Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins Page 3

  “And how, exactly do you do that?” he asked, resignedly dropping back down into the chair.

  “I’ve already taken care of the hardest part,” she bragged.

  “Oh you have, have you?”

  “Yes, I have.” She looked supremely pleased with herself. “It was tricky,” she explained. “There were a lot of steps involved, but one of my great-grandmother’s powers was spirit-cloning and, as it turns out, I have that ability as well. I used it, along with my invasion powers to, um, borrow Lantalia’s spirit while she was sleeping the other night.”

  “You borrowed her spirit?” Kort stood and moved toward her. He ran his hand down through her wavy hair, moving it from her neck, and leaned down to kiss her.

  “Come on, General!” Anika whined. She pushed him off, causing him to lose his balance and fall back into the chair. “Try to control yourself.”

  “Fine,” he snipped, “so you borrowed Lantalia’s spirit. I get it. Wait! You did what?”

  Anika smirked proudly. “I invaded my sister’s body, borrowed her soul and made myself a copy of it. Now, I have a clone that I can use whenever I need.” Kort looked at her like she’d gone completely mad, but she didn’t really care. She continued as though this was the cleverest plan ever concocted. “Of course, I had to do it before she had the vritesse powers or she would have sensed me.”

  “Of course.” Kort’s skepticism was evident in his tone. “So, now what? You just take your little clone to the Caverns and say something like, ‘Look, Lor Mandela! I’m Lantalia. I just had a bad cold. I need my powers refreshed’?”

  Anika glared at him. “Nooo, it’s a little more complicated than that, my dear.” She floated across the room while she continued. “But if all goes as planned, the powers of the vritesse will leave Lantalia and come to me.”

  “Hold on a minute. Isn’t that dangerous? What if you get caught?”

  “It’s not without risk, Kort, but I can do it. I’m not worried. I’ve studied this thing constantly for months.” She glided back to where he was sitting and lowered down next to him.

  “So then poof! You’re the vritesse and Lantalia is powerless?”

  “It will take some time for the powers to drain from her, as the powers I get from Lor Mandela will only be renewals. But, they’ll be enough for me to draw the real powers away eventually.”

  Kort kissed her on the forehead and asked, “Won’t people wonder when you all of a sudden have increased powers?”

  "It won’t be hard to convince the council that Lantalia is unfit to be vritesse, Kort . . . especially when her powers start failing. I just need to be discreet about using my new powers until I am called, of course.”

  “Of course.” Kort traced over her cheek with his finger. “So, when does this little soul-swap take place?”

  “In the morning,” she answered. Her lilac eyes were dim and distant. “I wish you could come, my dear, but I have to go alone.”

  “What? Why?” Kort was tremendously disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to watch such an important and powerful event.

  “The soul of Lor Mandela will not allow any witnesses to a vritesse renewal. It would be fatal for you.”

  “Really?” he gulped.

  Anika stood back up and held her hands out to him. He took her hands and she gently pulled him to his feet. “It’s time for you to go now, General.”

  “What? But wait! No! You’re serious? Now?” His displeasure was apparent.

  “I need to get some rest tonight, Kort. I’ll call for you when I get back from the Caverns.” She kissed him goodnight and pointed toward the tree door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Kort sighed. “Fine . . . Good night, I guess.” He pouted and grudgingly, ducked out into the hall, and disappeared behind the evergreen barrier.

  Anika walked back to the chair and sunk down into it. “As if I could rest,” she muttered to herself.

  After a while, she got up and walked over near the door arch. The sun was setting, and the room was growing dark. She touched one of the tree branches, and a soft white glow illuminated the walls and ceiling. Once again, she picked up her great-grandmother’s journal, and leafed through the pages, reading bits and pieces aloud. “Elahk E Ber . . . the balance of all . . . grant me. . . .” She stopped and looked out across the room. “Hold on,” she whispered, “what exactly am I waiting for?” She gazed at the ground for a minute, collected her thoughts, and then rushed to where she’d thrown her cloak earlier. She snatched it up—still clutching the journal in her other arm, and headed for the door. “I need that box!” she breathed.

