The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four)

by Ivory Autumn

  The moon was out again, staring down on them with its severe eye, watching their every move as if waiting for Andrew to give in to the helplessness he felt inside himself.

  Andrew sat near the edge of the dry riverbed digging his shoulders against the chest of unsaid words, pushing with all his strength. His face was pinched into a grimace as he heaved and lifted, struggling against its weight. When Drust had said that the chest was heavy, he hadn’t exaggerated. It was heavier than anything Andrew had ever lifted. To push against it was like trying to move a boulder.

  “Andrew,” Freddie cried. “Let me help you with that.”

  Andrew looked back at Freddie and Croffin. Freddie was walking in slow, halting steps. His face was pale, and his eyes looked pained. Andrew knew that Freddie was still very weak, and he would not accept help from him or anyone else.

  “Please,” Freddie insisted. “Let me help you. It’s only a shoulder wound. I can use my other hand.”

  “No!” Andrew shook his head and heaved his shoulder against the chest. “You must gather your strength. I was the one who told Drust and Whab that I would take this chest, and it is I, and I, alone who must move it.”

  He heaved against the chest, trying to lift it. He gritted his teeth, straining with every muscle. Sweat dripped down his face and into his eyes. The chest dug against his shoulder like a heavy boulder that did not wish to move. He heaved once more, digging his feet into the sandy ground. He could hear the trapped words inside the chest buzz like trapped flies in a bottle as if they knew what was coming. This time the chest shifted, and teetered on the edge of the dry riverbed. He fell on his hands watching as the chest slid neatly down the sand and rocks to the bottom of the dry riverbed.

  Andrew lay where he was, trying to catch his breath, feeling the sweat trickle down his back.

  Freddie stood over him, and held out a hand. “Need a hand up?”

  Andrew ignored the gesture, and pushed himself up. “I’m good. I was going to ask you if you were the one who needed a hand down.”

  Freddie shook his head, pushed past Andrew, and marched down the sloping bank. “Nope. Not me. That arrow didn’t do anything to my legs, Andrew. I’m able to walk just fine.”

  “You should really listen to him,” Croffin said, following behind Freddie. “With his help we will get to the ocean a lot faster.”

  Andrew slid down the bank, and grabbed the iron handle on the chest and pulled. On first try it didn’t budge.

  “I’m telling you,” Croffin insisted. “You should really let him help. At this rate, it’ll take us all night to go a mile.”

  “I told you I can do it,” Andrew set his jaw and pulled the chest forward, dragging it slowly behind him on the loose sand. “See, it’s not so bad.” He pulled, and puffed and heaved, moving it very slowly.

  Freddie and Croffin both looked at each other, with knowing glances, then continued on.

  With each step, Andrew pulled, straining against its weight. Who would have thought words could be so heavy?

  “You’re doing fine,” Croffin called in front of him, “Just keep it coming, and you’ll have made ten complete steps.”

  “Sure,” Andrew puffed, “You aren’t carrying the weight of the last 100 years of unsaid words now are you.”

  Croffin smirked. “Should I tell you what I was about to say, or let that unsaid word just add to your burden?”

  “Very funny.” Andrew turned away from Croffin and concentrated on the task at hand. The chest seemed to him a symbol of all that had been looked up inside him---something hidden, something powerful, strange, and unable to free itself, something that was yearning to be free if only he carried it a little farther. Andrew put his whole self into moving the chest. With each step, the words inside the chest thumped and droned, fluttering against the wood like fireflies, emitting their light through the cracks and crannies of the chest.

  Thump, thump, crackle, whisk, swish, hushed whispers, subdued laugher.

  Such unsaid words were much heavier when kept hidden.

  If Andrew had known how heavy the chest would be, he would have thought twice before agreeing to take it with him. Such a burden was almost impossible to traverse with. He took slow steps, leaning away from the chest as he pulled it behind him, feeling the muscles in his arms and back rip and tear against the weight. Still he went on, putting one foot in front of the other, pulling, heaving, breathing in strained gasps, stepping again, and pulling. His mind cried out for him to stop, to leave the chest there and forget all the words that would never be said. But he could not. He had made a promise.

