Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (33 page)

“Kahlie,” she went for broke, “who is it,
exactly, that you think I am?”

“You are Maggie, correct?” Kahlie
smiled.

“Yes,” Maggie smiled back “but, why did you
call me Your Majesty and Highness?”

“Because . . . well, at first I thought you
were the ator . . . I mean . . . because you are a Borloc, of
course.”

“What’s a Borloc?”

Kahlie’s mouth gaped open. She was
speechless for several seconds. “Well,” she finally began, “wait!
How can you not know what a Borloc is? You are one!”

Maggie grimaced. “Kahlie, I really have no
idea what you’re talking about.”

“A Borloc! You know? Guardians and rulers of
Lor Mandela,” she yelped, gesturing excitedly with her hands.

“Rulers? Yikes! Hold on a second! I already
told you! I’m just an ordinary teenager from Iowa. What on Earth
makes you think that I am one of these . . . these Borlocs?”

Kahlie took a couple of deep breaths and
calmly continued. “You have black hair.”

Maggie grimaced again.

“And blue eyes?” Kahlie waited for Maggie to
respond. Maggie waited for Kahlie to say something that made
sense.

“You really don’t know what I’m talking
about, do you?”

“No, Kahlie. I don't. What do my eyes and
the color of my hair have to do with anything?”

Kahlie’s smile returned. It was warm and
compassionate now. “I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s just that, well . . .
only Borlocs have black hair and blue eyes.”

Maggie chuckled, “You’re kidding, right? I
can think of about half a dozen or so people in my school alone
with black hair and blue eyes.”

“Really?” Kahlie was awestruck. “How is that
possible? Where did you say you’re from again?”

“I’m from a small town in Iowa.”

“I’m not familiar with Iowa. Is it near
Koria?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

Maggie decided to lay it all out in the
open. She hoped that her experiences might seem normal and have a
logical explanation in this place.

“Kahlie,” she started, “there’ve been some
really bizarre things happening to me.”

“Well, yes, just the fact that you don't
know you're a Borloc seems a bit odd.”

Maggie frowned.
Borloc, schmorloc!
She
thought to herself.
Jeez lady! Give it a
rest!
She proceeded to tell Kahlie about
all of the weird things that had happened that day.

She longed for answers, but judging from the
puzzled look on Kahlie’s face, she wasn’t going to get them.

“So, you have no
idea
why
you're
here?” Kahlie asked.

“Oh,” Maggie moaned, “so, I guess you don’t
get it either. I kinda hoped you’d understand all of this better
than I do.”

Kahlie shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry,”
she tried. She could see that Maggie was disappointed and
desperately wanted to help. “You know what, though? I’m sure the
answers are here somewhere. We’ll just have to keep our eyes
open.”

“Yeah,” Maggie sighed. “So . . . where on
Earth am I?”

“Earth?” Kahlie inquired innocently. “What’s
an Earth?”

Maggie just stared at her.
Slowly—and quite frightened of what the answer would be—she asked,
“Wh . . . what is
your
planet called?”

“Planet?”

“World?” she tried again.

“Yeah, I know what a planet is,” Kahlie
answered. “Are you telling me that you’re not from Lor
Mandela?”

“Lor Man Whatta?”

“This world . . . Lor Mandela,” Kahlie
explained. “Maggie! This is extraordinary!”

“I don't understand. I'm not on Earth,” she
mumbled in horror. “This is not extraordinary, Kahlie! This is
terrible! I don't want to be on Lor Whatever! I want to go home!
Now!”

“Okay, just calm down. We'll figure this
out,” Kahlie soothed as she took Maggie by the hand. “We should go
to the Transendar. Yeah, of course! Come on! If there's any
information on the things that have been happening to you, we'll be
able to find it there.”

She grabbed the book she’d been reading
and—with Maggie in tow—started for the trees. Maggie had no idea
what Transendar was, but she didn't ask. At the moment, she was
just trying not to cry. Her only consolation was that Kahlie seemed
to want to help, and perhaps because Kahlie was close to her own
age, she felt comfortable with her. She gulped back her tears and
followed Kahlie toward the forest without resistance.

