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

by Ivory Autumn

  But what they now could do, they did. There was no in-between, no gray for those who held hope in their hearts. And oh, how this new hope called to them! None could be still, none could remain as they had been. For the darkness had become so great that had they remained as they were, they would soon have become shadows themselves. Their hope without faith, without action, without expanding, would have vanished, leaving them again in darkness.

  Finally, the last toll of the bell echoed over the land, ushering in a heavy quietude, striking the hearts of men with a resounding message that the last battle was very near. Those who had been called by the voice of hope gathered together at the edge of the frozen sea where the ice lay strewn with the frozen bodies of the dead from Andrew’s army that had faced the darkness alone. Black snow covered the land with an oily black mantel of mourning and solemnity.

  Gathered on the other side of the frozen sea stood The Fallen’s army, numberless and as endless as the darkness was. Shadows and men who had bowed down to the darkness, and those whose souls had been withered away into nothing, stood waiting for the army of light.

  Here, light and darkness gathered together, the one as bright as the other was dark, both giving contrast to one another.

  Lancedon stood overlooking this scene with apprehension. He could not see either army. But he could feel both sides---the devouring, hungering darkness on one side, and on the other, the brilliant power that radiated out and gave to all it touched. The Fallen’s army stood poised, unmoving as if they were in a deep trance. Hardly a soldier blinked. The Fallen’s army was as vast as the sea, fearsome, filled to capacity with every dark evil thought, every dark deed, every lie, every deception, every shadow---every gray soul that had ventured beyond the realm of light into the darkness stood there before them, breathed to life, and given form, and power from the master they served.

  Yes, Lancedon thought, feeling the great pull of energy from both sides, their numbers were great. But compared to the darkness, the brilliance of Lancedon’s army was a mere smudge of light on the earth. But that small smudge was enough. It shone out through the cover of darkness, a breathtaking gleam against the shroud of blackness that hugged the army on all sides, making the army’s brilliance brighter by its contrast.

  Coral rode through the snow with Lancedon. “Look,” she cried, pulling Lancedon’s horse to a stop. She smiled and pointed behind them at hundreds of flickering lights---the people and soldiers that rallied behind them. “Lancedon, I wish you could see what I see. For they have all come, from far and near. The Brittlewambers from the ancient woods, the elves from Levwood, even some of Danspire’s people have come. Behind you, from the four corners of the earth they have come, given wings of speed from the light inside them. Here they stand at your command, a few from every land---beast and human alike, all glowing with light. It is beautiful.”

  “It is beautiful,” Lancedon agreed. “I may not see them, but I feel their courage. It is building, just as the darkness builds. I feel that it is time. We can wait no longer. If there is to be a battle, it is to be now.”

  “So soon?” she asked, her eyes filling with fear.

  “Soon?” Lancedon repeated. “It should have been sooner. Much sooner. No. It is late, far too late. The hour is dark, but here we stand. Together. To live or to die.” Lancedon leaned in towards Coral. He could feel heat emanating off her like his own personal sun. “Are you afraid?”

  Coral stared out into the blackness, listening to the fiendish cries of their unseen enemy. They were coming out of the darkness, like tormented souls, a black wave that had no other aim except to cover the light and bury it in The Fallen’s eternal abyss.

  “Yes.” Coral answered. “I am afraid of the things I cannot see. And in this darkness there is much to be feared. They come before us like shadows, their numbers unknown, their faces hidden.”

  “When I am afraid of what I cannot see,” Lancedon replied, clasping her hand and placing it gently to his lips, “I hold on to what I feel, and what I know. You are what is near. You it is that I feel. I am not afraid when you are near.”

  They quickly embraced, as if it was their first and last kiss on earth.

  Lancedon slowly pulled away, and smiled. “Are you still afraid?”

  Coral shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s funny, because I suddenly am.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Yes. Of losing you.”

