Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 36
Glaron’s reply was all too familiar. “The one with the best offer,” he answered.
Audril smiled and shook her head. “Well, then I guess all we need to do is find Tabbit and my dad. C’mon, let’s go.”
Glaron’s eyes saddened. “I can’t,” he began. “I can’t leave Ultara. She needs my help.”
“What? I need your help!” Audril gasped.
“Listen,” he explained, “Just transport to Mandela Palace. I'll stay here and convince Ultara that you’re right, and then come and join you.”
“But what if you can’t?” she pleaded.
“I don’t have a choice, Boo,” he argued. “It’s my duty. Now, get going! I’ll catch up to you in a while. You should be able to transport once you clear the trees out back.
She grimaced and shrugged. “Transport?”
“Audril,” he began, “Wow! That was weird to say. You’re a Trysta heiress. All you have to do once you’re outside get a good run going and shout out where you want to go. You’ll be transported there instantly.” He grinned and added, “And you thought you were the Mistress of Mediocre.”
“But,” She looked into the sparkling emerald green eyes of the person who’d protected her practically all of her life. “I don’t want to leave you here!”
“You have to, Boodle. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of the Trystas. You just worry about everyone else.” He walked to the back of the room and pushed against what seemed to be a tree trunk. It swung to the side, revealing that it was, in fact, a door to the outside.
Reluctantly, Audril dragged herself to the door and gazed pleadingly at him.
Once more, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. “Here.” He handed her a tiny black box. “If you want to stay, there are three of my receptors in there.”
She opened the box and looked down at the three minute orange discs. “What reason do I have to go back?” she asked dropping the receptors into the palm of her hand. “I’m home. This is where I belong, Doc.” She held her hand and showed Glaron as the tiny discs absorbed into her skin. “I guess I’m stuck here now.”
“Be careful,” he grinned, “I care about you guys! I just want you to be happy.”
As he said the words, she mouthed them along with him." I will,” she assured. “See you in Mandela City.”
“You bet, Boo!” he smiled.
Audril turned from him and took off in a sprint. She headed toward a large iron gate that stood at the end of a massive lawn. It gave her some relief to see dozens of thin lines of blue hanging in the air in the far off distance. When she was a few yards away from the gate, she looked skyward and shouted, “New Mandela Palace!”
CHAPTER XLII
BRASHNELL ATTACKS
Audril reappeared outside of Mandela Palace on new Lor Mandela. She ran down the path that meandered from the front steps to the northern bank of Mystad Lake.
It was staggering how different these two clone worlds had become. Since she and Kahlie had created it, this world had revived, thrived and flourished, while it was clear that the old Lor Mandela had been—and continued to be—in a state of perpetual deterioration.
Lining the meadows around the lake, hundreds of people had assembled. Atoc Jonathan stood on a large rock outcropping addressing the congregation. “The Squanki have opened portal fields on the East side of Mystad, north of Koria, and in Westrim. Our generals have been assigned areas to evacuate. I assure you that they are thoroughly sweeping all of the populated areas remaining on the other world. We are expecting full evacuation no later than sundown. I ask that you all remain patient. You will be reunited with your families shortly!”
“Mag . . . uh, I mean, Audril!” Bridgette shouted from the meadow closest to where she stood.
Immediately, all eyes shifted from the atoc and locked onto her. There was a stunned hush throughout the crowd, but then the area exploded into cheers and applause.
Jonathan leapt down from the rock and ran around the side of the lake toward her. He rushed up and threw his arms around her. “I guess I can call off the hunting dogs!” he chuckled. “I don’t know how you got back here, but I’m so glad you did!” He hugged her again, and kissed her on the top of her head.
After the accolades died down, Audril grabbed Jonathan by the arm, and pulled him back toward the palace. She wanted to make sure they were out of earshot of any of the Mandelans.
“Dad,” she began, “we’ve got a major problem. How many soldiers do we still have?”
“Soldiers?”
