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  Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins

  Title Page

  Prologue

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER XVI

  CHAPTER XVII

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CHAPTER XIX

  CHAPTER XX

  CHAPTER XXI

  CHAPTER XXII

  CHAPTER XXIII

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CHAPTER XXV

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CHAPTER XVII

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CHAPTER XXIX

  CHAPTER XXX

  CHAPTER XXXI

  CHAPTER XXXII

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  CHAPTER XXXV

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  CHAPTER XL

  CHAPTER XLI

  CHAPTER XLII

  CHAPTER XLIII

  CHAPTER XLIV

  CHAPTER XLV

  Epilogue

  Here's What Readers and Reviewers are Saying About

  Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins…

  Immediately, I sensed I was holding an epic, entertaining read in my hands. I can tell you that Lor Mandela did not disappoint

  - William R. Potter Readers Choice Reviews

  For someone that is extremely hard to please this book has succeeded in not only capturing my interest, but now I am begging for more

  - Woven Strands Reviews

  I would call LOR MANDELA an epic, beautiful, breathtaking book and it is on my "Highly recommended list" from now on. If I could say one word to describe it, I'd say "WOW!!!

  - Lisa J. Flaus, Author "2012 The Final Revelation"

  *^*

  Destruction from twins, and so it must end…

  ONE comes swiftly in the morning.

  ONE unknowing moves in haste.

  ONE beloved though mighty fallen.

  ONE is chosen to forget her place.

  ONE though strong must fall forbidden.

  ONE made low shall rise again.

  ONE must be as these words written,

  Then will ONE forever reign.

  *^*

  Lor Mandela

  Destruction from Twins

  Book 1 in the Lor Mandela Series

  Copyright 2010 L. Carroll

  2011 Smashwords edition

  *^*

  This Book Also Available in Print from Many Fine Retailers

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  *This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and places written within are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales are coincidental.

  *^*

  For my Fix-it Girl, Maggie’s Twin,

  The Boy Who Discovered the Squanki,

  Glogan, and Pooka.

  And for the Love of my Life.

  On to the next adventure . . . .

  *^*

  Prologue

  The alarm clock clicked from 6:04 to 6:05 a.m., and let out a sadistic buzz which jolted Maggie from a deep, comfortable sleep. With great effort and a disgusted moan, she reached out and smacked the top of the clock, hitting the snooze button for the first of three routine extra ten minutes. The room was quiet and almost completely dark; a faint cool breeze played with the sheer curtains that hung on the open window. In Maggie’s estimation, these were the ideal sleeping conditions—a fact that only added to the cruelty of it being morning already.

  Bzzzzz. Smack!

  Wrapped in her favorite blanket and surrounded by a mountain of pillows, she wandered back and forth between awake and asleep—one moment aware of her surroundings, the next, slipping effortlessly into the beginnings of nonsensical dreams.

  Bzzzzz. Smack!

  She pulled herself upright and sat, still half asleep, on the edge of the bed. Her eyelids dropped, and her head bobbled around as she nodded back off; a sudden falling sensation brought her instantly back to life with a jolt. Her eyes popped open, but then, once again, blinked slowly shut.

  She had just started to doze back off, when she realized that she had seen something in between blinks.

  “What in the. . . ?” she mumbled as she forced herself to wake up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squinted toward the other side of the room.

  There, outside her second story window, two bright white lights—no bigger than a dime—darted around behind the fluttering curtains. They zipped to the right, stopped, and held still for a second, and then spiraled down together to the left. They made a faint but peculiar noise as they jumped from place to place, like a cross between static on a television and chirping crickets.

  Maggie had been a little skittish since the break-in, but at this moment, curiosity was stronger than fear, so she stood and started toward the window. As she walked, the floorboards of the old house creaked ominously beneath her feet, causing her confidence in the situation to rapidly decline. By the time she was half way across the room, she was forcing herself to stay calm.

  “C’mon, Maggs! Don't be such a wimp!” she scolded under her breath. “It's probably just lightning bugs!”

  She reached the window and lifted her hand to pull back the curtain for a better look. All at once, two more little lights zipped up and joined the first. Maggie jumped and her breath caught in her chest. Her heart began to race as an uneasy feeling stirred—the feeling that she was being watched. She inched her way backwards.

  “It’s okay,” she breathed. “They’re just bugs.”

  The four tiny illuminations whizzed around in formation for a second or two, and then the lights started to multiply. Out of nowhere and everywhere all at once, hundreds and hundreds of bright, piercing, white orbs whirled and buzzed outside her open window, creating a riotous screech. Maggie slapped her hands over her ears as the volume of the bizarre noise grew...and grew...and grew. Blinding flashes, like bolts of lightning, burst in through the window and ricocheted around the room, creating a turbulent strobe effect. They crashed into the walls and the floor, making the whole room convulse violently.

