Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 29
“How could you, Tabbit? We weren't to be seen, remember?” Tabbit echoed sadly. “Me is sorry, Miss Companions Servant. Mees loves Obeeo!” She hopped up onto the rock and sauntered slowly across.
Kahlie sighed.
“Come on,” Nathan gasped, “they're just kids. You don't think they're tryin' to knock me off do you?”
“If word gets out that you're here, it's only a matter of time. Darian will find out,” she explained. “He has spies all over Lor Mandela.”
Nathan glanced backwards at the three teens whispering amongst themselves, still staring. “Weird . . . .” he muttered as he reached the edge of the rock bridge and stepped out onto it.
Kahlie finally slowed the pace a bit, and made eye contact with him. He knew that he should be concerned that some madman was after him, but he couldn't help thinking just how beautiful she was.
“Listen,” she explained, “I’m sorry that I've been a little demanding, really, but you have to understand. This is serious. On this world . . . Lor Mandela . . . only members of the ruling family Borloc have black hair and blue eyes. Darian thinks you are Atoc Jonathan Borloc, our High Ruler. He thinks Maggie is the Child of Balance. He is planning to use her to gain power and he has already commanded his soldiers to kill you on sight.”
Nathan gulped. Up until now this whole experience had seemed surreal—like a dream. But suddenly it was sinking in. He was on Lor Mandela—not Earth. An army of assassins was after him—or after the person they thought he was—and this Darian character was trying to get to Maggie, too.
“Yeah, okay, Kahlie. I understand. I'll do whatever ya say, and I appreciate you watchin' out for me, but please,” he hesitated, “do not let anything happen to Maggie.”
“I won’t,” she assured. She smiled and patted him gently on the hand—a gesture that caused a most unexpected reaction. A surge of pulsating heat flooded through his body and he felt himself blush from head to toe.
He cleared his throat, and responded in a very deep, manly tone, “Uh, yeah. Thank . . . mm hmm . . . thank you, Kahlie.” He glanced away, hoping the faint daylight that remained was not enough to illuminate his reddened face.
Tabbit giggled.
The trio made their way up from the banks of the river and onto a wide street that wove its way through the tall, pearly buildings. It was now dark out, but the streets were well-lit by small, pale, yellow lights that hung in the trees and larger bushes of the gardens. “What is this place called?” Nathan inquired.
“This is Mandela City,” Kahlie smiled with pride. “Is it like your first city?”
He shook his head, “I don't think there's anything like this on Earth. Least not anything I've ever seen.” He looked down at the street which appeared to be made of large slabs of polished stone, pieced together in a giant glistening mosaic, and then glanced at Tabbit who was swatting at what appeared to be something similar to a lightning bug. The little bug darted just out of reach, but then became distracted by a large ruffled flower that hung from a nearby shrub. As it stopped to investigate, Tabbit slapped her little hands around it and popped it into her mouth.
“Ughhh,” Nathan moaned as he watched a small little lump—obviously the still-alive bug—writhe and wriggle down Tabbit's throat. A few seconds later, and much to his disgust and amazement, the lump reappeared on her big, bulgy tummy. The bug was bumping and banging against the inside of her belly, still trying to escape. This went on for several seconds, concluding with Tabbit jumping up and down a couple of times and belching loudly.
Kahlie noticed his repulsed expression and sniggered.
“What? Is that normal here,” he asked. “Do you eat like that, too?”
“No, of course not,” Kahlie laughed. “Tabbit's a Shadow Squanki. Everything is like a game to them. You should've seen your face!” she giggled, poking him playfully in the shoulder.
“Well, ha ha ha,” he retorted. “I'm sorry! That was just . . . .” Suddenly, he stopped and his jaw dropped open. “Whooooa! Is that the . . .?”
“Mandela Palace,” Kahlie smiled.
