Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 38
Jonathan grabbed for Ryannon’s arm, but narrowly missed as he jerked it back. The black form of Ryannon leered at Jonathan and took aim.
“Dad! Look out!” Audril screamed. She jumped down from the rock and raced across the field, knowing there was no way she would make it to her dad in time.
Ultara was also watching the scenario play out from inside a clear cyclone of water. The walls of the bolder chamber were just starting to curve over at the top in the beginnings of a ceiling.
Glaron could see what was happening as well. He jumped in front of Ultara, hoping to distract her from what he knew she was about to do.
“Audril! Transport,” he screamed.
She didn’t hear him, though. The sound of the water funnel drowned out his voice.
Just as Ryannon was about to unload his spike darts into the atoc, Ultara lowered her arm and flung it forcefully toward Ryannon. A golden beam of light ripped through the meadow, hitting Ryannon in the chest and sending him hurling violently through the air.
An enormous jolt of energy surged down through Ultara. She jerked ferociously and then collapsed into a gasping heap onto the ground.
Glaron dropped down next to her. “Oh, Vritesse! What have you done?” he breathed.
Kahlie, Jonathan, Audril and Bridgette all saw Ultara fall wasted no time rushing across the field to her aid.
“What happened? What’s going on?” Kahlie asked, gaping at the panic-stricken Glaron.
“You can’t stop a bolder chamber once you start! It has to be finished or all of the power it takes to create it flows back through the creator!”
He lifted Ultara into his arms, and blurted, “She stopped it; she stopped it to save the atoc.”
“What?” Jonathan gasped, dropping to his knees at Ultara’s side, and looking pleadingly at Glaron, “What can we do?”
Ultara sputtered and coughed. “Don’t trouble yourself, Jonathan. You’ve done all you can. You need to know though; I didn’t kill them . . . your parents . . . it was Darian.”
His eyes saddened. “I’m sorry, Ultara,” he breathed. “I should have trusted you. You saved us. None of us . . .” He took her by the hand. “None of us would have survived this had it not been for you.”
With his words, the water that had been steadily rising around the bolder chamber started to slip quickly back into the ground.
“Dad . . . I think it’s finished,” Audril muttered with a somewhat surprised expression on her face. “That was the final thing that had to happen.” She stood silently for a moment, and then breathed, “His hatred die for love to grow.”
Glaron looked up at her questioningly.
The water continued to soak back into the soil as Audril surveyed the bleak scene.
The fields, once green and lush, had been reduced to mud and rocks. All of the bushes and shrubs that had lined the lake were ripped out and lying in tangled masses around its banks. Several people, who had been carried away, were swimming back to the shores of Mystad—some of them dragging with them the bodies of those who had not made it.
Kahlie, Glaron, Jonathan and Bridgette all tried to help Ultara, who was coughing and gasping for breath.
And then, it started.
At first, it was nothing more than a low hum, but it didn’t take long for the hum to turn into a dull rumbling.
Audril looked skyward and shouted, “What? No! It’s done! It’s over!”
She began replaying the Advantiere again in her mind. “One comes swiftly, Darian! One unknowing, Glaron!”
The rumbling amplified.
“One beloved, Gracielle! One chosen to forget, Nenia! One though strong must fall forbidden.”
She couldn’t remember right away whose face had appeared on the wall after Nenia’s? Who was it? She closed her eyes, and the elusive image came sharply into focus. “Ultara,” she breathed. She looked over where Ultara lay, and sighed sadly, “Ultara.”
The rumbling grew, and seemed to be moving closer.
Audril continued through the Advantiere. “One made low shall rise again.”
She didn’t have to try to remember who the next picture had been; as she glanced at her dad she witnessed first hand the fulfillment of that line. A humble accountant from the Midwestern United States, restored to his rightful place as the High Ruler of an entire world.
“One must be as these words written.”
She thought for a moment. The next picture had been Ryannon’s. Her immediate assumption was that by attacking, Ryannon had satisfied his part of the Advantiere but then she gasped, “No, wait a minute!”
