Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 31
Maggie opened her mouth, but no words came out—only a tiny squeak.
“Well?” Dallin insisted.
She couldn’t answer; she was dazed and disoriented. After a few dumbfounded moments, she snapped back into reality, suddenly aware that precious time was wasting. In her head, she commanded herself to get it together.
“I . . . I’m sorry to intrude,” she began. “I don’t know how I did that . . . something about Trystas and receptors . . . but I have to find my father right now. It’s an emergency! So, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned and looked around in an attempt to find the door.
Now, it was Dallin who was in a daze. Other than the tight curls that cascaded over her shoulders, this girl was the spitting image of Gracielle! And, not only did she look like her—a lot—but she sounded like her, carried herself the same confident way, and seemed to have the same mannerisms.
“Who are you?” he asked again; only this time it was as though he would cease to exist if he didn’t find out.
His pleading manner made Maggie uncomfortable. After all, here she was in a stranger’s house—someone with whom she’d unwillingly found herself in a lip-lock—and he was acting really weird.
“Uh,” She started backing slowly around a corner into another room. “I’m sorry! I, uh, gotta go.” She bolted for the door at the other side of the room, and flung it open. She was not two steps outside, when she realized that she had no idea where she was, or where she needed to go next. There was nothing but fields and hills around her—nothing at all that she’d seen before. She stopped in her tracks and sighed deeply, knowing that she was going to have to ask the strange man inside for directions. She turned around and was startled as he came barreling out through the door.
“Wait,” he panted, “let me help you.”
She nervously looked down at her toes and conceded. “All right, I guess, since I have no clue where I am.”
Dallin smiled and tilted his head toward the hill next to his house. “You’re in Westrim. I’m Dallin . . . Dallin Doone, and you are?”
“Oh, I’m Maggie Baker.” For the first time since materializing, she stopped to notice Dallin’s face. He was younger than she originally thought—possibly in his early twenties—but his countenance was care-worn and rugged. His brown, curly hair was messy and a little on the long side, and his chin was covered in scraggly, untrimmed whiskers. Despite this apparent lack of personal grooming, however, his eyes were bright, and his smile was quite nice.
“I really am sorry that I popped in like that,” Maggie blushed. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“No worries,” Dallin assured. “So, you need to find your dad? Any ideas?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m pretty sure he’s here on Lor Mandela, but I don’t know where. He’s in really huge trouble, though. Do you know who Darian is?”
“Whoa!” Dallin replied, thoroughly taken aback by her question. “What do you want with that slarp?”
“How ‘bout his head on a stick,” Maggie sneered. “He thinks my dad is your missing atoc guy. He’s ordered his army to kill him on sight. If anything’s happened to him, I’ll . . . .”
“What? Why would he think your dad is the atoc?” Dallin’s insides knotted at the thought of what Darian might do to anyone he believed to be Jonathan.
Maggie lifted up a curly lock of her hair, “Black hair . . . blue eyes,” she explained. “I’m just hoping Kahlie found him and is keeping him . . . .”
“Kahlie?” Dallin interrupted. Suddenly his expression turned bitter. “I should’ve known!” He turned away and headed for the house. “Find your dad yourself!” he called back angrily as he stormed inside and slammed the door.
Maggie was shocked by his outburst—and livid! How dare he! She walked right over to the door, and ripped it open. “What was that about?” she yelled into the darkness. “Dallin! Dallin! Get back out here!”
“No!” his voice called back. “You and Kahlie have had your fun, now leave me alone!”
Maggie made her way into the house. “Where are the blasted lights in here?” she seethed as she fumbled through the room. “What are you talking about? Owww!” She smacked her shin on the edge of a small table and almost fell over. There was a faint click followed by light—dim at first, but gradually brightening, to softly illuminate the whole room.
Dallin stood next to the wall across from her. “How did you do it? Are you a Trysta?” he asked calmly, yet Maggie could sense that he was still pretty angry.