  He dug his feet firmly into the ground and pulled the chest along with him, ignoring what his mind said, paying attention to only his body. He moved, pushed, heaved like a machine. Only his body was his master now---a master that inflicted pain on itself.

  The hum inside the chest throbbed with each step he took, in rhythm to his heart, bump, ba, ba, bump, bump, ba, ba, ba bump, bump. With each drumbeat he thought he heard a muted choir of unheard voices---desperate and chilling as they called out to him, begging him to release their forbidden songs for all ears to hear.

  He went on with each throb of the chest, feeling only numbness inside himself. His legs, his hands, his shoulders, his back and his feet didn’t feel like flesh and blood anymore, but something that was not his own. On he pressed through the night, barely aware that the moon had gone down and the sun had come up.

  “Andrew,” he thought he heard Freddie’s voice. He pushed on, tugging the chest along with him.

  “It is time to rest!” Freddie’s voice insisted.

  Andrew continued onward, unable to stop. “I’ve got to keep going. We’ve got to reach the ocean before it’s too late. Before The Drought…”

  “ANDREW!” Freddie stood in front of him holding up a hand. “Stop! You’re going to kill yourself if you don’t let anyone help you.”

  Andrew looked at Freddie, and blinked. He rubbed his eyes, and nodded, staring off into the distance. “Yeah…I guess you’re right. I am tired, I think…”

  “Yes, you should be. You’ve been heaving that chest all night. It’s time to rest.” He bent down and tried to pry Andrew’s fingers off the chest. Andrew stared down at his fingers, watching as Freddie tried to pry them off the handle. They didn’t feel like his hands. Perhaps they weren’t.

  “Let go, Andrew!”

  Andrew tried, but his fingers wouldn’t budge. “I’m trying.”

  “There!” Freddie said, finally prying Andrew’s hands away from the iron handle.

  Pain shot into Andrew’s arms and fingers. He stared at his hands and slowly tried to wiggle them, flinching as needles of pain shot up both his arms. His knees wobbled under the weight of his body. He felt very thirsty and light headed. “Ahg!” Andrew groaned, leaning against the chest. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

  “Yeah,” Freddie murmured. “I noticed. You’ve ignored everything I’ve said over the last two hours.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it. Just sleep. You need it worse than I do. When you wake, you will let me help you carry that chest. Okay? Andrew? Andrew...”

  Andrew’s eyes were closed. He lay curled up against the chest, sound asleep as if the throbbing of the chest had sung him a lullaby, and put him fast to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Blogs

  Ivory awoke to the sickening smell of sulfur and the hot prick of water bubbling against her skin. She could not remember where she was or how she had gotten there.

  All she could remember was sitting by a dying campfire, with the rain pelting down and Gogindy howling about something coming at them through the darkness.

  She looked around her, bewildered. Talic, like herself, was chained to a metal spike fixed deep into a steamy bowl-shaped basin filled with warm water that bubbled up from the ground. The volcanic basin was a beautiful hue of blue, green, and pink,
from the amazing population of algae that grew on the rocks beneath the water.

  “Talic,” Ivory asked, “are you alright?”

  Talic’s eyes still looked glossy, and animal-like. He hadn’t fully recovered from the Twisker Zolic that Gogindy had given him. His face was less puffy, but his ears were still Twisker-like and jagged---they drooped in the water, like wriggling fish fins. His face was covered in long, rabbit-like whiskers, and his fingernails were long, and sharp.

  “Talic?” Ivory said again.

  Talic looked at her, confused.

  “Can you understand anything I’m saying?”

  Talic furrowed his brows, and nodded ever so slowly. “Yesss.” his voice was slurred. “M…y hea…d hurt…s.” his words came out slow, and difficult, like his tongue was too big for his mouth. Whath…s wrong...with…me?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ivory shifted uncomfortably in the water. It felt like the water was getting hotter. “You seem to be suffering from the effects of some Twisker Zolic, that’s what.”

