maggie's spine. Maggie guessed that this woman must have heard her arrive, and was, at the moment, mistaking her for a Shadow Dweller—whatever that was. It didn't take long before she found out exactly what it was.
On the other side of the river, the room's walls were alive with dancing reflections of the water and flickering glints of light from the torches that lined them. Suddenly, something about the shadows became abnormal. A section toward the center of the wall started to take shape and form. Quickly, and quite seamlessly, a human-like creature emerged from the shadows. It was a thin, yet muscular man wearing only a tattered animal skin which wrapped around his waist and hung nearly to his knees. His shoulder length hair twisted and weaved out of the shadows, gradually brightening from a gloomy bluish black to pure white. It floated around as if it had a mind of its own. Even in the dim light, and from easily thirty feet away, Maggie could see that this mysterious creature's eyes were either white, or a very pale, icy blue. As the last bit of him separated from the shadowy wall, he leaned over so that his knuckles were almost on the ground and then broke into a phenomenally fast gallop across the bridge. He stopped abruptly in front of the platform, nodded—not bowed—to the woman, and spoke in a deep thick accent.
“Iee do not hide frahm you, deah Ooltara. Iee moust only be carfohl.” His words rolled from his lips very slowly, as if he was trying to lull a restless child to sleep.
“Ultara?” Maggie mouthed. She'd heard that name before. Ultara. She tried to remember. Where have I heard that name? Suddenly, it clicked. “Ultara!” she gasped—almost loud enough to be heard. The men who'd broken into her house had mentioned Ultara, and so had Ryannon. Ultara was Ryannon’s mother!
“What ees it dat Iee may do for you, Vritessa?”
Ultara studied the Shadow Dweller and then replied, “I need to ask a favor of you, Lortu . . . of you and your followers. I guarantee that it will profit you.”
Lortu's interest was piqued. “Iee am leestening.”
Ultara returned to her tree throne, and explained, “My generals have found the missing atoc and atoh.”
Lortu's eyes widened, “Found dem?
“Yes,” she answered.
“I tot dey would be daed bye now.” Lortu casually pulled a bug, or a leaf, or some other small object from his hair, and threw it over his shoulder into the water behind him.
“Well, they are not. They were transported off of Lor Mandela at the time of the battle. That's why no one has found them . . . they aren't here.”
“Transported? Dat would 'ave been deeficult. How did dey get transported,” he questioned. “An’ how do you plan to bring dem back to de Lor Mandela?”
“How they got there is not important,” Ultara replied. “The problem I’m facing now is that I sent my travelers to put receptors on them . . . to bring them back . . . but they were only able to get one . . . onto the girl.”
Maggie's stomach lurched at the mere reminder that these odd and frightening creatures had put something on her, and had done so completely unbeknownst to her.
“Ahhhhh, so you be needing us to find 'er and breeng 'er to you. Dat ees what you want?” A haughty smile grew on Lortu’s face. “De Trystas ees not clever enov?”
In less time than it would've taken for Maggie to blink, Ultara was out of her chair, to the front of the platform, and holding a long, shiny, black spear-type object at Lortu's throat. Lortu looked stunned, and very frightened.
“You forget to whom you owe your life, Shadow Dweller,” Ultara seethed. “My troops happen to be occupied with other things at the moment, and since your clan seems to have infiltrated Mandela City and the Sybran, you can easily keep an eye out.”
Lortu took a small step backward and cautiously pushed the spear away from his neck. “Hahmble apologees, Vritessa.'Ow may we serve?”
She lowered the spear. “I want you to find Atoh Audril. Notify me as soon as she is found. Bring her to the Caverns. I don’t want anyone here to see her.”
“And what of de atoc?”
“Once the atoc is made aware of the situation . . . once he knows that I have his beloved little Audril, I’m sure he will come back to us willingly.”
Lortu smiled and nodded in understanding, “Ov course. Der ees just one more ting, den.”
“Ahhh, yes,” Ultara answered, “your compensation.” She leaned down and put her face close to his. “Bring me Audril, Lortu, and your life debt will be paid.”
Lortu's pale eyes grew even wider than they were before. Maggie imagined that this would be the exact look on someone's face after they found out they'd won the lottery.
“Dat makes you de best offer den.” Lortu nodded slowly, and without saying another word, bowed and backed his way across the bridge. Then—just as he had appeared— he disappeared into the shadows.
Ultara looked down at the spear still clutched in her hand and flung it across the room. Just as it was about to smack into the wall, it exploded with a bang and disintegrated into a cloud of black smoke. She was staring out across the span of the river, when she heard a strange sound.
Whoosh, whooooooshhhhh.
She whipped around and looked in the direction of the sound. Her eyes glowed bright gold, illuminating the entire platform.
Maggie gasped and pushed herself around tightly against the pillar. Come on, she pleaded silently, get me out of here!
The whooshing continued as the glow from Ultara's eyes became brighter and brighter.
“Tug, dang it! Where's the tug?” she whispered frantically.
The golden light intensified as Ultara drew nearer.
Maggie decided that her only hope was going to be to make a run for it, so she took a deep breath and readied herself for a chase. She hunched down and was about to sprint away, when Ultara rounded the corner and bumped right into her.