  “Whatever happens, you will never lose my love. The sun, the moon, and stars may have ceased to shine, but my love, the hope that gleams from my skin, will always endure.”

  “As will mine,” Lancedon whispered, holding her warm hand to his, never wanting to let go.

  “Lancedon?” Sterling called through the darkness. “Is it time?”

  “Yes!” Lancedon shouted back. He breathed deeply, and wrapped his arms around Coral who sat in front of him in the saddle. “Are you ready, Coral?”

  “Now I am.” She smiled, and directed Lancedon’s horse to the front of the army, where Zeechee and Sterling stood like glowing stars against the never-ending black background.

  Lancedon sat erect in the saddle, overlooking the brilliant army as if he could really see them. His eyes were shining. His face was covered in dirt and grime, but the look he wore was one of deepest integrity as if he knew from the core of his soul who he was and what he was supposed to do.

  “Hope!” Lancedon called out to the warriors of light assembled before him. His was voice loud and clear, as if carried by the light so that all could hear. “This hope has given you wings and doubled your speed, so that you have been summoned here in this our hour of dire need. Here, we stand together, finally united by a cause that many of you once fought against. But now your hearts have been softened, changed, and renewed. Even at this last hour, the evening of our lives, we meet together, in a world completely covered in shadows, lies, and deceit that our existence is the only thing keeping the darkness from consuming the world entirely. We have now come together to see where this path of light will take us. Oh, if we had listened a little sooner! If we had taken courage and had not let fear enter our hearts, what a joyful time this would be. Instead of joy, there are shrieks in the dark. Instead of light, there is blackness. You are the last bearers of light. Bear it well. Let us fight this last time. As hope in this hopeless world rises, we will linger here for as long as hope’s light shines in us! Keep it burning within you, and you will not be lost. Go! Put this darkness to shame! Where light is, darkness cannot be! For on this eternal night, we go to battle against the forces of darkness so great that we cannot comprehend its magnitude. Today, we will fight for that which cannot be contained in buildings or bought with money, nor bartered for, nor voted on. We battle for truth! For light! Today we go to battle---The last battle against a foe that has no constraints, no conscience, no sense of justice, and no regard for life. In The Fallen, and in his followers is only darkness, greed, and selfishness. Today we do not battle only with swords, but with the light that we have inside us. That is far greater than any weapon, far more powerful than the darkness that holds the earth captive! We come together today as the few who dared to fight for what is right! Remember, that you are here because you carry hope and truth inside your heart. A truth so brilliant that even the darkness cannot consume it---a hope that drives you to action, a hope that has led you here, together. This hope lingers long after all else has vanished. Even when the soul has departed, hope is there. As long as there is a vessel to bear its light, it will linger. As long as hope and truth live, you and I must believe that there is a reason for it! Hope has summoned us all here today. It is what lights our path. Let the voice of hope and truth be heard, not in our hearts alone, but in the clash of our swords, and the cry of our voice! If we die today, we die knowing that our hearts are more alive than they have ever been, or ever will be!”

  The crowd cheered and clamored with shouts so loud and full of light, that the light that beamed from their skin surged
far past its original bounds, thinning the darkness around them.

  “I may be blind,” Lancedon continued, “but that does not mean I cannot feel the darkness that has covered this land. It does not mean that I cannot feel the fear that binds the earth in chains. At this moment, I see clearer than I ever have in my entire life. I see that this darkness cannot triumph so long as we are here. I feel your courage, your strength, and your brilliance. By my blindness, by the darkness that has constantly surrounded me, I have learned that it is your fear of the darkness that binds you and holds you in place, not the darkness itself. So take courage. Utilize all your senses, but most of all. Let the light inside yourself illuminate your path. You are stronger than you think, brighter than you think, more powerful than you think. The Fallen knows this. It is he who tries to make you depend on him, to obey him, to fear him, to subject yourself to him, so you will forget all that you have, and all that you are. And what you are is light! Beautiful light! I see now that perhaps my blindness is a gift. For it has taught me that even in darkness, light can be found. It has taught me not to fear what I cannot see. But to face it. It has taught me that darkness has no real power, except the power that we give it. It cannot bind you unless you let it! I can’t see our enemy’s numbers, nor can I see your shining faces. But I can feel the light that you give, I can sense the power that you hold, a power that gives light and strength to each of you. Together, we will drive out this darkness. Together, we will make our stand. We are the last bearers of light. Let it not go out. Let it not dim! For freedom! For truth! For hope for a better future, for a brighter day!”