“No, I’m not,” she answered. “I’m from Earth, or . . . or Drolana?”
“Did she think that because you look like . . . .?” He continued as though Maggie’s comments hadn’t registered. “Is this some sort of sick plot to get me to come back to the palace?”
“Listen, Dallin,” Maggie retorted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Kahlie doesn’t even know I’m here right now. But I really, really need your help!”
Dallin studied Maggie’s face. She was so beautiful. He wanted to help, but his pride and his fear were too strong. “I’m sorry,” he muttered sadly. He turned around and without another word, retreated down a hallway into the dark.
Maggie felt an overwhelming surge—panic, anger, and frustration. Her chin quivered and tears welled in her eyes.
“Fine!” she screamed toward the hall. “I’ll figure it out myself! Thanks for nothing!” She turned on her heels and raced out of the house. She looked around, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and started across the field in front of her. “Jerk,” she hissed, “who needs ya?”
She was just reaching the edge of the field, when, much to her relief, she saw a familiar sight in the distance—the big swaying trees that lined the forest with the tall narrow mountain behind them. “Yes!” she sighed. It was starting to get darker, so the sight of anything recognizable was a comfort. Maybe—she anticipated eagerly—Kahlie would be close to where they had met before. Maybe her dad would be there too. She took off running, hoping with everything in her that her hunches would prove correct.
By the time she’d crossed the meadows and fields she was out of breath and the last glints of sunlight had given way to a starry night. “Kahlie?” she panted, “Dad?” There was no answer. The only sound was a faint buzzing, presumably the noises made by bugs. “Great,” she huffed, “so, now what?” She looked at the softly swaying branches of the trees, and then back at the large meadow behind her. You’re nuts to go into a forest at night, the logical part of her mind cautioned. “Maybe, I’ll just take a peek,” she justified. She reached out toward one of the trees, and the curtain of branches parted and swung upward. Cautiously, she leaned in and squinted. As she lifted her foot to take a step, she felt someone grab her around the waist from behind. She screamed and struggled to get away.
“Stop it! What do you think you are doing?” Dallin’s familiar voice boomed. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?”
Maggie didn’t stop struggling, and Dallin didn’t let go. “You stop,” she insisted. “Put me down!”
“You got it,” Dallin snipped, and pulled his arm back let go.
Maggie almost fell over frontward. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?” She turned around and gave him a shove on his shoulders.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” Dallin retorted. “I had a feeling you’d try something stupid! Goin’ into the Sybran at night? You were walking right into the Shadow Bogs! What were you thinkin’?”
“I am trying to find my dad! Do you think some lame forest is gonna stop me? My dad’s life is at stake,” she retorted. She was unbelievably grateful that Dallin had come, but there was absolutely no way she was going to show it.
“Then let us try using our brains, shall we? You can’t help your dad if you’re dead!” Dallin snipped back. He was unbelievably grateful that Maggie was all right, but there was absolutely no way he was going to show it.
“Fine!” Maggie flipped her hair indignantly. “What did you have in mind?”
“We need a Shadow Dweller.” He dropped a backpack from his shoulder to the ground. “I just hope I brought enough.”
“Enough what?” Maggie watched as he unfastened the loop at the top of the bag. “Wait," she exclaimed. "A Shadow Dweller? One of those freaky, white-haired things? Like that, um . . . Lortu?”
“Lortu?” Dallin chuckled nervously. “Yeah, just like that Lortu. He would be a good one to have helping us.”
“Why do we need one of them?”
Dallin explained, “Shadow Dwellers know things. They see everything. They probably know where your father is right now.”
“Really,” Maggie exclaimed excitedly, “well, let’s find one then! Where do they live?”
“It’s not that easy.” He flipped open the top flap of the pack, revealing what appeared to be softball-sized diamonds.
“Whoa. What are those for?” Maggie leaned down to get a better look.
Dallin flipped the bag shut again and explained, “Payment. Dwellers only help if it profits them. They are only loyal to . . . .”