  She was almost to the descending branches when she stopped short; a displeased scowl spread across her dark face. “I almost forgot,” she seethed and turned back around. She floated over to where the picture of her mother hung. “Ghandentel, Mother!” she sneered, ripping down the portrait and hurling it across the room. It smashed into bits against the hard stone wall.

  Without another word, she glided back across the room and out into the dimly lit, tree-lined halls. Quietly, she made her way through the corridors; the lower branches of the trees swayed gently as her cloak billowed through them. After floating down two long hallways, she came to a wide tunnel—the only part of Trysta Palace that wasn’t tree-lined. At the end of the tunnel, shimmering in the few glints of moonlight coming through the clear glass ceiling above stood an ornate gold door. Anika took a deep breath and glanced nervously around. Confident that she was alone, she started toward the door and was within just a few feet of it when, without warning, it swung open and Lantalia appeared in the doorway.

  “Lantalia?” she breathed restlessly, “I, uh . . . I . . . .” she stammered.

  Lantalia was surprised to see her, too. “Anika? “What’s going on? Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean?” Anika snipped. “I can’t even come to see my own sister?”

  Lantalia eyed her suspiciously. Just seconds before, she had a strange feeling—a sort of premonition. Something didn’t seem right. Her new vritesse powers made her sensitive to such things. She sensed that someone was coming to harm her; it was disturbing indeed for her to open the door and find her own sister standing there.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Anika pried.

  “Um, yes . . . of course. Please come in,” Lantalia responded, eyeing Anika in a way that she had never seen before. It was a look of superiority—and of suspicion. In the few short hours since her calling, Lantalia had already become stronger and more in tune. “What can I do for you, Anika?”

  Anika knew she’d have to be careful. She couldn’t risk Lantalia reading her intentions. Fortunately for her, one of the many powers she possessed was the ability to lock her mind from outside influence. Normally, a mind block wouldn’t work with the vritesse, but since Lantalia’s powers weren’t fully established it was worth a try.

  “I couldn’t sleep, Tali,” she explained. “I have something to ask you.”

  Lantalia’s expression softened—indicating that the mind lock was working. “What is it?” She asked. She glanced at the journal Anika had forgotten she was clutching in her arms. “And what’s that?”

  “Oh . . . um . . . this is?” she stuttered. “It’s just our great-grandmother’s old journal.” She looked down at the book and an idea popped into her head.

  With a new sense of confidence in her voice, she continued, “I was flipping through it earlier, Tali. Grandmother wrote about receiving her powers . . . that’s what I wanted to ask you.” She paused and smiled at her own cleverness. “What was it like when you opened the box? I mean, it must have been so incredible!”

  Lantalia did exactly what Anika hoped she would. She walked across the room, picked up the small silver box, and brought it over to show her. “It was incredible. I can’t describe it. It was a feeling of absolute power and control.” She handed the diminutive box to her sister. “It isn’t much,” she observed, “but there’s more to it than you see.”

  “Especially when it contains the powers, huh?”

  “The powers are only part of it,” Lantalia whispered. It’s alive.”

  “The box?”

  “Shhhhh,” she scolded. “This doesn’t leave this room, Ani!”

  Anika lowered her voice to appease her sister. “So you’re saying that this box is a living thing?”

  She was having extreme difficulty holding on to her mind lock. Lantalia’s powers were trying to penetrate it—and now, the opportunity of a lifetime had just been literally handed to her. I don’t have to steal the box, she thought, I just have to clone its soul!

  She turned her back to Lantalia, and pretending to examine the box, clanked it around loudly enough to hide a whisper. “Elahk E Ber silver box,” she breathed quietly. She clapped her hands around the box to conceal the blue flash that zipped out from it, as a perfect little clone appeared in her palm.