  “Gogindy…dr…ugged me?” Talic’s face clouded over. His eyes filled with a crazy madness. He seemed to forget that Ivory was there. He stared at his big nose, going cross-eyed. Then his eyes grew big as he spotted the whiskers protruding out of his face. “What’ssss happened tooooo me? Where are…we…I’m so dizzy. I’m so confused.” He yelped, and pulled against the metal spike, trying to free himself. “How did we get here?”

  Ivory shook her head, feeling a stab of sympathy for poor Talic. “I’m not sure how we got here. I can’t remember much. It was raining, I remember, and then these stick figure monsters came at us…and then Gogindy was running away.”

  “Gogindy…!” Talic howled. “Where is he? That monsssster! That snnnnnipe. That doublecrossingggg, powder rag!”

  As Talic’s angry voice died down, a new sound arose, growing steadily louder. The sounds popped and cracked, as if someone was cracking their knuckles over and over again. Then one by one, a host of scabby-white creatures that looked like anemic spider-scorpions appeared around the basin, tapping their numerous legs, as they moved.

  “What, what, what’s that?” Talic stuttered, staring at the ugly scabs in distain.

  Ivory glanced beneath the pool of water where lumps of coral grew on piles of bones, covering the skeletons in soft, neon colors of pink, blue, yellow and green.

  “Look, Talic,” Ivory murmured, nodding her head at the frightening carnage below them.

  Talic’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Bones, Ivory, Bones! Dead bones!” He pulled against his chains in terror. “Help, somebody help.” He seemed to be losing control as his Twisker self took over. He started screaming and mumbling words that made no sense. “CAAAAAAAA, GOOT, Twisker soup! The water hot, hot, hot! Like a boiling pot, pot, pot. They’re going to boil us alive, and then eat us. Eat us! Eat us, eat us, eat us, eat us!”

  “Quiet,” Talic Ivory shouted. “You’re making it so I can’t think. Calm yourself.”

  The scabs popped and cracked joyously as if they liked Talic’s outburst of fear. Then, drumming their spidery feet along the pool, they climbed to the edge, and tapped their shelly legs against the sides---some dipping their legs into the water and jumping back, only to repeat the procedure.

  Talic’s eyes filled with terror. He howled, and cried, jerking back and forth against his chains. Tears fell down his cheeks, and dripped into the water like rain. “I…I…Ivory, I…I… don’t want to d…d…ie h…here. L…ike this. Boiled alive like a silly lobster. Like this…”

  “Hush, Talic, and try to pull yourself together!” Ivory snapped. “I don’t want to die here either. So let’s think of something so we won’t.”

  Talic nodded, and sniffed. “Alright, I’m…thinking.” He closed his eyes, hard. “Gosh, but it’s so hot. It’s hard to think. All I can think about is eating bugs, and jumping through grass and dandelions.”

  “Never mind,” Ivory murmured. “I’ll do the thinking. You just be quiet.” She pulled against the spike. It was old and rusty, but did not budge. She pulled again. It shifted a little. She pulled again, and it shifted even more.

  “It’s moving,” Ivory said, working her arms against the spike. “Just a little more.”

  “Hurry,” Talic shouted. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and into his eyes.

  “I think I’ve got it!” Ivory exclaimed, pulling as hard as she could against the spike. “Just one last…There!” She pulled against it as hard as she could and the spike broke in half. The chains fell from her hands.

  The scabs on the edge of the pool grew excited at Ivory’s thrashing and reached out with their long feelers, trying to douse her face-first into the water. Ivory withdrew an arrow from her quiver and stabbed it at one of the scabs. The arrow sunk into its knobby flesh. The mob of creatures recoiled in fear, letting out loud scraping clicks and clacks.

  “Talic, hold still!” she shouted, prying against the spike with a dagger she carried. “No. Don’t faint. It’s not very manly.”

  “I…haven’t fainted,” Talic slurred, struggling to hold up his chin. “I’m just so hot.”

  “Here, Talic, I need you to help me pull. On the count of three, you pull back while I pry against the spike with my dagger. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “One, two, three, pull!”

  The spike suddenly gave way and Ivory and Talic fell back into the boiling water.

  “Hot!” Talic cried, coming up from the water and sputtering, his lacy ears drooping down to his elbows.