Up close, the trees at the edge of the
forest were more gigantic than Maggie had initially thought—more
gigantic and more beautiful. Although they were imposing, there was
a hypnotic, airy quality to them. The branches swished and swayed
rhythmically back and forth; the silvery leaves sparkled in the
filtered sunlight.

As they approached, the branches stopped
swaying and slowly parted; they rose in the air like a thick, green
stage curtain.

Maggie gasped, but Kahlie smiled
reassuringly so she continued to follow. As soon as they passed
underneath, the branches dropped and began undulating side to side
again, as though nothing had changed.

Each tree they came to did the same. It
would stop swishing as they drew near, and lift its branches
politely so they could pass through. Then the branches would drop
back down and return to their metrical swaying.

When Maggie looked back, all she could see
behind them was a wall of wispy, swinging, green branches.

They moved on, past the mysterious trees,
and down a narrow path. Lacy, exotic-looking orange, yellow and
chartreuse green bushes and more odd rock formations lined the
sides of the path. The bushes shook and rustled as small furry
animals, unlike any Maggie had seen before, darted and scurried
around and in and out of them. Pure white bird-type creatures
floated overhead. They were so bright white that it was difficult
for Maggie to look at them against the vivid blue backdrop of the
sky without squinting. As they walked deeper into the forest, the
path took a sudden sharp turn and opened into another spacious
field.

“Wait! Kahlie!” Maggie burst out suddenly,
“I’ve been here before!” She looked up at the pale green fog that
hung in the air above their heads. “This is the field I came to
this morning—when I was at school!”

“What?” Kahlie looked shocked. “No . . .
there’s no way.”

“No way, what?”

“I think I saw you here! I thought you were
Gracielle. You look just like her!”

“Grass!” Maggie exclaimed. “Ohhhh, you were
calling me Grass . . . or, I guess, Grac . . . ielle? Who's
Gracielle?”

Suddenly, there was a
loud, abrupt
whoosh
and a crackling flash of blue light, and Maggie landed with
abrupt bump that knocked her to the ground. She heard a commotion
of some sort behind her and then felt an arm wrap around her and
someone lift her to her feet.

“Hey! What's the big idea? Let go of . . .
.” She stopped short when she spun around and realized that it was
the handsome, mysterious guy from the creepy field.

He smiled and looked Maggie directly in the
eyes. She attempted to smile back, but found herself quite
paralyzed by his hypnotic stare. He lowered to his knee, all the
while maintaining eye contact and a playful smile.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” He finally
broke his gaze as he reverently bowed his head. “I was hoping we'd
meet again. How are you? Recovered from the rynolt attack last
evening?”

“Um, uh-huh. I . . . uh just . . .” Maggie
stammered. “Please . . . um . . . stand?” For someone who usually
was at no loss for words, whenever she was in this man’s presence,
she found herself with absolutely no idea what to say.

The young man rose to his feet and eyed
Maggie's ensemble.

She gasped and dropped her head into her
hands in disgust. “Oh, my gosh! I don’t normally . . . I mean . . .
I was getting ready for bed and . . . .” She sighed and tried to
straighten her slightly twisted polka-dotted pajamas.

The stranger chuckled and placed his hand on
her shoulder. “Don't worry, Highness. You look lovely.”

Maggie felt herself blush violently. “Yeah,
right,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet.

The stranger gently lifted her chin and
smiled again. “Yes . . . you do,” he insisted.

“Wh . . . who are you?” Maggie pleaded, not
knowing what else to say.

“My name is Ryannon,” he stepped back a bit
in case he was making Maggie uncomfortable. He bowed slightly and
added, “and if you’ll excuse me, Highness, who are you?”

“I'm Maggie . . . Maggie Baker. Do you think
I am a Borloc too?”

Ryannon nodded, “Well, of course, aren't
you?”

Finally! Someone who listened. “No! I'm just
a normal girl.”

Ryannon's amazing smile returned, “I
wouldn't say just normal.”

Maggie gulped. Was it possible that this
absolutely perfect man was flirting with her?

Ryannon motioned toward a large rock
formation indicating that they should sit down. She fussed with her
pajamas again and moved towards the rock.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Ryannon
asked, politely waiting for Maggie to sit before taking a seat
himself.