Ultara jumped back; her eyes instantly dimmed. The look on her face was one of shock and disbelief.
Maggie couldn't move; she remained frozen in her crouched position, staring at Ultara, who was standing motionless, staring back at her. She was so terrified, that when the tugging in her stomach actually began, she mistook it for the sickening sensation that would naturally accompany the panic that was currently paralyzing her. In an instant, a blast of blue light flashed above her head, followed by a loud, startling crack, and she was out of there.
Unfortunately, where she landed next was not much better. She popped into the middle of a large, stone room—with tall windows along one wall—occupied by two men, both of whom were, luckily, facing away from her.
The man furthest from her was yelling loudly at the other. “. . . crucial information to be discovered on Lor Mandela in more than a YEAR and Ultara finds out before I do?” He started to turn to face the other man, but as he did, a hand slapped over Maggie's mouth; another grabbed her by the waist.
She was promptly yanked out of the room and behind the door. She managed to turn her head to find that it was Ryannon pulling her backwards. He cautiously let go of her waist, put his finger to his lips, and whispered, “Shhh.” He moved his other hand slowly from her mouth and pointed back towards the room. “My father,” he breathed.
Maggie nodded as he motioned for her to move in closer and together they listened from the hallway to the heated conversation brewing just beyond the door.
“I tried to get the information to you first, Milord, but the vritesse has been having all of us watched. She trusts no one, not even her own generals!”
“Well, obviously that is wise.” Darian’s voice was now calm and deliberate. “Tell me, General Linetal, where is Atoh Audril right now?”
“I . . . uh . . . I am not sure, sir.”
“No, of course you aren't. That would be because only two receptors were placed, not five.” He paused for a moment, and then asked, “And where is her father?”
Again the answer came, “I . . . I don't know.”
“And, that, my friend is simply because I made the mistake of counting on you in the first place. But I will let you in on a little secret, General Linetal. I have a plan to fix all of this.”
“How may I be of assistance, sire?”
Darian calmly oozed, “No need, no need. You see, General, it turns out that I still have spies I can count on. They are on their way to Drolana right now to find Atoc Jonathan and to bring him back to me, and I guarantee you they will not fail me as you have.”
“Wh . . . what's that? What are you doing?” The voice of General Linetal took on a discernible tone of panic.
Ryannon slowly leaned around the door to get a better look and Maggie leaned with him. From her vantage point, she observed an older silver-haired man—who she assumed to be the general—on his knees looking pleadingly at Ryannon's father, a man with long, straight, dark, hair, strong chiseled features, and flickering eyes. He was holding a thin silver tube and aiming it toward the general's head. Ryannon noticed it too and quickly grabbed Maggie by the arm and started pulling her away.
“Oh, not good . . . .” he whispered. “We've got to get out of here!”
Maggie didn't question him. She could tell that something bad was about to happen to Linetal, and had no desire to stay and watch. She and Ryannon sped down a wide corridor, away from the room. Suddenly, the shrill, agonizing screams of a man echoed through the corridor, and Maggie stopped in her tracks. Ryannon rushed back to her; he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head into his chest to try to muffle the horrible shrieks. She could still hear them though, and knew with a nauseating certainty that General Linetal was being killed. The cries of the poor man became more and more anguished, and then stopped, leaving behind a sickening silence.
Maggie felt dizzy. The room around her began to spin and twist. Ryannon sensed that she was in trouble and shifted his arms upward, holding her firmly by the shoulders. She looked up into his glinting eyes and tried to breathe, but it was useless. All at once, she felt her knees buckle and everything went black.
At length, she blinked her eyes back open. Ryannon was kneeling over her, gently patting her on the cheek. They were outdoors on a small half-dead lawn, completely surrounded by tall brown hedges.
“Maggie . . . Maggie, are you all right?” he asked, looking rather concerned.
“Uh . . . I . . . I think so.” Maggie mumbled. She moved to sit up, and Ryannon put his arm behind her to help. “Is . . . is he dead? The general, I mean.”
Ryannon looked down at the ground and nodded. He lifted himself to his feet, and with his back to her muttered, “I'm sorry, Maggie. This is all my fault.”
“Your fault,” she questioned. “How could this possibly be your fault, Ryannon? You didn't kill that man. Your father did!”
He turned and looked at her with guilt and sadness in his eyes. “My father is a monster . . . a monster that I have helped create.” He looked around at the wilted hedges that encircled them and explained, “When I was very young, I used to come out here and pretend to be a mighty hunter. I was armed with my pointy stick and some rocks I found lying on the ground.” He smiled in remembrance.
Maggie pictured an adorable little boy with dark hair dodging stealthily from bush to bush, in search of unsuspecting prey.
“It didn't take long for me to realize that my weapons were completely inadequate. The other night, when you were fighting off that rynolt, did you see the darts I was shooting?”
“Yes,” she answered, “I mean . . . not up close or anything.” She timidly added, “I was a little busy.”
Ryannon chuckled and sat back down next to her. “Yeah, I guess you were. Anyway, they're called spike darts. They were the first weapon I ever invented when I was about four years old.”
