Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (47 page)

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.

“
W
hy, 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?”