  As his voice died out, the army burst into a thunderous roar. The army raised their swords and cried in unison. “Let it not dim! For freedom, for truth, for hope for a better future, for a brighter day!”

  “Onward!” Lancedon roared. He held his sword aloft. “It is time! Let us drive out this darkness! The Battle Of Hope Rises has begun! Fight, willing soldiers. Fight!”

  With those words, Coral courageously led Lancedon’s horse to the front of the army, with Zeechee, and Sterling riding by their side. “Forward!” Lancedon cried. “Let us send them back to where they came from!”

  His men raised their swords with him, echoing his call so loudly that the light they gave off intensified, illuminating their enemy by their brilliant glow.

  Coral drove their horse forward onto the thick, frozen sea. Lancedon’s horse reared back, then as its hooves hit the ground, a tremor rocked the ground, creating thin cracks through the black ice. In that instant, it was as if The Fallen’s army had awakened. A rippling roar of hatred and anger swelled through The Fallen’s ranks. Woeful drums sounded. Shadows, Sontars, man, and beast, and thousand upon thousand of shadowy faces turned towards them. Hate was in their eyes, and weapons of vengeance were in their hands. They spread out over the ice towards Lancedon’s army of light, their cries so deafening that the ice cracked and popped from the sound.

  Lancedon’s army surged across the sea of ice to meet The Fallen’s oncoming army, like a sea of shooting stars whizzing through the black sky. The army glowed like angels pushing their way into in the depths of hell.

  “For freedom!” Lancedon cried, as they crashed over the ice towards their enemy. “For light!”

  Morack, Vargas and The Shade stood in the mid of this immeasurable army, wearing helmets that looked like the trunks of chopped trees, with the roots dripping down over their faces, as slotted, protective coverings.

  Sterling, Zeechee, and a group of men handpicked by Lancedon, fought around Lancedon and Coral, trying to keep a small shield of protection around their blind leader.

  The ice cracked and groaned as the momentous weight of both armies marched over it. Sword clashed with sword, metal against metal. Hoof against ice. Light against dark. The sight of such bright souls standing before the infinite blackness was like watching a small brilliant spark surge up into the night, made all the brighter by the darkness framing it. It was as if the very darkness on earth was trying to devour celestial bodies that had united together. This darkness tore through Lancedon’s army, bringing down men, women, children and soldier, killing the light it so desperately hated. Many who had struggled to keep their flickering hope alive, faltered in a moment of fear and let the light fall from them. They flickered, and then instantly went out as they died, overpowered by the darkness.

  Lancedon’s voice rang out, “Stay strong, men! Do not let the darkness get hold!”

  Coral rode bravely ahead maneuvering Lancedon’s horse through the masses, while he sat beside her, bringing sword down on those hindering their way, cutting down the enemy with inhuman strength. What he lacked in sight he made up with his other senses. Though he could not see, he could feel the light from his own men, just as he could feel the darkness emanating from The Fallen’s soldiers. Thus he did not fear striking his own men. The contrast between the two armies was stark. The Fallen’s men were different in every way. They even smelled dark. In this blackness Lancedon did not feel blind. He could feel the two energies battling together as if he could see their true form and hue.

  He cut down all that came at him with such accuracy that no one could possibly take him for a blind man. Every swipe of his weapon had purpose, and every one he brought down was that of his enemy. He could hear every clash of the sword, every footfall, every cry of the dying. These sounds were all magnified in his ears, and quickly dealt with.

