Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (36 page)

Holden had once again stunned Maggie. He was
her ally, and despite what happened next, she knew that it would be
better to face Bridgette with him there than it would be to do it
alone.

Slowly, she opened the
door. Bridgette was facing her, and Holden, having had his back to
the door, turned to face her as well. There was silence for a
moment—but then a
whoosh
and a crack—and Maggie disappeared…right in front
of them.

I
n a dim, misty cave with a roaring river running through the
center, Maggie materialized with a pop. This was, once again, a new
and unknown place. Just to her left, a tall, pointy, stone pillar
seemed like the logical thing to dodge behind—just in case she
turned out to be in unfriendly territory again. She glanced around
the pillar toward the river. Neither Ryannon nor Kahlie were
anywhere in sight; but she did spy what looked to be a chair of
some sort, made out of twisting, mangled tree branches, perched on
a platform, facing out into the cave. Suddenly, the branches of the
chair moved. Maggie pulled back behind the pillar, but only far
enough to hide herself a little better. She watched from her
sheltered location, as a cloaked figure stood up from the chair and
walked to the edge of the platform.

“It's useless for you to hide from me,
Lortu.” A woman's voice—deep, rich and silky—floated out from under
the cloak. “I can sense Shadow Dwellers, surely, you know
that.”

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.