  “Yes,” Ivory agreed, making her way through the water to the edge of the basin where the scabs clicked their feet in agitation against the edge.

  Hundreds of scabs circled around Talic and Ivory, some lashing out, trying to topple them back into the boiling water.

  “They really want to boil us,” Talic said, glancing warily at the hot water swirling around his waist.

  “Talic!” Ivory commanded, give me your sword.

  “What sword?”

  “The one strapped in your belt.”

  Talic’s hand went carefully to his sword. Surprised that Ivory was right, he handed it over to Ivory with fumbling fingers.

  Ivory slogged to the edge of the basin and stood peering up at the host of scabs. “Get back!” She cried, jabbing at them with the sword, slicing off one of their long feelers. Instantly, the scabs went wild with furry. Cracking, and snapping a dozen poured over the edge of the pool. But, just as their feelers touched the water, they shriveled into harmless water-skeeters.”

  “Ivory!” Talic gasped, jumping up and down in the water, stirring up the array of water-skeeters floating about him with his whiskers. Steam rose and swirled around them as hoards of remaining scabs pounded their feet against the edge of the pool in anger, so hard that bits of the creatures’ skin flaked down on Ivory and Talic.

  A long, hissing cry rippled through the scabs. The ground shook and trembled as a large creature with skin that looked like the surface of a cracked and claylike desert floor, came barreling towards them. Thump, thump, thump. Steam, heat, and wind swirled about the creature, as though the being was the spirit of the desert itself.

  It cried out in a hollow, dry voice, whacking the scabs back, like they were brittle leaves, staring at them with his heated glare. His crystal clear eyes, magnified the heat of the sun, tripling its strength, and turned all under its gaze to powder. With a single glance, a wave of heat and steam rippled over the entire host of scabs, drying them up in an instant, turning them into hollow shells. The being laughed and walked through the devastation he had caused, crushing the scabs’ bodies into fine powder beneath his feet.

  The crumbly, dusty creature stopped at the edge of the pool, staring at the water with his glistening eyes. As he stared at the water, it began to dry up around them, inch by inch, until the pool had completely evaporated.

  Ivory and Talic stared around them, too stunned to move.

  Ivory wanted to
look away from this being. His eyes made her thirsty, made her throat dry, but she couldn’t help herself. The being was too intriguing for her to look away. His dry, dusty skin flaked off around his face as he smiled.

  He held his hand out for Ivory to take. Ivory stared at it. His fingers were scaly and covered in clay that was cracked like the floor of a mud hole that had long since dried up. The creature looked like the driest, dustiest, oldest, and most ancient, timeless, ageless, creature she had ever seen in her life.

  She hesitated as she stared at the creature, unsure if this being was a friend or foe. “Take my hand!” the being thundered.

  Its voice was hard and commanding. Something you could not disobey. Ivory quickly took the being’s hand, and was hoisted out of the now-dry sink hole.

  The being then helped Talic onto the edge. “Good,” the being growled, his voice dusty and full of gravel as if he had swallowed several sand dunes that had lodged in his throat.

  “Who are you?” Ivory ventured, her voice filled with a kind of fearful reverence. Somehow she knew this being was no ordinary element.

  The being averted his eyes from her, and stared off into the distance. “It doesn’t matter!” His voice was angry and distrustful.

  Ivory took a step back from the creature, unsure of its true nature.

  It glanced at Ivory’s frightened face, then softened its grainy tone so it almost sounded kind, but it was still gritty like a toad. “What matters,” the creature said, “is that I’ve come to help you. I am to take you to your friend, Andrew. And I will. If you will let me.”

  “Andrew?” Ivory breathed, trying to hide her excitement. “You know where he is?”

  The creature nodded. “I do. I will take you to him, if you like.”

  She looked at Talic, who seemed to be concentrating on a cricket that had settled itself on the ground by his feet, and was wholly absorbed in lusting after it.

  Ivory sighed, and then turned to the creature. “Yes. We will go with you.”

  The dry, dusty creature smiled, the layers of dirt and sand on his face cracking, and flaking off as he did so. “Good. You must follow me, then, and follow quickly. I won’t wait for stragglers. I’m very busy you know.”