Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 35
“Kahlie, go now!”
She watched as her mother pushed Kahlie toward the closet and a horde of warriors dressed in black burst in through the back door. She watched as her mother’s bright blue eyes began to glow brilliantly, sending three of the warriors screaming to the ground in agony. She saw another warrior drop to the ground—a knife sticking out of the back of his neck. She watched as Kahlie grabbed his sword and started taking down more of the black warriors.
A nauseating, sick feeling twisted through her core. She knew what the next image would be. She didn’t want to watch it again—it had been horrifying enough the first time.
“No,” she breathed, “please . . . not Momma.”
She turned around just as one of Darian’s soldiers thrust his sword downward toward her mother. At that very instant, however, everyone in the room—including Gracielle—suddenly disappeared. Everyone that is, except for Maggie and the warrior who took her mother’s life. His sword continued downward, just as though Gracielle was still there.
All at once, he stopped, looked directly at Maggie, and smiled. It was a smile she’d seen before—a smile that had made her go weak in the knees. She rose to her feet, and looked at his eyes. As expected—black with flecks of glistening red.
“Ryannon!” she sneered.
“Atoh Audril.” He bowed, still smiling, and then disappeared.
Now, she found herself in the room with the big wall of windows where Ryannon had killed his own father. Only this time, there was a plain wooden door standing in the middle of it. There was no wall, no frame, just a door.
She started toward it, not of her own will, but as though a giant magnet was pulling her—drawing her to the door.
She involuntarily raised her hand and pointed her index finger at the door’s base, and a small yellow spark popped out of thin air where she was pointing. She lifted her arm and the spark followed as she traced up one side, across the top, and down the other side. Once the spark had reached the bottom, the door slowly creaked open.
From where she was standing, it didn’t appear that the door went anywhere, except to the other side of the room, but once she stepped through the room instantly changed.
Instead of just being a gloomy, cold, window-lined room, it became a gloomy, cold, utterly destroyed, window-lined room. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Huge chunks of concrete and rubble and glass littered the floor. The windows were almost all blown out, and off to one side, a giant, black crater gaped where stone gray tile should have been.
Slowly, as though she was in a dream, she walked to the big pit. As she gazed down into it, a soft lavender glow rose from its depths.
The light grew brighter and brighter as a faint whisper—labored and strained—lifted from its depths.
“Vrrritessssse, Vrrritessssse.”
As the light intensified, it started to take shape, twisting and churning, before finally condensing into the form of a tall, beautiful woman enveloped in a halo of purple light.
“Hello, Atoh.” She bowed reverently. “I am Lantalia, Vritesse of the Trystas, Daughter of Satia, and mother . . . of Gracielle.”
“Oh . . . um . . . well, I am Maggie . . . from Iowa . . . daughter of Nathan?” she tried.
Lantalia just smiled. “Your memories do not deceive you, my dear granddaughter. Why should you question them?”
“Because they’re not real! They can’t be,” she insisted.
Lantalia pointed toward the other side of the room. There, glowing in bright red was the Advantiere, as though it had just been written there. “Only the Child of Balance can understand its meaning.”
Together they crossed the room to the glistening message.
“What do you see?” Lantalia asked.
Maggie eyed Lantalia like she was crazy, but then reluctantly turned her attention to the glowing Advantiere.
Almost instantly, the bright red letters vanished and a face appeared on the wall.
“Darian,” she whispered. “I see Darian!”
“And now?” Lantalia asked.
Almost as suddenly as the image of Darian had shown on the wall, another face emerged, one that was quite unexpected.
“Doctor Brockman? What could he possibly have to do with all of this?”
“Go on,” Lantalia urged.
The next face to appear was Gracielle’s, followed by a young girl’s. Maggie vaguely remembered playing with this girl as a child.
“Nenia, right? She’s Ultara’s daughter.” Lantalia smiled knowingly.