“The best offer,” Maggie interrupted, remembering that Lortu had told Ultara that she was his best offer—when she offered to absolve his life debt if he brought her Audril.
“Exactly,” Dallin continued, pulling the backpack up to his shoulder. “Dwellers live in an area of the Sybran known as the Shadow Bogs, just beyond those trees there. They use these things to hypnotize their victims.”
“What? Their victims?” Maggie’s stomach lurched.
“Yeah. These are grazixs. You look at one long enough, you’ll walk right into a rynolt’s mouth if you’re told to. The Dwellers love ‘em. They like to tease their prey before they kill.” He signaled toward a rock outcropping and headed toward it. Maggie stayed right on his heels. She was feeling more than a little uncomfortable now after hearing about Shadow Dwellers.
“Ya ever been in a place so dark that you can feel the weight of the darkness?” he asked quietly. “That’s the Bogs. There’s no light at all. Ya can’t see anything but black . . . cold, heavy, black. Dwellers and Squanki are the only things that can see in there. You do not want to go into the Bogs at night! Squanki are harmless, but Dwellers will catch you, hypnotize you into doing whatever they feel like, and then kill you without even thinkin’ about it.”
“Oh come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” Maggie gulped, “Isn’t there anyone else who can help?”
“Relax! We’re safe as long as we have these grazixs,” Dallin assured. “Just keep your eyes on the shadows.” He set the pack on the rocks and slid down to the ground. He patted the soft grass next to him, signaling for Maggie to take a seat. Reluctantly, she sat down next to him and together they waited.
After several quiet moments, Maggie decided to try to alleviate the awkward silence.
“So, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Dallin looked at her suspiciously. “Okay. What?”
“Well, I was just wondering why you hate Kahlie so much.”
He glanced down at the ground. “Hate Kahlie?” he repeated. “I don’t hate her. She’s actually my only friend.”
Maggie was surprised. “What? Then why did you get so upset when I mentioned her name earlier?”
Dallin sat quietly for a moment. Maggie thought perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds, but then he explained, “When I was a kid, my parents both got sick and died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maggie muttered.
“Yeah, well, at the time, it was horrible, but I eventually learned how to be okay on my own.” He continued, “Then, ‘bout a year ago, I lost someone else who I cared very much about, actually, someone who looks an awful lot like you.”
“So, what does that have to do with Kahlie?” Maggie pressed. She understood that he had to be talking about Gracielle.
“I guess I lost it. I didn’t want to get close to anyone ever again. I pushed Kahlie away. She was like my sister, but I was afraid if I went on being her friend, something bad would happen to her too!” He became agitated as he continued. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about has been taken from me! My parents, Atoc Jonathan, everyone!”
It intrigued Maggie that he wouldn’t mention Gracielle’s name; he was obviously in love with her.
“When you said that you knew Kahlie, I just assumed that she sent you to get me to come back to the palace.”
“Because I look like Gracielle?” Maggie tried.
Dallin’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, so you know about Gracielle,” he sighed.
“Uh, not really. Just that I look like her. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to her?” she quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Dallin glanced down at the ground. “She was killed at the battle,” he mumbled.
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie tried to comfort. “That must’ve been so hard for you.”
Dallin just nodded in response.
“Listen Dallin, Kahlie didn’t send me . . . nobody did. She doesn’t even know I’m here right now.” She paused, and then asked, “Do I really look that much like her?”
Dallin looked deeply into her blue eyes, and studied her face. A strange knot twisted and turned in the pit of her stomach as he leaned a little closer. “Yeah,” he breathed quietly, “you look just like her.”
Maggie quickly glanced away and locked her gaze on the swinging branches of the trees. Suddenly, she spotted something moving. “Uh, Dallin,” she started nervously, “I think we have company.”
The silhouettes of the trees were waving and rippling oddly. One at a time, Shadow Dwellers began to materialize out of the shadows cast by the massive trees. Within seconds, roughly thirty of them were standing at the edge of the forest. In the center of the group was a familiar being.