She glanced over as a beaming Kahlie came running towards them. “How did you get away? We’ve been so worried about you,” she shouted as she approached. It didn’t take long for Kahlie to notice the concern on both of their faces. “What is it?”
“Ryannon . . . He’s bringing his troops to attack in the morning,” Audril answered.
“Impossible!” Jonathan replied. “How will he get here? All of the portals will be closed long before morning. He would need a couple hundred portals at least to get all of his troops through in any sort of time-effective manner.”
“How many portals have the Squanki created?” Audril asked weakly.
Jonathan looked to Kahlie for the answer.
“Just under a thousand,” she reported.
Audril sighed heavily. “Tell the Squanki to leave them open. This battle has to happen.”
“What? Explain.” Jonathan commanded.
“It’s part of the Advantiere, Dad. If this battle doesn’t take place, the Advantiere won’t be fulfilled, and by this time tomorrow, neither of the Lor Mandelas will still exist.”
“Wait . . . are you telling me that I have less than twelve hours to assemble hundreds of thousands of soldiers who have not been trained in over a year?” Jonathan was clearly troubled by the news.
“We need General Statlen,” Kahlie interjected. “He’s been working with the troops in your absence, sir.”
Jonathan looked at her like she was the most wonderful person in the world. “M’lady, I could kiss you!” Both Kahlie and Audril blushed. “Find him right away!”
Kahlie cleared her throat nervously, and then turned and took off running.
Jonathan placed his hand on Audril’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay, Angel.”
“But, Dad. There’s something else.”
“What?” he asked.
“The Trystas are all on the old Lor Mandela. Ultara wouldn’t believe me when I tried to tell her that the world was coming to an end.”
“You spoke to Ultara? Lortu took you to Ultara?” he fumed.
She waved him off, and explained what had happened and how Ultara refused to fight alongside him—and also about Glaron.
“He altered? But he’s male? I’ve never heard of a Trysta male having altering abilities,” Jonathan mumbled as he contemplated the things he’d been told.
Suddenly, General Statlen came running towards them, followed by Kahlie. “Atoc, we’ve got company! Your permission to mobilize the troops, sir? Now!”
Jonathan trusted Statlen implicitly. If he was asking to move the troops, there was reason for it. “Granted! Meet me at the palace in five minutes!” he yelled back. “Kahlie, what’s going on?”
She took a deep breath and explained. “Ryannon . . . he found the portal field in Westrim. His armies are moving through right now!”
Jonathan sprinted back to the rock platform. “Mandelans,” he boomed over the crowd. "The Brashnellan army is coming through the portals in Westrim. They’re coming to attack! Any able-bodied of you are needed to protect our home! Those unable to fight are to get to safety immediately! Soldiers, report to the palace!”
Immediately, the assembled throng started to scurry.
Jonathan jumped from the rock and walked briskly back to Kahlie and Audril. He noticed Bridgette, hurrying a little boy along toward town and turned toward an elderly man who was shuffling quickly past him. "You there,” he barked.
The man froze in place. “Yes, Atoc?”
“Go to that young lady over there,” he commanded, pointing to Bridgette. "Tell her I need her at the palace and see that the child with her gets safely home.”
“Yes, sir! Right away, Atoc!” The old man shuffled off to do as he was told.
“Dad, Bridgette!” Audril yelled as he approached.
“Don’t worry, Angel. I’ve taken care of it. She’ll be joining us shortly.” He didn’t break stride as he moved past her and Kahlie. They quickly followed behind him toward the palace.
“Dad, what about the Trystas?” Audril ran up alongside him and grabbed his arm. “What about Glaron?” she pleaded.
He stopped and turned to face her. "Listen, Sweetie, the Trystas are very clever, and Ultara is a survivor. They’ll be fine. She’ll work it out somehow. I know it.” His eyes were not at all convincing. He was concerned, and it showed. He took a deep breath, gently lifted her hand off of his arm, and then marched off again.
General Statlen and three other officers—all in full battle armor—greeted them as they reached the stairs at the palace entrance.