She scanned the field for any sign of the dark form that Ryannon had become. “Where is he?” she cried.
But it wasn’t Audril who spotted him first. Kahlie had already sprung to her feet and was racing back across the field toward a slightly hunched, heaving, shadowy figure that was staggering back toward them.
The moment he saw Kahlie, he too started running.
They raced toward each other. Kahlie drew a sword, and Ryannon produced one as well.
The rumbling of the planet was growing more and more deafening by the second.
“That’s it!” Audril screamed, “That’s what’s missing!” She looked back across the field. Kahlie and Ryannon were still charging at each other, and only a few yards away from colliding. “It wasn’t Ryannon! It was Ryannon and Kahlie! One must be as these words written!”
Ultara bolted to sitting and looked at her wide-eyed.
The rumbling was shaking everything, and was getting closer . . . and closer!
Audril kept her gaze locked on Ryannon and Kahlie. Their swords crashed together, and as they did, Kahlie started to glow white. It was exactly what Audril was waiting for.
The whole world was reeling. Again, everyone was being held in place by the movements of the gyrating ground. Everyone it seemed, except Kahlie and Ryannon who were dueling ferociously as though nothing else was happening around them—Ryannon, an evil, dark, corrupt monster, and Kahlie a good, strong, noble, pillar of light.
“Destruction from twins, and so it must end,” Audril mouthed.
She knew what had to happen. Lor Mandela had to be restored; it had to be made whole again—and the process was almost identical to the way it had been divided. She started in an awkward gallop towards Ryannon and Kahlie. The movements of the planet made it very difficult to move—but she had to! She had to get to Kahlie and Ryannon.
She gritted her teeth in determination, and forced herself to go faster.
Suddenly, she remembered the power she possessed. “The Anaria!” she shouted loudly, and in an instant appeared within just a few feet of the duel.
Ryannon took a step backward, and thrust his sword in toward Kahlie’s stomach. Kahlie—who had been momentarily distracted by Audril’s sudden appearance—wasn’t ready for it. His weapon was less than an inch away from plunging into her midsection, when Audril thrust her arm into the air.
As she did, both Ryannon and Kahlie’s arms that had been holding their swords flew upward. Audril could feel the resistance from both of them, as they fought to regain control of their arms—but she kept her elbow locked and her arm extended.
They both looked at her with shocked expressions.
“What are you doing?” Kahlie yelled.
Ryannon just growled.
“Destruction from twins, and so it must end!” she repeated, and then…despite the fact that she was the one moving her lips, no sound came from her. Instead, the words exploded from the mouths of Ryannon and Kahlie. "ELAHK A BER LOR MANDELAAAAAAAA!”
Suddenly, the black shadow that possessed Ryannon shot into the sky. The white light that enveloped Kahlie also raced into the air. They twisted around each other, each seeking to devour its opposite.
The white light wrapped steadily around the black until it had almost completely choked it out.
All at once, however, the blackness expanded and in a crackling roar, overtook the white. A heavy darkness blanketed the planet. There was a brief pause in the rumbling, and then, a monstrous explosion rocked through the atmosphere—and everything disintegrated into magenta dust.
CHAPTER XLIV
FROM THE END TO THE BEGINNING
Countless tiny specks of brilliant white light flickered and floated through the charged air. Where there had been seemingly unending chaos just moments before, there was now a pervasive silence, peace and calm. The sparkling particles descended, drifting down onto the battle ravaged landscape, falling like glistening, rejuvenating raindrops—and rejuvenate they did. No sooner had the miniscule flecks landed, than thin shoots of green grass sprouted up in the muddy fields. Shrubs and trees that had been ripped from the ground in the flood were replaced as new ones wriggled and stretched up toward the light.
Audril was stunned to find that she was still standing—still alive. She quickly patted herself all over to make sure everything was intact, and then glanced around and saw many of the people in the field doing the same. In the city, people crept out of their houses, looking about in surprise. Occasional whispers permeated the shocked silence. The whispers were replaced by excited chatter, and then, one by one, everyone started to cheer. Whoops of delight and thunderous applause piled on top of the cheers, creating quite a commotion throughout Mandela City and the fields surrounding Mystad Lake.