“Lortu,” Maggie gasped.
Dallin looked at her and whispered, “Stay close.”
“Wat ees dis?” Lortu oozed in his deep rhythmic voice. “Whay do you deesturb the Shadow Dwellerz?
Maggie looked around at the group of strange, unearthly creatures. Their wild hair waved and floated around their heads. They all had light, glowing eyes and their grayish skin was scantily covered by battered animal skins. The scene was like something straight out of a fantasy movie.
Dallin bowed. “We bring an offering and ask for your help, wise Lortu.”
“De girl?” Lortu looked directly at Maggie like she was a trophy to be won. “Ees dis da famed Maggie Baker?”
Maggie gasped.
“Yes,” Dallin replied, “she is looking for her father.”
Lortu started laughing wildly, followed by the rest of the Shadow Dwellers. “Aye am shooa she ees!” he rolled. He waved his scrawny arm skyward and in a blinding instant, the Shadow Dwellers surrounded Dallin and Maggie. They swooped around them, disappearing and reappearing as they moved in and out of the shadows. Where there had been perhaps thirty Shadow Dwellers before, now there were hundreds—circling rapidly, in a creepy, riotous frenzied blur.
“Dallin!” Maggie cried out, only to come face to face with a wide-eyed, cackling Lortu. He tilted his head back and forth, laughing, and held up Dallin’s back pack in front of her. “We ees not needing heem anymore!”
“Hang on!” Dallin called back. She couldn’t see him at all through the chaotic horde.
She made a grabbing motion toward the bag, but both it and Lortu vanished; she caught a glimpse of him again as he tossed the bag to another Dweller. Suddenly, she felt something wrap around her legs, followed by the unmistakable realization that she was being hoisted into the air. “Dallin!” she screamed wildly. She waved her fists frantically, hoping to make contact with whatever had a hold of her—and make contact she did. With a thud, her fist bashed into the bare back of the Shadow Dweller holding her over its shoulder. From the maniacal laugh that followed, she realized that it was Lortu. He hefted her a little further on, like she weighed nothing at all, lowered his other shoulder so that his arm was nearly touching the ground, and then, followed by the entire multitude, took off in a breakneck gallop toward the trees.
“Maggie!” Dallin yelled as he watched them carry her off. He started running as fast as he could after them. “Maggiiiieeee!”
She could see him chasing and watched in horror as a small group of Dwellers stopped to restrain him. He kicked and flailed his arms trying to break through them to get to her. The last clear vision she had was Dallin hitting one of them right in the face and then everything became pitch…black…dark.
They had entered the Bogs. The darkness was just as Dallin had described—so overwhelming, so heavy and thick, that Maggie found herself gasping for breath. Her heart pounded so hard that it felt like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest.
As they moved further into the heavy gloom, she heard a silky smooth female voice. “Lortu, whay ees we not taken heir to Ooltara?” They were moving extremely fast, yet the voice didn’t falter in the slightest.
“De Trystas ees not maye best offer,” Lortu replied, also with an eerily steady tone. “Aye ‘ave bettair plans for ‘er!”
Lortu’s answer produced horrific thoughts of being hypnotized, tortured, molested, and brutally murdered. She felt like she was being held under water—thick, suffocating, black water. Her lungs burned as she sputtered and panted, groping for air. Finally, sheer terror, exacerbated by hyperventilation, consumed her, and the darkness of the Bogs was replaced by the darkness of total unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XXXV
YOAH FATE
Dallin fought vigorously to break free from the Shadow Dwellers. It was only after several minutes of hitting and kicking that he realized, aside from one of them holding him by the arm, they were not fighting back. Three other Dwellers were simply standing off to the side of the meadow, watching him pummel their companion. This caught him so off guard that he stopped for a moment and just stared, bewildered at them.
“Eef yoah ah feenished,” one of the observers began, “we ah tryeeng to ‘elp de Borlocs, and you ah deelayeeng us.”
