Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 37
Several people fell and were trampled by the stampeding mob. Others were washed away as the relentless wave swept over them. The flood waters rushed across the fields and lake on Old Lor Mandela, colliding with a bang into an invisible barrier that now seemed to be separating the two worlds.
The distraction had given Ryannon the time he needed to recover from his fall. He rose to his feet, and in an unnaturally amplified voice, roared, “Killlll themmmmm!”
The Black Warriors descended on the unarmed Mandelans like wolves, obeying Ryannon’s command and killing whoever they could. Men, women, children, crippled and elderly; it didn’t seem to matter to the ruthless Brashnellan Army.
Panic consumed Audril as she watched the horrible scene unfolding on the battlefield, combined with the mountain of water pounding the invisible wall, washing away the hundreds of people who had not been fortunate enough to have made it through.
Just as panic threatened to render her immobile, someone ran behind her, bumping her on the shoulder as they went by.
“Look out, Blue!”
She spun around to see Glaron engaged in a duel with a Brashnellan soldier.
“Where’d you come from?” she shouted as she moved toward another Black Warrior. “Where are the Trystas?”
Glaron spun around and thrust his sword backwards. It plunged directly into its intended target’s chest. “I don’t know! But don’t worry, they’ll be all right! They can breathe under water for a while.”
He spun to the side to face another attacker and added, “Ultara found out I let you go! I’m in serious . . . Whoa . . . dude!”
A Brashnellan jumped out in front of him with a vystoran sleeve. He dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, just as the Sleeve discharged. The vystoran splattered against the back of the warrior Audril had been fighting, and he collapsed in a shrieking heap.
Glaron wasted no time in dropping both the Warrior he’d been fighting, and the one who had shot the vystoran.
“Glaron! You don’t understand,” Audril shrieked. “It’s about to blow!”
“What? What do you mean?” They were only a few feet apart, but had to yell loudly to be heard over the din.
“Old Lor Mandela!” Audril pointed toward the old planet which was now engulfed in water; a giant liquid wall stretched from the ground to the sky. The invisible barrier, which had been keeping the huge wave from dropping down on top of them, now seemed to be deteriorating, as streams of water began to trickle through the weak spots. The impending annihilation via tidal wave seemed to be having little or no effect on the Brashnellan Army, however. They fought like machines seemingly spurred on by the gloominess of the situation.
Audril glanced over her shoulder to where she’d left Kahlie and Bridgette. They were both battling ferociously—as was her dad. As she watched them, she, herself, was met by an attacker. She fought him off with relative ease and then, seeing that her dad was dueling two Brashnellans at once, took off across the field to help him.
Suddenly, the roar of the water dropped in volume almost down to nothing. Audril stopped running and looked nervously toward Old Lor Mandela. The wall of water was shrinking. The flood was starting to recede!
As the massive wave retreated she noticed that—miraculously—there were still hundreds of people standing where it had just been. They banged and kicked against the barrier, which was all it took. Within just a few seconds, the weakened barrier completely gave way and the frightened crowd moved in a collective run toward New Lor Mandela.
A low rumble sounded in the distance.
“Get off! NOW!” Audril shrieked and bolted toward them. “Move! Move! Get out of there! HURRY!”
Glaron ran up behind her and caught her by the shoulders. “Boo, what’s going on?” he bellowed. “What’s that noise?”
The rumbling amplified.
Audril struggled loose from him and took off running again. “We’ve got to get them out of there! It’s gonna blow! The planet’s going to explode!”
“What?” Glaron gasped. “No! The Trystas!” He broke into a frantic run, speeding right past her.
“Glaron! NO! Get back here!”
The rumbling grew louder and louder and was now shaking the ground like a powerful earthquake. The battle had virtually stopped, as no one could move from the careening spots on which they stood.
The group of soaked Mandelans had made it through, but several of them were now just inches inside and unable to go any further. Glaron fought to get past them but was held back by the swaying planet and the mob of people.