“Magiiiieeee!” Bridgette squealed from a few feet away, running over and wrapping her arms around Audril. “Sorry! I mean Atoh Audril,” she giggled playfully and bowed. "You did it! You really did it!”
Audril couldn’t speak. She was so relieved that Bridgette was alive, and she was alive, and her dad and Kahlie, and Glaron—they were all alive! Even Ultara seemed to be doing better. She was sitting up on her own, and smiling warmly at Glaron who was doing a goofy little dance.
Jonathan slowly walked to where his daughter stood. Tears streamed down his dusty cheeks. He didn’t say a word; he just grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. Emotion overcame them both as they cried together, and then started laughing.
They were just moving back from their embrace when Glaron tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. “Atoc, the vritesse would like to speak with you.” His expression was uncharacteristically solemn.
Audril glanced over to where Kahlie was sitting, holding Ultara, who was again sputtering for air. “Oh, no!” she breathed as she followed her dad to the vritesse’s side.
“Ultara,” he began, but she stopped him before he could say anything else.
“I don’t want . . .” she coughed a few times, “your sympathy, Atoc.” She drew in a sharp breath and continued. “I have lived the life I was born to live, and now, I just ask that you let me have an honorable death.”
Jonathan struggled to remove any sign of emotion from his face. “What do you want me to do?” he asked soberly.
Ultara leaned forward, wincing in pain as she moved. “Just make sure I get away,” she instructed. “Don’t let me die here.”
With great strain, she rose to her feet, took in a deep breath. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head. “I, Ultara, Daughter of Anika and Vritesse of the Trysta People, call you,” she looked directly at Kahlie who slowly rose to her feet as well. “Nenia,” Ultara continued in a much softer tone, “as my wise and able successor.” She reached into her cloak, pulled out the little silver box, and placed it in Kahlie’s hand. “Rule the Trystas well, my daughter.” She bowed humbly and then turned, as if nothing were wrong, and sprinted off. “The depths of the Caverns!” she yelled loudly as she ran, but then collapsed into a heap on the ground. Suddenly, there was a loud pop, and Ultara vanished.
Kahlie stood staring at the little box in her hand. Jonathan walked up behind her and placed his arm lovingly around her shoulder. She spun into his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around her. He was still holding her when General Statlen ran up behind them.
“Sir,” he interrupted.
“Yes, General?”
He moved Kahlie back gently from the embrace.
“Forgive me, Atoc. It’s, um . . . it’s about Ryannon.”
“What about him, Statlen?”
The general explained, “Captain Morringe and several of his men took him into custody shortly after the explosion.”
“Excellent,” Jonathan replied, “congratulate Morringe for me!”
General Statlen paused for a moment.
“Morringe is dead, sir. Ryannon killed him. He caught them off guard . . . killed them all, and then ran off, sir. He ran into the Sybran.”
Jonathan wasted no time. “Trystas and Dwellers! To the forest! Squanki! Destroy all of the portals! Find Ryannon! Now!”
His command boomed through the valley, as the Trystas shot into the sky, and the Dwellers faded into the shadows.
Audril stood off to the side, watching the search commence, but then felt something sharp press into her back.
“Shhh, not a sound,” Ryannon’s voice whispered behind her.
He pulled her backward—back toward the forest.
“How do you feel about dying, Atoh?” The bleak indifference in the tone of his question sent icy chills racing through her. “You’re about to find out,” he hissed.
“Dad!” she screamed. Everyone in the meadow spun around.
“Ryannon! No!” Jonathan cried and raced toward them.
Ryannon watched at the frantic atoc, and laughed. He spun himself in front of Audril and plunged a long dagger straight into her chest.
Jonathan gasped and dropped to his knees.
No one moved. All eyes locked on Audril.
Ryannon took a step back and stared at her with both intrigue and shock in his eyes.
Jonathan slowly rose back to his feet. His mouth was gaping open. “What the devil?” he breathed.
