Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (15 page)

“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.

“Come on! Let's get inside,” she insisted.
They rushed into the cave and followed the path to the Anaria's
main room. Gracielle waved her hand again to seal the entrance.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were
coming,” Glaron breathed. “I thought maybe my note had been
intercepted, or that you’d gone to Westrim.”

“Glaron, what did you figure out?” She asked
in a way that reminded her of the anxiousness that Audril had
exhibited all day. “It's been making me crazy!”

Glaron pulled the little brown book from his
vest pocket and started leafing through it. “Well, you won't
believe my luck, Ator. I was in the Transendar yesterday, when I
came across an extremely old book. You've heard of the Derites,
right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she answered. “They were
a small civilization that existed in Koria thousands of years ago.
They’re the race that supposedly created the Caverns.”

“Precisely,” Glaron exclaimed, “this book
was all about the Derite language. It's fascinating, really. They
used a series of words, combined with gestures and magical tricks,
to communicate.”

“Really?” She’d never heard that.

“Anyway,” he continued, “as I was flipping
through the book, I came across this passage that was talking about
their musical traditions.” He read what he'd jotted down in their
notebook. “It said, 'Solna Elahk Enta.'”

“Elahk?” Gracielle repeated anxiously.

“Exactly!” Glaron beamed.
“It said that translated, this means
music
creates love
.” He paused for effect.
“Elahk means create! I couldn't believe it, but then I started
wondering if any thing else from the riddle was mentioned in this
book, and are you ready?”

Gracielle nodded enthusiastically.

“I found that the letter E
by itself means the same thing as our letter A. So, what we have
here is ‘Elahk
E’—
Create a.”

“Create a?” Gracielle questioned. “Create a
what?”

“Ber, of course,” Glaron sniggered at his
unparalleled wit.

Gracielle frowned at him.

“Hmm mmm, sorry,” he
apologized. “Actually, Ber in ancient Derite means
new
.”

“Create a new . . . create a new . . . Lor
Mandela?” Gracielle shrugged her shoulders. “I don't
understand.”

“Neither did I,” Glaron admitted. “I was up
half the night trying to figure it out. This morning, I took it to
Ultara and asked her what she thought.”

“And?”

“She didn't know at first either, but then
she got that crazy look in her eyes . . . the one she always gets
when she's about to kill somebody or something,” he shuddered.
“Kinda scared me.”

“Glaron!” Gracielle snapped.

“Oh . . . well, she said that she believes
this spell, Elahk E Ber, is what Anika did to start this whole
process, look!”

He pointed at a page in
the notebook. Gracielle followed along as he read,
“One comes swiftly in the morning.
Ultara said that the birth of Anika and Lantalia
was sudden, and fast. Twenty minutes from start to finish. One
birth . . . two infants born early one morning.”