“Figured what out?” she asked.

“Why you're here?” Maggie must have looked
faint, because Ryannon reached out like he was preparing to catch
her.

“Whatta you mean,” she started. “You know
what's going on with me?”

“Ahhhh,” Ryannon answered, “so you haven't
figured it out.” He flicked a small pebble off the rock next to
him. “I owe you an apology. Well actually, my parents owe you an
apology, though I doubt you'll get it. This is all their fault.” He
grimaced and then added, “Of course, I thought you'd at least be a
Borloc. What were they thinking?”

“Your parents?” Maggie quizzed.

“And their respective bands of lackeys,”
Ryannon looked slightly disgusted.

“What? What do you mean?”

Ryannon explained, “For some reason, my
mother thinks you are the atoh, so she sent her army to put
receptors on you. A couple of my father's spies saw them going and
honed in. They took my receptors.”

Maggie sensed, as Ryannon spoke, that he
wasn't a huge fan of either of his parents.

“See, my mother and my father loathe each
other. They're always at each other's throats! Anyway, the Trystas
supposedly placed one of her receptors on you, and my father's
little puppets placed one of mine.”

Maggie stared at him blankly.

He chuckled and guessed, “You have no idea
what I'm talking about, do you?”

“No . . . no idea at all,”
she whispered. “What's a receptor? And why do your . . .
Wait!
They put something
on me?
” She wasn't whispering anymore. In
fact, she was speaking very loudly and feeling rather mortified
that a strange army of alien spies had put some sort of object on
her without her knowing about it. She searched her arms frantically
for any sign of a foreign object.

“It's okay, Maggie,” he assured, “they're
not dangerous. They were invented to bring Travelers back to Lor
Mandela in difficult situations.”

His explanation did little to calm Maggie,
who felt violated. “It's not okay, Ryannon! I feel like I was just
abducted by aliens!” She bolted up off the rock, and paced wildly,
flinging her arms in the air and yelling. “I was! I was! That's
what this is, isn’t it! And you . . . you probably don't even look
like that! You probably just made yourself gorgeous so I'd feel all
relaxed and like you!”

Ryannon jumped up and followed after her. He
caught up to her and grabbed her from behind by the shoulders. She
spun around and his arms wrapped completely around her. Suddenly,
she was very silent.

Ryannon held her close, looked at her with
his black and red sparkling eyes, and whispered, “Everything will
be fine. I will make sure. Just leave it to me.”

Then, he did something
completely unexpected. He blushed! “Wait!
Y
ou think
I'm
gorgeous?” He stumbled back and
stared down at his feet.

There was a long awkward silence before he
spoke again. “Listen, Maggie. My mother thinks you are the Child of
Balance . . . the one and only person who can restore Lor Mandela.
”

“Restore it? It's a planet. What's there to
restore?” She slipped back down on the rock formation.

“You're kidding, right,” he mused, pointing
toward the creepy, dead forest behind him.

Maggie realized that this was exactly where
she had met Ryannon before, when she had almost been eaten by the
two-headed thing. Just the thought of it sent a chill shivering
down her spine. “So, this place didn't always look like this?”

“No,” Ryannon explained, “about six years
ago, my grandmother did some kind of messed up spell and corrupted
Lor Mandela. Apparently, only the Child of Balance can fix it.” He
came over and sat down next to her. “For some reason, Ultara—my
mother and ruler of the Trystas—thinks you are her.”

“That's ridiculous,” Maggie insisted. “I'm
not!”

“I know,” Ryannon assured, “but she's going
to be looking for you.”

“Looking for me? Why?” Maggie asked
uncomfortably.

“I'm not sure,” Ryannon sighed. “I've never
really met her. My father took me from her at birth so that I
wasn't put to death.”

“What,
” she blurted. “What kind of a place is this? People who
think they can abduct other people and mothers who kill their own
children? Get me out of here!”

Ryannon placed his hand reassuringly on her
shoulder. “Listen, Maggie . . . you need to know . . . Ultara isn't
the only one you have to worry about!”

A sick emptiness twisted through Maggie's
insides. She didn't know what Ryannon was going to say next, but it
obviously wasn't going to be good news.