There, with the sleek black dagger handle protruding out of her chest, Audril stood, completely unaffected.
Audril was every bit as shocked as her dad, but at the moment, her surprise was greatly overshadowed by a sense of rage. She glared at Ryannon in contempt and disgust. “How dare you,” she seethed. “Haven’t you done enough?”
She reached down and grabbed a hold of the dagger handle. Slowly, and with her eyes fixed on Ryannon’s, she slid the dagger out of her chest.
Ryannon watched with a sick aroused fascination.
“How do you feel about dying, Ryannon?” she sneered as the tip of the dagger’s blade appeared at her sternum. She took a step toward him. “You’re about to find out!” In a fluid twist, she flipped the dagger around and placed it at his throat.
An evil smirk spread across his handsome face. There was no fear in his eyes—only the hint of an obsessive enthrallment with Audril’s apparent immortality.
“Not yet, love,” he hissed, and flung his arm upward—knocking the dagger away from his neck and out of Audril’s hand. He grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips, “I’ll be back for more of that later,” he sneered, and then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the Sybran.
“After him!” Jonathan commanded. “Now!” He watched his remaining soldiers charge into the forest, and then rushed to Audril’s side.
CHAPTER XLV
THEN WILL ONE FOREVER REIGN
The Council Hall at Trysta Palace buzzed with excitement. For the first time in more than six years the Council was convening. Delegates, who thought they would never see another gathering, were, at long last, reunited. Among them were representatives from lands once deserted, (now in various stages of renewal); representatives for the Trystas, and the delegates of Mandela City. There were also three newly-appointed delegates; Lortu of the Shadow Dwellers; Tabbit, of the Shadow Squanki; and Bridgette Lawson, of Glenhill, Iowa.
As the council members settled into their blue satin chairs the platforms rose to the appropriate levels. The motion and staggered heights of the platforms added to the overall sense of activity and exhilaration in the room. The radiant sun streamed through the crystal ceiling above, sending a flood of energizing warmth, and ribbons of vibrant color dancing across the rich brown walls.
When the majority of the delegates had settled in, the three large doors at the back of the hall swung open with a clunk. The delegates rose to their feet and started applauding.
Kahlie entered through the door on the left. She was dressed in a long, stunning black gown encrusted about the bodice with hundreds of tiny sapphires. Around her neck was a delicate, cascading necklace that shimmered and sparkled in the rays of light and color. Her long wavy, now black, hair was also dotted with small sapphires that matched her deep blue eyes perfectly. She bowed to the delegates, and lowered to one knee.
The applause exploded into cheers and whistles as Jonathan entered from the door on the right. He was in a black tuxedo with a bright cobalt sash. He placed his gloved hand on top of Kahlie’s and also lowered to his knee.
Suddenly, the roaring applause literally doubled in volume as Audril—dressed in a beautiful, vivid blue, floor length gown—appeared through the door in the center. She glanced uncomfortably at her dad and Kahlie, who were bowing to her, and motioned nervously for them to get up. They chuckled, and rose to their feet, and together with Audril, strolled past the cheering council members to the red velvet chairs on the platforms at the center of the room.
After the lengthy ovation, a hush fell over the crowd.
“Council members of New Lor Mandela,” a voice echoed out from the top of the room, “prepare for the reading of the lineage!”
“Our highest ruler, Jonathan Borloc . . . Atoc of Lor Mandela.”
Jonathan stepped on to his platform, and it rose almost to the ceiling.
“His entrusted, Kahlie Nenia Borloc . . . by marriage, Ator of Lor Mandela . . . by birth, Nenia tu Sybran of the Trystas . . . Daughter of Ultara, and as called, Vritesse of the Trysta People.”
Kahlie moved on to her platform which ascended until it was next to Jonathan’s on the left.
“And in conclusion of our noble and great succession, Atoh Audril Borloc, daughter of Atoc Jonathan Borloc and our beloved departed Ator Gracielle tu Morning of the Trystas and in the ancient language of our Derite ancestors, Clest Anaria . . . The Child of Balance.”