  The men who had held onto hope, fought with double the strength of The Fallen’s men, cutting their way through the endless onslaught of soldiers and shadows that tried to overpower them.

  All around them The Fallen’s soldiers pulsed, fighting against the army of light, crammed together in exhaustive rows, like panthers of eternal night slinking in and out of the heavy darkness, snatching and consuming the flickering souls that wavered.

  In the deathly dark, it appeared as if angels and devils had come against one another. Shadows cowered before the glow of hope. Men and beasts whose hearts had become black fought with savage cruelty against the great illuminated army that pressed courageously onward. A loud roar sounded as shadow and fiend pushed through every empty space, hemming in Lancedon’s army from every direction.

  “Lancedon!” Coral cried, her eyes filling with fear as The Fallen’s army doubled and tripled in the darkness, surging upon them, making it almost impossible to move forward. Shadows tugged at her skirts, trying to pull her from the horse.

  Lancedon held onto her, and let his sword slice through the sheet of shadows that pressed against them. He could hear the howls of wolves, of men crying out in pain, arrows zipping from their strings, and the sound of bones cracking.

  “For light!” He cried above the thunderous clamor of battle. “Keep the light burning within you! Do not falter!”

  Without warning, something hard and rocklike whizzed through the air and hit Lancedon from behind, knocking him from his horse.

  “Lancedon!” Coral screamed, as he hit the ice.

  He groaned and quickly stood. Swarms of darkened soldiers pressed around him trying to cut him down.

  “Lancedon!” Coral cried out once more. Her voice was muffled by the shadows that surged in around her.

  “Coral!” he shouted, crying out in anger. He raised his sword, and pushed his way through the masses. Above the sounds of battle he thought he could hear Coral far off. He pushed through soldiers, handling his sword far better than any man with vision. He whirled around, just as a shadowed fiend struck, swinging a mallet on a chain in one hand, and a sword in the other. Lancedon caught the mallet with his sword just before it crushed his head. The chain wrapped around his sword, with a loud clank. The fiend jerked violently back, yanking Lancedon’s sword from his hands.

  The man laughed, raising the sword, ready to bring it down upon Lancedon’s neck.

  “NO!” Lancedon heard Coral scream.

  He heard a twang from Coral’s bow, then a whizzing sound as it was let go, then a gas
p and a thud as the fiend hit the ground, dead.

  “Lancedon!” Coral cried, grabbing him, and yanking him forward towards his horse. “We must get you back on your horse.”

  Just as they neared the animal, a shrill horn sounded out of the darkness, so loud and terrible that Lancedon’s horse to reared back in fear. The horn sounded again, louder and far more fierce. The ice beneath them cracked and shook. Lancedon’s horse screamed in terror, and pulled back, disappearing through the fray.

  As the sound of the horn died out, Lancedon grew vaguely aware of an energy, and a putrid smell far darker than that of The Fallen’s soldiers. It wafted around him like smoke from a chimney. The odor was foul, like an innumerable number of simmering sins, dark deeds, and wicked thoughts. Yet, the smell was strangely familiar. He tried to pinpoint what it was, but he could not tell. Its dark smell enveloped him in thoughts that filled him with doubt, and despair. Accompanied by the smell was a sound of heavy, nasally breathing, and steady, heavy footfalls.

  Lancedon tightened his muscles and stood ready, trying to mark where this being would strike.

  “Lancedon…” Coral gasped, as a tall personage appeared through the darkness. Silvery gleams of blackness glinted off the man like an oily fish that had lived off the spawns of black, glowing maggots his entire life.

  “Ah,” the dark voice crooned. “Lancedon? I thought I might find you here. Back from the dead once again. How may times can you rise from the dead, before you are truly killed?” He cleared his throat and motioned to his personal bodyguard. “Men, make sure no fighting disturbs us while I have one last chat with my nephew.”