  Maggie’s fear grew to sheer terror! She turned and tried to run, but as she did, the floor bumped hard, knocking her to her knees with a painful smack. She screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the horrendous buzzing of the chaotic little lights.

  Horrified, she curled up into a ball on the floor—hands clasped tightly over her ears, eyes squeezed shut—and begged, “Oh please . . . oh please . . . oh please! Someone help me!”

  Just then, her bedroom door swung open. Within a split second, the multitude of lights vanished; the quaking stopped, and the dreadful noise came to an abrupt halt. All was as it had been before….

  *^* Part One *^*

  Destruction from Twins

  CHAPTER I
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  ANIKA

  “Anika? Highness?” The booming deep voice of General Kort echoed through the evergreen-lined halls of Trysta Palace.

  “Yes, Kort . . . come in.”

  Next to the general, the prickly emerald branches of a stately pine slowly swished downward, revealing an intricate carved stone doorway, which framed a room so ethereal, that it looked more like a wooded forest glade than someone’s bed chambers. At the back of the room, a woman, short and petite, with long, dark, wavy hair, hurriedly flipped a silver satin cloth over the top of a stone table. She was almost elfish in appearance, and dreamily illuminated by the rays of bright sunlight streaming through the high glass-like ceiling overhead.

  “I’ve been expecting you, General.”

  The general’s brow furrowed. “You have?” He replied as he hunched over and ducked through the arch. He ducked, not because the arch was small—on the contrary—it was because General Kort was quite a tall man. As he entered, the leaf-covered floor crunched beneath his feet. The warm sunlight from above spilled over him, defining his strong, muscular physique with a bright white outline. “How’d you know I’d be coming?”

  Anika started toward him. She seemed to float rather than walk; there was no crunching of leaves as she approached. She moved in complete silence, her olive-colored gown and silky brunette hair twisting and flowing hypnotically around her. She stopped close to Kort. There was such a contrast in their sizes that they looked rather odd standing beside each other. “Honestly, Kort,” she explained, “I knew you’d be here as soon as you heard that my mother was dead.” She reached up and swirled her finger through a stray lock of auburn hair hanging on his forehead. “You’ve come to secure your connection with power—to make sure that when I am made the vritesse, you won’t be left out somehow.”

  Kort cleared his throat. He seemed offended that he’d been so easily read. “That’s a pretty bold statement, Anika,” he snipped. “What makes you so sure it’ll be you and not your sister?” He turned away in an attempt to hide his pride in such a bold comeback.

  Anika was not amused. Without the slightest hesitation, she grabbed him by the shoulders and whirled him around as though he were nothing more than a small child. Her lavender eyes glowed eerily and as they did, Kort dropped to his knees, sending up a whirling of leaves.

  “Aaaaaggghhh!” he screamed curling into a ball on the floor, writhing and groaning in agony, as a strong surge of electricity like thousands of needles stabbing into his skin simultaneously twisted through his body.

  “My mother was not stupid, General!” Anika’s normally silky smooth voice was now loud and coarse. “She’s always known that I am the strong one! Not Lantalia . . . me!” She stepped back a bit and the glow in her eyes faded.

  Kort gasped and strained for breath as he dragged himself back to his feet. “Forgive me, Anika. I was just . . .” he coughed, “just playing with you.”

  “Lantalia and I were born seconds apart, Kort. No one even thought to pay attention to which of us was first. I guess two at one time was just too much for their simple minds to process.” She walked over to a large stone pillar on the other side of the room and leaned against it, her back facing the still gasping general. Lost in her thoughts she continued, “Lantalia is weak. She’s never been able to lead anything. She’s never . . . .” Her voice trailed off into nothingness as she stood silently staring for several seconds, but then spun back around.

  Kort winced at her abrupt movement, fearing that she might attack him again with another energy surge. When he saw her face though, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Anika? Wh . . . what’s going on?” he asked. The skin on her face and the color of her eyes had suddenly, and very noticeably, darkened.

  “There’s nothing going on, Kort. Everything is perfect. You see, I will be vritesse! No one, not even my dead mother, can stop that!”

  “But you’re . . . .”

  A bellowing voice, calling from somewhere outside the room, interrupted Kort’s retaliation. “The Council of Lor Mandela will convene in two hours’ time; the new vritesse will be called. All council members are required, without exception!”

  Anika smirked triumphantly. Her hair, skin and eyes all seemed to be getting darker by the second. “You were saying?”