The rumbling became a growl; the growl became a roar; the roar escalated to a ghastly shriek; and then suddenly, in a cloud of choking magenta dust, there was a massive catastrophic explosion.
Glaron dropped to his knees. “Noooooo!” His anguished cry was the last thing Audril heard before a forceful shock wave ripped through the field and sent everyone flying.
Audril barely noticed she’d been thrown. The moment she was able to move again, she pulled herself back to her feet.
“Ahhgghh!” she cried, as a jolt of pain surged through her right leg. It buckled at the knee, and she almost lost her balance and fell over again. She tried to survey the damage, but the air was still clouded with thick dust. What she could see were the dark forms of bodies lying motionless everywhere around her.
As the air finally began to clear, the horrific scene became even more terrifying.
The Brashnellan Warriors were almost all back on their feet, moving together toward one side of the field.
Very few of the Mandelans had regained consciousness.
Audril tried to take advantage of the dust that was still settling by crouching down behind it and moving from body to body, shaking the crumpled forms in an effort to revive them. The pain in her leg was searing and her hunched over posture made it all the worse. It stabbed in throbbing rhythm with each step she took.
“Come on, wake up,” she whispered as she shook a lifeless Mandelan soldier.
“Hey,” came the welcome sound of Bridgette’s louder than necessary whisper. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she fibbed, “my leg’s a little messed up but I’m okay." She shook another body and asked, “Have you seen my dad?”
“Your dad and Kahlie are all right,” Bridgette assured. “They’re doing the same thing you are right now.”
“What about Ryannon?” Audril kept her voice low as she and Bridgette continued their attempts to rouse the Mandelans.
Bridgette opened her mouth to respond just as a sinister, gravelly, angry sound permeated the dusty air. "Where is she?” It was a strange, unworldly voice.
Audril turned and saw Ryannon standing amongst the Brashnellan soldiers at the other side of the field. There was something very different about him now; he had become dark—almost like a shadow—a change that was noticeable even through the clouded air.
“Where is she?” he hissed again, and started in a stagger across the field.
She could only assume he was looking for her.
He lumbered toward her, sword drawn and stabbing everyone with whom he came in contact—including the occasional Brashnellan that got in his way.
“Where is she?” he bellowed a third time.
Just then, there was another commotion near where Ryannon had been standing moments before. Several Brashnellan soldiers were falling to the ground—one by one—victims of a single warrior.
That warrior was Kahlie. She was unbelievable in her skill—twisting and turning—spinning her sword one way and then reversing and flipping it around in another direction. Every move was intentional and purposeful; every thrust of her sword was deadly accurate.
The dark Shadow of Ryannon, which had been moving nearer and nearer to Audril, suddenly stopped his advance. “There!” he shrieked, spinning around and pointing at Kahlie who was systematically slaying his warriors—despite the increasing number of them moving to challenge her.
He stumbled back toward her. “It is my turn,” he sneered. “My turn to kill!”
By now, the air had cleared enough for Audril to realize the full bleakness of the situation. There were possibly a hundred Mandelans left standing amongst what seemed to be ten thousand Brashnellans—and the battle was resuming.
And the hopeless scenario was about to get much worse. A strange sloshing noise echoed through the air echoing from somewhere deep within the lake. The water in the Mystad shuddered and shook and tiny circles rippled across its entire surface. The sloshing became louder and louder and then erupted, as thousands of forceful jets of crystal water streaked skyward.
Inside each jet, a human form was visible. The jets ascended high above the peaks of the surrounding hills and then dropped suddenly, leaving multitudes of Trysta soldiers hovering in the sky where they had been. As the water splashed back onto the surface of the lake, one very large jet shot up from the center and disintegrated in a flash of gold. There, hovering in the air was Ultara, there to lead her Trysta army into battle. The Trystas levitated above Mystad for a moment, and then Ultara shouted, “Lortu! Now!”