Ultara’s face was next, followed by her dad’s, and then Ryannon’s, and then Kahlie’s, and finally, her own face appeared on the wall—her reflection—like she was looking at herself in a mirror.
“You’ve seen it with your own eyes, daughter,” Lantalia began. “Now do as your father commanded you . . . and remember!”
With that, images of Lantalia’s eyes replaced Maggie’s reflection on the wall. In each of them a glowing likeness of Lor Mandela materialized. The images were peaceful, active and alive. There were people, and animals, and plants and trees, all living and existing peacefully together.
Suddenly, tears welled in the corners of the eyes, and began dripping in rapid crimson streams down the wall like tears of blood. They flowed downward, almost reaching the floor, but then, all at once, reversed their course and crashed back into the images of Lor Mandela, drowning everything in their path in a sea of red. The flood was swift and terrible—nothing stood a chance. Finally, at last, the waves receded, and the images were peaceful once again.
But just when it appeared that the worst was over, a distant rumbling started to build. As the sound grew, the entire room began to tremble and roll. The noise grew louder and louder, sending chunks of plaster tumbling to the ground from the already unsound walls. Dust rose up from the floor, making the air thick and choking. The images of Lor Mandela shuddered violently as the rumble became a roar, which climaxed in a deafening explosion as both images of Lor Mandela disintegrated into a magenta dust. The force of the explosion lifted the entire room into the air and dropped it, knocking Maggie to the ground.
In an instant, the Advantiere reappeared on the wall, and Lantalia was gone.
Maggie looked toward the pit which, instead of glowing lavender, was now emanating a soft white light.
Again, a weak voice sounded from inside it and lulled Maggie slipped into a deep sleep.
“Find the twinssss. Find the twinsssss. Destruction from twins, and so it must end. Find the twinsssssss.”
Maggie awoke to find herself lying in the half-dead field again, with Bridgette, Kahlie and her dad all huddled over her.
“Are you all right?” Kahlie asked—just as she’d done moments ago in her first vision.
“Maggie, can you hear me?” Bridgette asked.
She bolted upright and looked around at the three of them. “We’ve got to get out of here, now!”
She jumped to her feet and pulled Bridgette up from the ground. “Come on!” She commanded, and took off in a run across the field.
Jonathan, Kahlie and Bridgette followed.
“What is it?” Jonathan tried, “What’s going on?”
“We need to find Tabbit . . . or another Squanki! We need portals! Lots of Portals!”
“What? Why?” he questioned.
She stopped running and turned back to face the three confused people following her. “Kahlie,” she began urgently, “at the battle, you said something, remember?”
Kahlie just stared at her.
“I was saying the words, but they were coming from you?”
Kahlie gasped.
“Whaaaat,” her dad breathed in surprise.
She continued, ignoring him and directing her attention to Kahlie. “We . . . you and I together . . . we created a clone of Lor Mandela.”
“A clone?” Kahlie asked.
“Anika divided the soul of our world. The only way we could save it was to create another Lor Mandela so both parts of the soul could continue to exist, separate from each other.”
“There are two?” Jonathan quizzed. “Of course! That makes sense! No wonder nothing here seems right!”
“Hold on a minute,” Bridgette exclaimed; she had heard enough. This whole experience had just gone from unbelievable to impossible. “Maggie! What are you talking about? You're my best friend! I’ve known you since we were five! How can you be from this . . . this weird place, if you’ve been on Earth with me?”
“Bridgey,” she began, “I know this seems crazy. Believe me, I know. But, I’m not Maggie. I really am Audril Borloc. You’ve just got to trust me! I’ll explain it all later. Right now, there’s just not time.”
She turned her attention from Bridgette to her dad. “This is the appointed time! Right now! We have to hurry, dad! We have to get everyone out of here and on to the other Lor Mandela.”
“Um, even him?” Bridgette’s eyes grew wide as she caught sight of someone moving near the forest.
There, hunched over, pacing side to side to side, and staring at them from across the field, was Lortu.