They stood at the outskirts of the city, on the edge of a large grassy meadow. The sprawling field was devoid of anything vertical except a large, oddly shaped tree that twisted up just a few feet away from them. Across the meadow, at the base of the mountain, stood Mandela Palace—an amazing structure, easily the size of the entire town of Glenhill. It looked like someone had taken the best ideas of the world's most brilliant architects and combined them into one absolutely stunning work of art. It was a spectacular luminescent white constructed of the same pearly material as the other buildings and embellished with dark, elaborate roofs, intricate window frames, Gothic gable decorations and extensive verandas and balconies. It stood glowing and majestic nestled in a serene, mountainous valley, bordering a sparkling, crystal lake. All Nathan could manage to do was shake his head back and forth.
“You like it?” Kahlie's asked; her question barely registered.
“Like it? I'm . . . uh,” he stammered. “It's well . . . just look at that thing!”
“Good,” Kahlie smiled. “I'm sure it‘ll be a comfortable home for you while we get this mess straightened out.”
“Home?” Nathan muttered as they started across the large expanse of grass.
“Home?” Tabbit repeated, and skittered off toward the palace singing, “You is the atoc . . . You is the atoc!”
“Tabbit!” Kahlie snapped, “That's enough! I already told you. Mr. Baker is not the atoc!”
Nathan chuckled, “That's okay . . . and I'd really prefer it if ya called me Nathan. Mr. Baker sounds so old.”
“Oh, I'm sorry . . . uh, Nathan.”
Tabbit was now almost half way across the meadow—ignoring Kahlie completely—and still bantering on. “Oh, I'm sorry . . . uh, Nathan. Nathan is the atoc, Nathan is the atoc!”
“She's um, somethin' else, huh?” Nathan laughed, “Ya know what's weird?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” Kahlie teased, “you?”
“Oh, ha, ha!” Nathan smirked, and lunged toward her like he was going to grab her.
Kahlie giggled, and took off running.
“Hey! You get back here, Missy,” Nathan insisted.
Kahlie shook her head “no” as she sprinted away. She was pretty fast, but Nathan was faster, and within a minute or two he caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the ground. “Ahhhh,” she squealed, still laughing like a little girl. “Put me down!”
Nathan smiled victoriously and let go. “You are no match for the atox,” he shouted.
Kahlie sniggered. “The atoc,” she corrected.
“Whatever.” Nathan bent over and took a couple of deep breaths. “Whew, I haven't had a good run like that for a while.”
Kahlie wasn’t at all winded. “Yeah, well that didn't stop you from catching me, did it?”
He stood up straight and puffed out his chest. In a deep, formal voice, he proclaimed, “You are a very formidable racing opponent, M'lady!”
All of a sudden, Kahlie wasn't smiling. She looked mortified. “That . . . that is what I do best,” she whispered.
Nathan looked into her serious eyes, and all of a sudden, a flood of memories raced through his mind—flashes of another time—another place. No, not another place, this place! Suddenly he was recalling copious amounts of information—his mother, his father, his friends, his home, the palace, Mandela City, Mystad Lake, Koria, the Mandelan army, the Trystas, Shadow Squanki, Shadow Dwellers—he knew it all! He'd been here before, too. They were in the East Mystad—the field just outside the palace. The field that led to the. . . . “The Anaria!” he gasped. He turned toward the massive tree and then glanced back at Kahlie.
“Kahlie! Oh, Kahlie! I'm back! I'm back!” He grabbed her and lifted her into the air. “Whoohoo! I’m back!” He lowered her to the ground and kissed her cheek, and then, the full gravity of the situation kicked in. Both he and Kahlie just stood there, stunned—panting and gaping at each other in disbelief.
It was Kahlie who spoke first. “But how? You don't look . . . I mean there's a little similarity, I guess, but . . . .”
He was now staring at his shoes and looking quite overwhelmed. “Graci,” he muttered sadly.
Kahlie put her hand on his shoulder.
Just then, the quietness of the field was blasted away by a loud whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
“What's that?” Kahlie yelled between surges.
“Kahlie! Hang on! Don’t let go!” He thrust his hand out toward her and she obediently grabbed a hold. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as the sky filled with a brilliant blue light, followed by a deafening crack, and they disappeared.
They landed with a splash into something warm and wet.
“Whoa! Hold on! Don't move! I'm on my way.” A male voice boomed through the light.