On her command, the shadows in Mandela City started to wriggle and move as hundreds of thousands of Dwellers materialized out of the shadows, and slinked slowly and deliberately towards the few remaining Mandelans.
“Oh no,” Audril gasped.
She looked towards Ultara, trying to prepare for what was going to happen next, when Glaron appeared in front of her.
“What’s she doing?” she asked, hoping he would somehow know Ultara’s intentions.
“No idea,” he answered, seeming a little uneasy that the Trystas were there, albeit relieved that they had actually survived.
What Audril saw next made her heart sink.
She just happened to glance over at the dark form of Ryannon who was smiling victoriously. “Yessss,” he hissed, “I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long, Mother!”
Ultara gazed down at him with a stone-cold expression, but then smiled at Ryannon. She turned to Branlor, who was hovering at her right.
He made a nodding gesture and all of the Trystas, with the exception of Ultara, lowered down to the field.
“Use your eyes!” Ultara commanded so loudly that it reverberated off the mountains in the distance. "Finish them!”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Audril repeated.
All at once, a buzzing permeated the air. The sound was similar to the buzzing that Audril had heard in Iowa, back when the Trystas had placed receptors on her.
She watched in horror as the Trysta army fanned out across the field. In colorful intense waves, their eyes started to glow and surge.
Suddenly, hundreds of Brashnellan soldiers collapsed to the ground in pain. The lights in the Trystas’ eyes intensified and the field was filled with the agonizing shrieks of the Brashnellan Army. Any of the Black Warriors who were not being electrocuted by the Trystas were being attacked by the remaining Mandelans…or the nearly invisible Shadow Dwellers.
Ryannon continued to move toward Kahlie. The Trysta assault seemed to have no effect on him.
“How dare she,” he seethed. “No matter! I will kill her still!" It sounded as though he was talking to himself. He looked over to a group of his Warriors who had managed to break away from the Shadow Dwellers and commanded, “Get the atoh! I will take care of her!”
In the blink of an eye, Ultara appeared at Audril’s side.
“Atoh,” she nodded. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
A Brashnellan soldier charged toward them. Ultara raised her hand and he flew backward easily fifty feet through the air.
“I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you, Vritesse,” Audril beamed. “And, I’m certainly glad you’re on our side now!” She watched the warrior that Ultara had just repelled land in a thud on the ground.
“I’ve always been on your side, Atoh. I told your mother I would watch out for you and protect you, and that is precisely what I have done.”
Four more Brashnellans came running up behind them. “Look out!” Audril warned. “Oh, so I suppose that having Lortu kidnap me was for my protection then?”
She took on one of the soldiers, while Ultara handled the other three.
“Of course it was.” Ultara flicked her wrist and one of the Brashnell Warriors stiffened like stone and dropped over backward. “You would have been safe in Koria. But Glaron here kind of threw off my plans a bit.” She leaned her head back towards Glaron who was fighting off Brashnellans behind her and added, “. . . yet again.”
Glaron smiled sheepishly. He kicked his foe in the stomach, causing the warrior to double over and drop to the ground. He leaned back and playfully gave Ultara a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry, Vritesse,” he chuckled, “I was only trying to help!”
She shook her head and continued to toy with the one Brashnellan soldier of the three that was still left standing.
As she sent him zooming through the air, at least twenty more raced toward Audril.
“Lortu! Time for you to have some fun,” Ultara yelled loudly.
In a flash Lortu was with them, fading in and out of shadow, confusing and tormenting the Brashnellans.
“’Ello, Atoha,” he hummed, bowing as he passed in front of Audril. “You zee?" He grabbed a warrior from behind and hurled him through the air right into another one. “De Vritessa is steel maye best offer.”