  “I would have never believed it myself,” Lantalia continued oblivious to her sister’s doings, “but the whole time the powers were being bestowed, it was instructing me.”

  Anika tucked the replica of the silver box into her cloak and turned back to face Lantalia. “Instructing you? What was it saying?” she asked as she handed the real box back to her trusting sister.

  Lantalia ran her hand over the box’s lid. “I . . . I probably shouldn’t say.”

  Anika could feel her mind lock deteriorating fast. She realized that she had to get out of there now, or Lantalia would know everything.

  “Whoa!” she groaned, slapping her hand onto her stomach.

  “What is it? Are you all right?” Lantalia asked.

  Anika fell back dramatically against the wall. “Whew! I, um . . . I’m sorry, Tali. I don’t feel we
ll all of a sudden. I’d better go-oh!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, and mumbled through her fingers, “Excuse me, Lantalia. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” She turned and quickly sped out the door.

  “Do you need any help?” Lantalia called after her.

  “No! I . . . I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Lantalia leaned against the door frame and watched Anika practically sprint down the tunnel. “What was that all about?” she questioned aloud as she stepped back into her room and closed the door.

  Meanwhile, Anika made her way out of the palace and headed for a large hill in the distance. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at her amazing good fortune.

  “It’s alive!” She mimicked her sister and sniggered, “I am the stupidest vritesse ever! Here, Anika, why don’t I just tell you everything?” She was positively giddy. She continued until she was a safe distance from the palace, and then stopped in a large, grassy meadow. She knelt down, pulled the cloned box from her cloak and kissed it. “You are a beautiful little thing, aren’t you?” She set it gently on the damp ground, stood, and then looked skyward and shouted, “Stoi Cantara . . . Lantalia!”

  Slowly, a figure rippled up from the ground beside her, and within seconds, a perfect replica of Lantalia, with straight brown hair and magenta eyes stood at her right. The clone was glassy-eyed and seemed to be devoid of emotion.

  “Nolta,” she mumbled.

  The clone reached its hand out toward her as another hand materialized at the end of her left arm. The clone took the phantom hand and pulled. Instantly, and in a flash of red, the spirit of Anika and the clone spirit of Lantalia traded places and Anika visibly became Lantalia. Her own soul stood glassy-eyed and emotionless beside her.

  “Wait here,” she commanded, in Lantalia’s voice.

  Her catatonic soul made an almost indiscernible nod.

  Anika picked up the little box and continued up the hill, her dark silhouette rippling across the field. Within just a few minutes, she had reached the top where she paused for a moment to stare out at the intimidating landscape that stretched before her on the other side.

  It was steep, and the trail was long, narrow, and seemed to lead down into an endless pit.

  Anika’s eyes glowed, lighting everything in front of her with a focused beam of intense pink. She drew in a deep breath and started in a run toward the trail. “The Caverns!” she shouted loudly.

  Just as she was about to run right off the edge of the trail, there was a faint pop, and she vanished into thin air.

  When she rematerialized, she was standing at the entrance to a massive black cave. She glanced back just to make sure that no one was around, and then scanned the cave with her glowing eyes.

  Upon sufficient confirmation that she was alone, she proceeded cautiously into the cave, where the need for the additional light suddenly ceased. The Caverns at Koria were brightly lit and absolutely exquisite.

  Throughout Lor Mandela it was common knowledge that the Caverns were among the most glorious places in existence. Huge, glowing, pastel-colored rock formations hung down from the high, glistening, crystal-encrusted ceilings; the vibrations of the planet bounced from formation to formation resonating in soft harmonious hums. Despite their location, far below the surface, the Caverns were well illuminated by a warm silvery glow, originating from an unknown source.

  Although they were beautiful, the Caverns were also deadly. Inside, steep, sharply-winding paths bordered jagged cliffs—the walls of which were miles high. Over the years, even the tiniest errors in judgment had caused many to fall to their early deaths.