“What does he want now?” Kahlie asked. “Maybe he has more information about Ryannon.”
“More information?” Audril questioned, “What do you mean?”
Jonathan was the one to answer. “He and his people rescued us from Ryannon. Lortu’s the reason we’re still alive.”
“Hey,” Bridgette exclaimed—shock evident in her tone, “where’d he go?” They all glanced toward the forest. Lortu was nowhere to be seen.
As they all glanced around, a dark form moved with great speed across the meadow. Bridgette jumped and let out a startled scream as Lortu again appeared, this time standing just a few feet in front of them. He began pacing again, and seemed to be contemplating what he should do next. He continued for a second or two, but then shook his head, looked at Jonathan and said, “Maye apologees, Atoc.”
With lightning speed, he grabbed Audril, threw her over his shoulder and sped back across the field.
“No!” Jonathan, Kahlie and Bridgette all yelled in unison. They chased after them, but there was little point. Within seconds, the blur of Lortu and Audril disappeared into the dreary forest.
CHAPTER XLI
A PLEA FOR THE TRYSTAS
“Why, thank you, Lortu. You may go. Your debt is paid.”
Ultara’s silky voice was the first thing Audril heard once she regained consciousness. She hadn’t passed out from fear this time, but rather from her inability to get a full breath while being spirited through the Bogs by Lortu.
Audril felt him lower her to the ground as he whispered, “Zorry, Atoha.”
When she looked up, she realized she was back in Ultara’s throne room with Ultara sitting casually on the edge of the platform in front of her.
Behind her, she heard some commotion and glanced over her shoulder to see Tabbit attempting to grab Lortu by the hair. The little Squanki appeared very agitated as she kicked and swung her tiny fists at him. He, of course, didn’t even flinch. He pushed her away, then leaned over and whispered something in her ear causing her to snarl and swing at him one more time before he faded away into the shadows.
As the last traces of Lortu vanishes, a Trysta guard came from behind the rock wall and took Tabbit by the hand. The strange Trysta stopped in his tracks when he saw Audril, and stared at her like he’d just seen a ghost.
“Lortu tells me that Darian is dead.” It seemed an odd way for Ultara to start the conversation.
“Yes,” Audril breathed, still trying to get her bearings straight. “Ry . . . Ryannon killed him.”
“Ahhh, and now he is after you and your father? Seems to me that he has his priorities straight.”
“What,” Audril blurted, “his priorities straight? He's nothing but a devious, self-absorbed, murdering monster!”
Ultara didn’t appear fazed. “Are you aware that he is going to be attacking Mandela City in the morning?”
“Yes, I am,” she answered. She didn’t know how, but at some point while watching the destruction of both Lor Mandelas in Lantalia’s eyes, she’d realized that an attack was imminent. “I’m not sure how I am supposed to prepare for an attack, though, when you’re holding me prisoner here,” she snipped.
Ultara lowered herself down from the platform and walked over to where she stood. “Aren’t you afraid of me, Atoh?” she asked, studying Audril’s face.
“Should I be? I assume you’re on my side. After all, you just tried to warn me that Mandela City is going to be attacked.”
“I am on my side!” Ultara roared. Her reply was abrupt and charged with anger. “Your side wants me dead!”
She turned and glided back onto the platform and dropped into her tree throne." Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to Ryannon right now!”
Audril’s confidence, which should’ve been deteriorating by the second, was doing exactly the opposite. She stared up at Ultara and calmly answered, “The Advantiere.”
Ultara’s interest was piqued. “The Advantiere? You’ve solved it?” She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “Impossible! You’ve only been here a short time.”
Audril walked near to where Ultara sat and replied, “True, but I’ve been here long enough to know that the appointed time is upon us; I’ve been here long enough to know that there are two Lor Mandelas; I’ve also been here long enough to know that this one, and everyone on it, is on the verge of destruction.” She paused and then added, “If you join us . . . .”
“Never!” Ultara snarled. “I will never fight alongside Atoc Jonathan!”