Before long the Brashnellan Army was on the run. They were clearly no match for the Trystas, the Shadow Dwellers and the remaining Mandelans, many of whom had regained consciousness and had gotten back into the battle. Furthermore, several of the Shadow Squanki, including Tabbit, had come to fight for Mandela.
But now, a new problem was developing. Water—and not just a little of it—was seeping up through the ground, rising rapidly, and washing in strong waves over the bodies that remained on the ground—carrying them away toward Mystad Lake. New Lor Mandela was beginning to flood.
Ultara floated into the air, along with many of the Trystas, and began pulling people up onto rocks and into trees. Everyone left on the ground struggled to keep their footing, lest they be swept away in the growing current.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking directly at Audril.
“It’s the Advantiere,” Audril replied. "Give me a second!" She clambered her way up onto a rock that was jutting up out of the water.
“I don’t believe we have a second, Atoh,” Ultara replied.
“Glaron!” she yelled. “Get over here! I need your help.”
The water continued to rise as Glaron waded to her side.
“I’m going to have to create a bolder chamber!” she yelled, pulling a green pebble from a small bag that hung at her side and tossing it onto the ground.
“What?” Glaron blurted. “You can't! It's suicide!”
“Just cover me,” she insisted. “Make sure no one interrupts the process, and I’ll be fine!”
Ultara stepped onto the pebble and raised her arm skyward, and a sheet of water obediently rose into the air. It swirled around her in a wide, twisting, transparent whirlpool, as a giant sheet of a crystalline, glass-like material started to form across the floor of the field.
The water that had been steadily rising was forced out and around the barrier.
Once the glassy floor of the bolder chamber completely covered the field and areas around it, jagged crystal walls started to inch up from it, gradually encasing Mandela Palace and all of the surrounding territories and pushing the water further away from the hundreds of thousands of people who had been in danger of being swept away just moments ago.
Audril was intrigued by what Ultara was doing, but forced herself to focus on the Advantiere. It was up to her to save New Lor Mandela from the same fate that had just obliterated its clone.
“One comes swiftly in the morning,” she began. “One comes swiftly in the morning.” She thought hard, frantically searching her mind for any clue to the mysterious prophecy. As she repeated the line a third time, it hit her. “Of course! The pictures!”
She looked at Glaron whose horrified eyes were locked on Ultara. “One comes swiftly in the morning!” she yelled, “The first picture was Darian! It matches! He attacked Mandela City in the morning!”
The water continued to rise outside the bolder chamber.
“Okay,” she continued, “One unknowing moves in haste.”
In her head, the image of Darian was slowly replaced.
“Next was Doctor Brockman,” she spoke loudly and quickly, as if she were explaining the Advantiere to Ultara, who was, in fact, listening intently from inside the cyclone.
“One beloved though mighty fallen.” Again the image changed. “That’s momma . . . at the battle, and One is chosen to forget her place.”
She struggled to remember who’d been next. “Nenia?” she questioned, “Yes! The next picture was Nenia!”
Ultara’s eyes grew wide. “What?” she gasped. Her voice was strangely distorted by the water in the funnel around her.
Audril shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know . . . I saw Nenia . . . it was her!” she explained loudly. “Chosen to forget her place?”
She tried to figure out what that could have possibly meant.
She looked across the field and noticed that Ryannon and Kahlie were isolated in an area near the Anaria, locked in a violent battle. Kahlie was amazing, the way she bashed her sword so forcefully against Ryannon’s that he was having a hard time keeping his balance.
Kahlie took two or three more swings, and then spun around to give her next blow added momentum. As she stepped out of the spin, she lost her footing and tripped on a large jagged rock that was sticking up out of the floor of the bolder chamber. She fell hard onto the pointy rock, which ripped through the leg of her armor.
Jonathan saw it too, and raced to help her.
Ryannon lifted his gloved arm into the air and aimed it at Jonathan. Several long thin spikes glinted in the few rays of sun that had pushed through the predominantly cloudy sky.