“Report,” Jonathan commanded as he continued up the stairs past the general.
“Units one through seven have secured a perimeter around the palace. Eight through twenty are awaiting orders, sire. Approximately sixty percent of troops have reported and messengers have been dispatched to notify the remaining forty.”
“Impressive, general! Thank you.”
Jonathan stopped at the top of the stairs and waited as two of the other officers raced to open the door. “Move eight through twenty to the portal field at the east side of the lake and tell three through seven to join them there.” He looked toward one of the officers who had opened the door—a tall, rugged, battle-scarred, middle-aged man. “Commander, go to the portals. I need the Squanki, Tabbit. I believe she’s still down there. Bring her back to the palace. If you can’t find her, just bring another Squanki . . . go!”
The commander bowed and sped away.
General Statlen remained, staring at Jonathan in disbelief.
“Yes, General? You have something to say?” Jonathan pressed.
Audril couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly he had resumed his role as ruler.
“With due respect, Atoc,” the general began, “shouldn’t we be moving toward Westrim . . . to stop them? The last time we were attacked here it was a blood bath.”
“General, there are roughly fifteen million people on Old Lor Mandela who haven’t come through those portals yet.” Jonathan hesitated and put his arm around Audril. “The atoh—who as you know is referred to in the Advantiere as the Child of Balance—has seen in a vision that the destruction of Old Lor Mandela is imminent. If my daughter had the power at the last battle to actually create a planet, I am not going to question her, and neither should you. When Tabbit arrives, I am going to instruct her to destroy the portals near Koria. You will send units one and two to Old Lor Mandela to complete the evacuation. Tell them it doesn’t have to be neat, just fast! All other units will join us at the portal field.”
“We’re going to bring millions of people in through one portal field?” This time it was Kahlie who was questioning his plan.
“If we keep the Koria portals open, at least half of our units would have to be sent there to protect the people coming through. Ryannon’s army is bigger than ours, I’m sure of it.”
He looked to General Statlen, who nodded in agreement.
“If we divide, we won’t survive.” He paused as if planning his next words carefully.
“Statlen, we have to stand strong as a people, we’ll need anyone who can to fight. Send those who are unable back to town and equip the rest with weapons. Keep your troops on the south end of the lake, between Westrim and the east fields. Our priority is to guard those portals and get our people through safely!”
Just then, Bridgette burst into the room. “They’re coming,” she blurted. “We can see them on the hills!”
“General! Go!" Jonathan commanded.
Bridgette huffed and panted. "There . . . there’s so many of them,” she sputtered.
“Follow me, girls,” Jonathan instructed, leading them out of the foyer and to a room that was full of weapons and armor in all shapes and sizes.
Bridgette and Kahlie each were given a sleek, dark charcoal grey suit that looked like smooth stone, but weighed next to nothing.
Bridgette picked up a weapon that resembled a bow and arrow. “I did take first in archery at Camp Hideaway,” she smiled.
Kahlie, of course, reached for a sword.
“Audril, here." Jonathan handed his daughter a suit similar to the others, but with some very distinct differences. A bright silver, ornate metal work scrolled intricately around the neckline, forming a plate of hard steel that wrapped around the mid-section; the sleeves extended into mesh gloves at the end. In the center of the abdominal shield, was an etching—a picture of a beautiful, glorious angel. “This was your mother’s,” he sighed, “it will protect you.”
Audril took the suit and climbed into it. She grabbed a sword and looked to Jonathan who had just clicked the last buckle into place on his armor.
“Get to the portals,” he ordered, hugging her tightly. “Bring our people home safely, Atoh.”
Audril smiled, but worry was present in her eyes.
Jonathan turned his attention to Kahlie. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Kahlie,” he pleaded. Kahlie gasped as he spoke the exact words that Gracielle had just before the last battle. “Don’t worry. I . . . I won’t,” she stammered.