Even if Kahlie had wanted to move, Nathan was holding her so tightly that she couldn't. Despite this, however, she tried to look around to see where they'd been taken.
“Oh no,” she gasped, “Eternity Pools . . . yeah . . . don't move.”
“I know,” Nathan breathed. “Don't panic. We'll figure this out.”
They had been transported to an area just outside of Koria known as the Eternity Pools. The Pools appeared to be nothing more than a group of several ponds of water, but in reality, contained something far more treacherous—Deroxis—a strange, carnivorous plant. When an animal or—in this case—a person happened to land in one of the Pools, the Deroxis took on the appearance and feel of a warm, soothing spring. But, the moment the plant's prey attempted to get out, the Deroxis' leaf-like appendages would spread and wrap themselves tightly around it, smothering it before pulling it down deep below ground and slowly devouring it. The pools were called the Eternity Pools because the myth among the Trysta people was that the process of being consumed would take all of eternity.
Just a few feet away, a young man jumped from spot to spot, skillfully avoiding the deadly Pools. “Hang on, almost there!” he assured as he teetered on a small rock, and then leapt from it. Within a moment, he reached the side of the pool, knelt down and removed a coiled rope from the side of his belt. He quickly tied a few knots and flung the rope out around them. “Don't move a muscle!” he reiterated as he reached out and tucked part of the lasso into Nathan's hand. “Okay, now very slowly . . . take a hold of the rope.”
Nathan carefully rolled his fingers into a fist. His heart pounded as, much to his horror, the water-like substance around him started to ripple.
“Alright, on my order, tense up.” The stranger watched as the tip of a leaf formed near Kahlie's back.
“What? Tense up? We tense up and we’re dead!” she retorted.
“You’re going to have to trust me!” He stood and pulled the rope taut. “Ready . . .” he began, “Now!”
Kahlie and Nathan tightened their muscles. Masses of large, black-green leaves shot upward, momentarily creating a small space around them. The young man flipped the rope, spiraling it around and around Kahlie and Nathan. “Grab it!” he yelled. Nathan clenched his fist. The man had managed to twist the rope into something resembling a noose.
The treacherous leaves spun toward them, and the man leaned back and pulled as hard as he could on the rope. It was obvious that he was strong, but the rope itself seemed to be doing the work now. In an instant, Kahlie and Nathan were pulled from the Pool, just as the lethal Deroxis crashed inward. They landed forcefully on the ground, and rolled to a stop just before sliding into another deadly Pool.
“Whoa!” The young man gave a small tug on the rope and it virtually disintegrated. Nathan brushed the remaining bits of it off, and helped Kahlie to her feet.
She leaned in closely to him and whispered. “Don't say a word. We can't trust anyone, remember?”
Nathan gestured with an inconspicuous nod toward the young man. “Ryannon . . . Darian's son,” he whispered back.
Kahlie's eyes grew wide; she turned and faced Ryannon. “Thank you for your help, sir. We are in your debt.”
“Ah, you must be Maggie's father,” Ryannon smiled. “I’m Ryannon.”
“Ryannon, of course. Yes, as a matter of fact, I am Maggie's father. I'm Nathan . . . Nathan Baker. This is my friend, Kahlie.”
Ryannon smiled and nodded. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, sir. I don't know how much you know.”
“I know that your father has sentenced me to death,” he retorted coolly.
Ryannon sighed. “I'm so sorry. My father is deranged, but I have a plan. I can help you.”
“Really?” Kahlie interjected. “Why should we trust you to help? How do we know that you aren't up to something yourself?”
“I did just save you, didn't I?”
“Kahlie,” Nathan assured, “maybe we should listen. I mean, given the circumstances I don't think we have much of a choice.”
Kahlie looked at him like he was crazy.
“First,” Ryannon began, “you'll need this.” He pulled something from his coat pocket.
“What is it?” Nathan asked.
“Well, since you're here, I can only assume that the inhibitor I gave Maggie didn't work. This new one should do the trick. He placed a small object on the back of Nathan's hand which instantly dissolved into his skin. “There, now. Once you go back home, you'll stay.”