“Four?” Maggie gasped.
“Uh huh. My father was so impressed, that he immediately recruited an elite group of tutors for me . . . masters in the fields of engineering, weaponry and warfare. Great start for a four year old child, huh?” He seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a moment. “I've been referred to as the 'Brashnellan Minister of Defense' since I was ten. I've developed hundreds of weapons . . . weapons that I was convinced were made for the purpose of defending Brashnell, not for senseless murders. That thing my father used on Linetal . . . it's called a vystoran . . . one of my most deadly and horrific inventions.” He looked down in shame.
“But you didn’t use it,” she tried to soothe, “your father did.”
Ryannon glanced up and their eyes met. Maggie felt as though she was being pulled into his beautiful eyes by a magnetic force. They didn’t say a word as they moved closer and closer to each other. Ryannon lifted his hand and placed it gently on her cheek. Their lips were about to touch when Ryannon stopped, pulled back, and sprung to his feet. “Wait,” he exclaimed, “your father! When did you see him last?”
Maggie shook her head, flustered by the abrupt change of mood.
“Didn't you hear him?” Ryannon blurted. “He said that his spies were on their way to Drolana to get Atoc Jonathan. If the Trystas thought you were Atoh Audril, then they think your father is . . . .”
“DROLANA IS EARTH?” Maggie screeched, also jumping to her feet.
Ryannon nodded. “You've got to get to your dad before they do! Here.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, black metal box. He opened it and took out a tiny, square, wafer-like object and handed it to Maggie.
“What is it,” she asked.
“This is an inhibitor. The only way they can get him here is the same way they got you. An inhibitor will render the receptors useless.” He added, “I went to work on them just as soon as you left me the last time. They haven't been tested, but they're all we've got. It's imperative that the inhibitor be placed first, though . . . before any receptors are. I haven't been able to come up with one that will reverse a prior placement.”
“W . . . wait! What do I do with it?” Maggie was becoming more and more frightened by the second. What if they were already too late? What if Darian's spies had already found her dad? What if they'd already . . . ?
Ryannon could see that she was beginning to panic. “Maggie, it's easy! All you have to do is get him to ingest it.”
“What,” she blurted, “he has to swallow it? How am I supposed to get him to do that?”
“Just drop it in a drink. It dissolves in water.”
“But, what if they already . . . .”
Ryannon put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me. You can't lose hope. When you travel between Dro . . . um . . . I mean Earth and Lor Mandela, it's instant, right?”
Maggie nodded.
“It takes the Travelers hours to get there.”
This did little to calm her. “But . . . but the last time I saw my dad was this morning when he dropped me off at school.”
“Okay, and where did he go from there?”
“To work. Why?”
“Is this work in a public place?”
“I . . . I guess,” she explained. “There are maybe 20 people or so in his office.”
Ryannon smiled. “See now, even the spies among the Travelers are leery of being seen on another world. They won't risk it unless he's alone, and unless it appears that he will be alone long enough for them to do what they need to do.”
Maggie felt a little better but was still teetering on the verge of tears. “Ryannon,” she breathed, “you said they were ordered to kill him on sight. What if they don't bring him back? What if they just kill him there?” Her voice was weak and shaky.
Ryannon looked into her eyes. “They won't,” he assured. “Didn't you hear what my father said? He said that his spies were on their way to Drolana to bring Atoc Jonathan back to him. You saw what he did to Linetal. My father makes it very clear to his generals that if they don't follow his instructions to the letter, they won't live to make the mistake again. They're bringing him back here, Maggie, and I promise, if they happen to get to him before you do, I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe.”
Maggie nodded slowly and blotted a stray tear with her index finger. “Th . . . thanks, Ryannon.”
He smiled, and ran his hand gently down the side of her cheek. “You’re welcome,” he whispered softly. All at once, his face became serious and his breathing heavier, as he slid his hand back from her cheek and through her raven curls.
Maggie’s breath deepened, matching the intensity and rhythm of his. His hand moved through her hair, slowly down her back and wrapped around her waist as he locked her in an intense smoldering stare and leaned towards her.
“Kiss me,” he begged in a breathless whisper.
Maggie’s breath caught in her chest. She moved closer and closed her eyes as she felt his lips softly brush against hers. Time stood still, and everything except the two of them disappeared from the world. She didn't hear the whoosh, or see the flash this time. As Ryannon unwrapped his strong arms from around her and stepped away, she opened her eyes, and was stunned to find that she was standing near the door of the girls' locker room—right where she'd vanished from earlier.
It took her a moment to get oriented; she was in complete emotional overload. Suddenly, she noticed the time on the clock above the door—4:24. Her dad would be leaving his office and heading for home any minute now. “The inhibitor,” she gasped, opening her fist to verify that the little wafer was still there before sprinting out of the locker room and up the steps.
School had been out for over an hour, so the halls were deserted. She burst through the brown double doors and down the front steps.
“Maggie!” Bridgette and Holden raced toward her from the parking lot, but she strategically jumped to one side and kept running—right past them. “Maggie . . . wait,” Bridgette yelped. “Where are you going?”