Without another word, Jonathan grabbed her by the arms, pulled her to him, and kissed her squarely on the lips. “Don’t let anything happen to you, either,” he grinned, as he ran the back of his gloved hand gently down her cheek.
Bridgette giggled, and Audril smiled.
“Now, go on girls!” He took a deep breath, and then added, “I’ll join you after I speak to Tabbit.”
CHAPTER XLIII
THE BATTLE OF LOR MANDELA
The fighting was already in full swing when Jonathan appeared at the northeast side of Mystad Lake. With him was a full contingent of soldiers. The Mandelan Army had lined up a barricade at the west end of the lake, but the Brashnellans were slowly breaking through.
Audril, Kahlie and Bridgette were hurriedly pulling people through the portals. Those who were willing and able to fight were sent immediately to the Fifth Unit to receive armor and weapons. Those who weren’t able were quickly escorted out of the meadows and back to Mandela City.
Audril had just looked up and realized Jonathan was approaching, when suddenly, all hell broke loose. The Brashnellan Army made an aggressive push forward, broke through the line, and burst out onto the field. Ryannon’s soldiers, as though trained to do it, immediately headed for anyone who wasn’t armed. Every Mandelan who had weapons was forced to come to the aid of those who couldn’t defend themselves. Audril, Bridgette and Kahlie rushed to the other side of the field, leaving the people at the portals to come through into the chaos of a full-fledged war.
Adding to the tumult, the people coming through the portals began screaming and yelling. Those who had already come through the portals were frantically reaching back, yanking others from the old world as fast as they could.
“What is it?" Bridgette shouted. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll find out!” Audril responded, as she stabbed a Black Warrior. She pushed him to the ground and sped across the field.
Jonathan and his soldiers reached the portals just a moment before she did. “It’s flooding!” he yelled. “They say there’s a huge wave!”
At that moment, she realized that the vision she’d been shown by Lantalia wasn’t symbolic or a warning. It was an actual, literal fate. The water was streaming into Old Lor Mandela and it was minutes away from real destruction. “Dad,” she shrieked, “we have to get them through!”
As the battle raged on behind them the Brashnellans began to cheer and point at the sky. There, about twenty feet in the air, perched on the massive pewter back of Syltar, was Ryannon. He flew overhead, raining vystorans down on the Mandelans below. They dropped to the ground in droves writhing in agony before dying.
“Stop him!” Jonathan yelled toward his troops. “Take him down!”
The words had no sooner left his lips than an arrow swooshed through the sky and pierced into Syltar’s side. Jonathan glanced toward the direction from which the arrow had come, and saw Bridgette holding her bow up high. She quickly reloaded, and launched another arrow, this time narrowly missing Ryannon’s head.
“Ugh,” she sighed and stomped her foot, “how’d I miss that?”
Syltar shrieked out in pain and squirmed and twitched. The giant creature’s cloak-like black wings slashed through the air as it twisted suddenly to the side with such force that Ryannon slid off and fell hard to the ground. Syltar plummeted to the ground landing in a loud thud just a few feet away from Ryannon.
This would have been the opportune moment for the Mandelan soldiers to capture Ryannon, had something completely unexpected not happened. The very second his body hit the ground there was a brilliant blast of light, and Old Lor Mandela flashed into view—suddenly visible—floating alongside East Mystad Field, right where the portals had been. It was as though the hundreds of small portals suddenly combined into one enormous planet-sized portal—one that didn’t expand or collapse, but stayed constant and wide open. Hundreds of thousands of shocked people stood at the edge of Old Lor Mandela staring at the near mirror-image that had appeared before them. Hundreds of thousands of shocked people stood on the battlefield of New Lor Mandela staring back.
Audril looked toward the distant hills and mountains of Old Lor Mandela. There, swelling behind them was a colossal, thundering wave.
“Run!” A general aiding in the evacuation on Old Lor Mandela bellowed with all his might.
Everyone on the old planet broke into a full run, barreling through to New Lor Mandela in an attempt to flee the giant wave that was now cascading over the hilltops, and crashing into the valley below.