  Anika didn’t pause to take in the view, though. Tonight, she was on a mission. She nimbly maneuvered up the path until she reached a huge rock that jutted out over the cliffs like a giant platform. She stepped out onto it, held the cloned box in front of her and shouted skyward, “I am Lantalia, daughter of Satia, and Vritesse of Lor Mandela! Soul of Lor Mandela, grant me renewal! The balance of all powers from the beginning until the end!” A pillar of white light shot up through the center of the Caverns and bulleted toward Anika. It whirred and spattered and wrapped its way around her, completely enveloping her.

  In the light, Anika heard a faint voice. It surged in and out. “Lantalia . . . Vritesse . . . you’ve only just received these powers. How is it that they are in need of renewal?”

  Anika had anticipated that this might happen and had an answer prepared. “Wise spirit, my mother was very ill at her final renewal. I believe she was not able to fully gather all that you bestowed.”

  There was a pause before the voice answered. “Lantalia, Vritesse of the Trysta people, be ren . . . .”

  Suddenly, the glowing white pillar lost its form. Violent shards of light shot through the air ricocheting off of the walls and rock formations. The voice boomed, “I am the soul of Lor Mandela! Lantalia . . . Vritesse . . . twin!”

  Anika’s stomach lurched. She had been discovered—or so it seemed.

  The light bounced wildly throughout the Caverns but then, much to Anika’s relief, it slowly gathered back into a straight column and the calm, rhythmic whir returned.

  The voice spoke again, much more serenely than before, and the pillar of light shrank away. “Take your renewed powers, Vritesse . . . and go.”

  Anika felt strange. She tried to take a step backward but teetered awkwardly and collapsed, unconscious, into a heap on the rock platform; the hand holding the little silver box precariously flopped out over the edge.

  It was several hours before she regained consciousness. She moaned softly, glanced around, and realized that the box was teetering near the end of her fingertips. She gasped and pulled it quickly toward her, hoping that nothing had escaped. A tiny sliver of white light peeked out from around the lid indicating that the powers were still inside. Anika sighed and rose groggily to her feet.

  “That was more, um . . . physically demanding than anticipated,” she breathed, as she dragged herself back down the path.

  Upon exiting the Caverns, she realized that the sun was already rising. She would need to get back her own soul before it was discovered. She headed off at a furious pace. “Koria field!” she yelled skyward and was instantly transported back to the field on the opposite side of where she’d left her spirit.

  The unresponsive soul was still standing across the meadow like a statue; luckily, no one was in sight.

  She sprinted toward it and shouted, “Nolta!”

  In response, her soul zipped toward her and dove aggressively into her, knocking her to the ground. Right when they hit, the cloned spirit of Lantalia burst out of her back and fell to the earth.

  Anika looked like herself again except now there was no mistaking it. Her skin was very, very dark. “Strange,” she mumbled as she rose to her feet and brushed herself off. She started off toward Trysta Palace, staring at her hands and arms as she went. She hadn’t gone far when she remembered that her sister’s cloned soul was still lying in the field behind her. She sniggered as she contemplated leaving it there for someone to find. “Erun cantara . . . Lantalia!” she commanded.

  The spirit clone rippled and distorted. It wiggled around a bit, and then dissolved slowly into the ground and disappeared.

  Anika glanced over her hands again and shook her head. “Very strange,” she muttered, as she sped off again toward home.

  Once she was safely back inside her room she wasted no time. She was very anxious to set her plan in motion. She lifted a small stick-like object from a bedside table and spoke into the end of it.

  “Send for General Kort, immediately,” she ordered.

  A few minutes later, he was outside her door calling her name.

  She rushed over and pulled him in, right through the branches that were still descending.

  “Ouch! Anika,” Kort exclaimed, brushing the pine needles from his shirt. “What’s so urgent?” He picked a stray needle from his auburn curls and glanced at Anika, who was even darker than before. A look of concern spread across his rugged face. “Have you figured out what’s causing this darkening yet? Is it because of the spirit cloning?” he asked, staring.