“What? Why?”
“He conspired with Darian to have me executed! He falsely accused me of a terrible crime, and his stubbornness is the reason your people were attacked in the first place!”
“What? What are you talking about? That’s crazy!”
Ultara’s expression turned to one of disgust. “Get her out of here,” she commanded, motioning to the guard who had been standing quietly at the back of the room. He rushed across the bridge and grabbed Audril by the arm.
“Wait,” she shrieked as she was being escorted somewhat forcefully out of the room. “Ultara! You have to get your people off this world! We need the Squanki to open portals! This Lor Mandela is going to be destroyed!”
Ultara turned away, ignoring Audril’s plea.
Audril shifted her attention to the man who was pulling her along by the arm. “Please,” she begged, “talk to her! You’re all going to die unless . . . .”
“Shhhh! Not here,” he insisted. He led her down a hall and into a small room at the end of one of the tree-lined corridors. He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure they hadn’t been followed, and then closed the door. “Don’t worry,” he started, “we’ll get this figured out.”
Audril eyed the oddly amenable guard and asked, “Why are you helping me? You’re a Trysta, aren’t you?”
The man signaled for her to take a seat on a small bench against a vine covered wall and explained, “Your mother was a dear friend of mine.”
A knowing smile played across Audril’s face, as she recalled a time when she’d heard her mother telling Kahlie about her Trysta friend who was helping her solve the Advantiere. “Glaron?” she guessed.
Glaron rushed over hugged her tightly—a move that was most unexpected. “Wow! I . . . I guess I was right?” she stammered.
“Only partially,” he grinned, as he dropped down onto another bench on the opposite wall, cupped his hands behind his head and leaned casually back. “Dude! You’re like gonna totally blow a fuse here, aren’t ya Blue?”
“Holden?” She jumped to her feet in surprise. “You’re Holden?”
He grinned ear to ear and stood back up; suddenly his expression became more serious. “So, what is all this talk about two Lor Mandelas, and this one being destroyed? And for Heaven’s sake, Boo, have you finally figured out that sometimes boring is good?”
“Doc!” she squealed, “Oh good grief!” This time it was Audril doing the hugging. “That explains it! That’s why I saw you in the Advantiere room! Of course . . . of course! One unknowing moves in haste. That was you! You sent us to Earth!”
“What?” he gasped. “Me? I just sent you there to keep you from getting killed. I . . . I was just trying to help.” He couldn’t comprehend that he, himself, had played a part in the Advantiere
“But by doing it, you fulfilled the second line of the Advantiere,” she exclaimed, giving him another quick hug.
“Oh my gosh! All this time, you were Doc! Doc and then Holden?” she chuckled and added, “And you said you’d never keep secrets from me!”
Glaron smiled and nodded sheepishly. “Well it wasn’t part of my original plan, but when I wound up on Earth with you and your dad, I had to figure out some way to keep you safe. The only thing I could come up with was blocking your memories and altering all three of us. I thought it would be best while I was figuring out how to get us back.”
“Whoa, altering?” she gasped feeling all over her face. “So . . . so then I don’t really look like this?”
Glaron smiled and tousled her curls, “I didn’t change you that much, Boo. I couldn’t bear to! You were so adorable! I just made you look a little older, that’s all. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the best idea, since now you’ve aged like twelve years. I can change you back if you want, but trust me; you don’t want to alter here! It’s a lot easier to go through an altering on Earth.” He rubbed his left arm like it was very sore and added, “Altering on Lor Mandela is an adventure!”
Audril smiled, but then suddenly remembered that there were more urgent matters at hand. “Listen, Glaron, we’ll have to talk about this later. Right now we’re running out of time. Do you know where Tabbit went?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “Lortu told her to get all of the Squanki together and go find your dad.”
“Lortu? Really,” she gasped. The mysterious Shadow Dweller was becoming more of a contradiction to her by the minute. “Whose side is he on, anyway?”