Kahlie gasped. “What! What are you thinking? You can't just put things on people without their permission! Do you have any idea what you've done?”
Ryannon looked at her like a cat that had just caught a mouse.
“Kahlie, it's okay,” Nathan glared at her, wide-eyed. “Calm down. It'll be okay.”
“We really should get out of here,” Ryannon suggested, “I think it would be best if we got you out of plain sight.”
Nathan nodded in agreement. “Lead the way, Ryannon. I have absolutely no idea where I'm going!”
As they cautiously made their way out of the Eternity Pools, Nathan allowed Ryannon to get a little ahead of him and Kahlie, and then grabbed her hand. She looked at him in surprise. With his head, he motioned toward the hand on which Ryannon had placed the object before.
“That was a receptor,” he whispered.
CHAPTER XXXIII
TO CATCH A SQUANKI
Maggie was frantic. She looked at Bridgette pleadingly, grabbed her by the shoulders and yelled, “We’re too late! They’ve got him!” Bridgette was simply trying to process what had happened.
Holden dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and buried his face in his hands. He seemed to be as upset as Maggie; but at this particular moment, she could feel no sympathy toward him. She stomped over to where he was sitting and slugged him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he yelped.
“This is all your fault,” she shrieked. “You did this when you bumped him out of the way!”
“What?” Holden’s face turned red with rage. “Thirteen years!” he bellowed. His voice sounded much older suddenly. “I’ve been trying to get back . . . been stuck on this lousy planet, with nothing more to do than follow you around and keep your butt out of trouble!” He stood from the chair and paced the floor. “I wasn’t even part of your ridiculous . . . I was just trying to help your . . . ugh! I get a chance . . . one stupid chance in thirteen years, and now . . . it’s all my fault? This is what I get for trying to help! Every time! Every time . . . something like this happens!”
Maggie and Bridgette stared at him, mouths gaping and eyes wide.
“I think, Holden that you have a bit of explaining to do.” Maggie insisted calmly, yet deliberately.
Holden glanced from Maggie to Bridgette—who looked like she was in shock—and then back to Maggie. “Listen,” he sighed, “I can explain later, and I promise I will. It’s just right now, there’s not time. We have to figure out how to get to Lor Mandela or your dad’s in real serious . . . .”
“What do you mean, get back to Lor Mandela?” Maggie snapped. “You just said you’ve had one chance in thirteen years, and I can’t exactly control when I have the pleasure of visiting!”
“I know!” Holden barked back, “but we’ve got to figure it out! We don’t have a choice!”
Maggie was about to retort, when Bridgette touched her gently on the forearm.
“Holden,” she began quietly, “what do you suggest we do?”
His reply was not what either of the girls anticipated. “We need a Shadow Squanki.”
“A what?” Bridgette and Maggie quizzed in unison.
“A Squanki,” he repeated. “They create portals between worlds. I’ve been trying to catch one in particular here for years, but she’s been kinda elusive.” The girls’ faces must have shown their confusion, because he was quick to elaborate. “Oh, Squanki are these little creatures that live on Lor Mandela. They come here from time to time to get crickets. Maybe if all three of us keep an eye out, we can track one down.”
“Crickets?” Maggie frowned. “You’re saying that you want us to find a little creature that comes from another planet because we have crickets here? Is that supposed to make any sense?”
“No. It’s not,” he answered abruptly, “but as I see it, we have only two ways to find your dad. One, we find a Squanki and have it lead us to a portal, or two, you get transported back and I make dang good and sure that I go with you. So, for right now, we need to round up as many crickets as possible, and you need to stay very close to me so that if you start to go ‘whoosh, whoosh’ again, I can grab on and enjoy the ride!”
“But where are we going to get crickets?” Bridgette asked blankly. She felt like she was in some sort of weird, illogical dream and that at any moment her mom was going to come in and wake her for breakfast.
Holden smiled at her. “Well, usually I just look under rocks, or around wood piles and stuff. C’mon, we’ll have to find a bunch if we want to attract a Squanki.” He moved with determination toward the back door.
“Or,” Maggie interjected, “we could just go to the pet store.”
