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"

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D
estruction 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

Book 1 in the Lor Mandela Series

Copyright 2010
L. C
arroll

2011 Smashwords edition

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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.

*^*

F
or 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 . . . .

*^*

T
he 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
*^*

“
A
nika? 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 . . . .”