  Kort reached out and took her by the hand. “Listen to me, Anika. There’s something happening to you—right now—right in front of me! Something’s not right!” The changes in her were unnerving. He’d never seen anything like this before.

  She grimaced condescendingly and replied, “What are you talking about? I’m fine! Honestly, Kort, you need not act so . . . well, dramatic.”

  “I have a right to be concerned!” he scolded. “I’m your entrusted! I’m supposed to care about you, aren’t I?”

  “Come on, Kort, you’re just overreact . . . .”

  “Anika,” he interrupted, “look at yourself! Your eyes and skin just darkened right in front of me!”

  With a huff and a roll of her eyes, she looked down patronizingly and gazed at her hands. “Hmm,” she mumbled, turning them over and observing the change for herself. It was odd, but certainly didn’t seem like anything worthy of such concern. “So what?” she replied. “Maybe it’s just the vritesse powers finding me.”

  Kort frowned. “Listen, I know that you should be the vritesse, Anika. Everyone knows it!” He took a deep breath and added, “But if your mother did choose Lantalia, what can

  you . . . .”

  “I’ve already told you, General!” she snapped. “I will be the vritesse! If Lantalia happens to get in my way . . . .”

  “You’ll what? Do something drastic? Like what? Like kill her? You’re not a murderer, Anika!”

  “Please, Kort . . . for goodness sake, who said anything about murder?”

  “But the vritesse of Lor Mandela is only replaced at death. It’s the law! You can’t acquire the vritesse powers unless . . . .”

  “Unless the vritesse dies, or wills it, or . . .” She stopped and studied Kort’s eyes as though she was trying to convince herself that she could trust him. She hesitantly continued, “Unless her powers are, shall we say, taken?”

  “Taken? Wait! You mean stolen? How?”

  “There are ways,” she mumbled.

  “Anika, Listen to yourself! You are talking about interfering with some of the most powerful forces on Lor Mandela! This is insanity! You can’t seriously be considering this as an option!” His voice had escalated into a roar. Normally, he didn’t dare raise his voice to Anika, but he didn’t care about being zapped again. She was planning something foolish—foolish and deadly—and he wasn’t about to stand by and watch her get herself killed.

  Anika just stared at him gaping. It was clear by his unrestrained reaction that she’d divulged too much. “Calm down, Kort. As usual, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” She looked away and attempted to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the council meeting?”

  Kort acted as though he hadn’t heard her. “I’m making a big deal out of nothing, Anika?” he argued. “What is going on in your head?”

  Anika forced a smile and walked up to him. She leaned forward, and pulling him to her, kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about it anymore, my love. I promise you . . . it will all be fine. I’m sure nothing, well, extraordinary, will even be necessary.” She slipped around behind him and ran her hands across his broad, muscular shoulders, kneading the tension with her small yet magical hands. “At any rate, your, uh . . . position is secure. You and I both know that’s all you really care about.”

  The general pulled away and turned to face her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Anika tilted her head to one side and looked at him as if to say, don’t push it.

  “Yeah, okay, Anika,” he sighed, “it’s not like I have a choice, do I? I guess I’ll just see you at the meeting.” He approached the doorway, looking despondent, and the branches of the tree drooped down. As he ducked
out into the hall he muttered, “I do care you know, about you.”

  Anika nodded and rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Kort, I know,” she groaned as she took a step back and impatiently waited for the tree door to reappear.

  As soon as Kort was out of sight, she let out a relieved sigh. She rushed to the back of the room and pulled the silver cloth off of the flat rock table. Underneath, was a large tattered book. Anika glanced over her shoulder, and scooped up the old tome and began to study its yellowed pages. Poring over the words, she mumbled, “Elahk . . . Lor Mandela . . . Elahk . . . yes brilliant . . . frightening, but brilliant.”

  After a few minutes, she stopped reading and gazed out over the room. “Only one more step. If my mother . . . .” She turned toward a picture hanging on the vine covered wall across from her and gazed at the image of an aged, white-haired woman. “I hope you weren’t foolish, Mother! I sincerely hope that you’re not going to force me to do this.”

  CHAPTER II

  THE NEW VRITESSE

  Anika stared at her mother’s portrait until it was time to leave for the council meeting. She glanced down at the book that she was still holding and gently folded it shut. After running her hand across its cracked cover, she placed it back on the cold rock table and spread the shimmering silver cloth over the top.

  On the wall next to her, a rich purple cloak hung from a twig hook. She pulled it down, and draped it across her dainty shoulders then, with both anxiousness and anticipation, headed off toward the gathering that would decide her fate, as well as the fate of her twin sister, Lantalia.