Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Rise of the Fallen)

by Ivory Autumn

  Chapter Seven

  Earthrot?

  Krot dragged Andrew along, toward the town of Nookpot, never easing his grip on Andrew's arm, with Ivory following a safe distance behind them.

  When they finally reached Nookpot, Krot threw Andrew down in front of the slave camp gate. “I've brung ya a criminal,” Krot shouted to the guards. “A nasty dangerous one.”

  Andrew knelt before the gate, like the slave he was. He glanced to the side of him, waiting to be accused, and sentenced. To the side of him was the tree he'd touched when he'd first entered Nookpot. The tree looked dead and leafless. Seeing the once lovely green tree dead, hurt worse than anything. What was happening to him?

  “I’ve got an escaped slave, a criminal, plant killing convict on my hands!” Krot yelled. “Doesn't any one around here care?”

  “We’re coming, we’re coming,” a Sontar warden shouted, ambling up to them, along with several other guards, and hissing in amusement. “Now what'sss thisss you've got? An esssscaped sssslave? Imposssssible!”

  “Impossible or not,” Krot said, “he’s a dangerous criminal!”

  “Dangerousss criminal?” the Sontar asked, inspecting Andrew. “He doesn't look so dangerous to me.”

  “Oh,” Krot said, with wide eyes. “But he is. He is!”

  “Fine,” the Sontar sighed in a bored tone. “I'll get the captain and we'll see how dangerous he is.”

  When the captain was summoned, he took one look at Andrew, and let out a loud exclamation of anger. “It’s the boy who escaped from the post.” He lashed out at Andrew, kicking him where he stood. “How did you escape, boy?”

  "I...I..." Andrew gasped, yelping in pain as the Sontar kicked him again.

  Krot frowned, glancing nervously at Ivory. “It doesn’t matter how he escaped. What matters is what he has done.”

  “And what has he done?”

  “That boy is not just any ordinary slave. He's got supernatural powers!”

  The captain leaned in, eager to hear what Krot was about to say. “What kind of powers?”

  “He ruined my garden?”

  The Sontar sniffed, in disgust. “What do you mean?”

  “He used his powers and cast a spell over my plants. With a touch of his hand, he caused my flowers and trees to perish. Isn't that right, boy? Isn't it!”

  “Y...yes...” Andrew faltered, cowering back. "I turned his garden into ash."

  “What kind of human are you?” the captain asked, flicking out his long tongue and showing his fangs. “A Wareleaf? An Earthrot? A mold goblin? Tell me, why does everybody think you are sssso dangerous?”

  “He’s a weapon. That’s what he is,” Krot shouted. “Take him to a field of grain. There you can see him demonstrate his powers in full. Then you can decide what to do with him.”

  “Alright,” the captain agreed, dragging Andrew through the streets of Nookpot. “We shall see what it is this boy can do.”

  Once they reached the field of grain that grew near the borders of Nookpot, the captain pushed Andrew towards it and said, “Now boy, demonstrate your powers!”

  “Please, don’t make me,” Andrew faltered, backing away from the young field of grain, remembering the times that he'd planted grain with his father, back in Hollyhock Hollow, and how he could harvest the grain the same day that he'd planted it. Somehow everything inside him felt different, askew, shaken, wilted and dead. He dared not touch a single green sprig. He dreaded what might happen.

  “Hurry up, you pile of bones!” the Sontar shouted.

  Andrew looked at the Sontar with frightened eyes and shook his head. “I won't.”

  “Fine!” the Sontar thundered. “Then I'll make you.” The Sontar grabbed Andrew and tossed him into the field of grain. The instant Andrew hit the ground, the whole field of grain looked as if it had been hit by a huge gust of hot desert wind. A wilted brown circle of dead grain formed around Andrew and then spread out, until one by one, the stems fell over on top of each other and died, wiping out miles of grain in only a matter of seconds.

  Andrew groaned and sat up. Whatever had happened had caused him to feel limp, weak, tired and out of breath. He let out a low gasp as he stood and gazed at the field. The field was brown. It looked as if a hot wind had run through the whole field and withered the green stalks of the young grain. It was sickening.

  A horrible feeling churned in Andrew's stomach, almost as if he was about to throw up. He gazed down at his hands and fell to his knees, crying out in anguish. How had he done something so terrible? How? He was a plague. The very worst kind. Something that could kill.

  “There!” Krot shouted, finally regaining his voice. “I told you the boy was dangerous. Utterly dangerous. There's no end to what havoc he could cause. Famine, death, destruction!”

  “You’re right,” the Sontar captain hissed. “He isss a living famine. Guardssss, take him into Nookpot, where the old tree growsss in the town square and bring the slavesss, up from the pit to watch the demonstration. We will show the town how dangerous this human is. We'll show the people what happens to slaves who dare defy our power!”

  “Sire,” a Sontar guard murmured, taking the captain aside. “What do you mean? We can’t do anything to this boy. He is not our property. If The Fallen doesn’t have your head for harming the boy, Vargas will, and if he doesn’t, Morack will. And last time I checked, you only have one head to lose.” The Sontar captain hissed, and smiled. “I never ssssaid I was planning on killing the boy. Only that I want to make an example of him."

  The guard nodded. “Oh, I see.”

  The captain, flicked out his tongue, hissed, and walked slowly behind the procession of guards as they pushed Andrew along through the town, summoning the townspeople as they went. Andrew stumbled along, gazing past the frightened faces of the villagers, only seeing the dead field of grain. Guilt welled up inside him, as if he had murdered an innocent, living being.

  When reached the center of the town, they stopped before a giant tree larger, and more beautiful than any tree Andrew had ever seen. Andrew caught his breath, feeling awed by the tree’s beauty. It was not just any tree---it was an old tree whose branches were great, tall, and green, with feathery leaves hugging its branches. Its huge trunk was thick, like it had been growing there since the beginning of time.

  His attention diverted to the crowd of people gathering around him. It looked as if the whole town of Nookpot had been summoned, along with all the slaves.

  Who would have thought that he would become so important a threat, as to summon this great gathering? He scanned the black, coal-covered faces of the gathering slaves, looking for the faces of his friends. He thought he saw Freddie, and maybe Talic, but he couldn‘t be sure. The slaves all looked much the same---tired, dirty, and hungry. Maybe, he was getting the better end of the deal. At least from the looks of it he wouldn’t be a slave much longer.

  The town's people looked like violent, inhuman, angry animal-like creatures. Some had hair growing all over their bodies, like apes with strange red marks on their foreheads. Maybe, Andrew surmised, they weren’t people at all.

  “We bring before you,” the Sontar captain shouted, “an escaped slave. One who has dared to defy our power. A creature so lowly, so destructive that desecrates the very earth he stands on.”

  A low, frightened murmur buzzed through the crowd.

  The Sontar raised his arm to speak again. “This boy has gone against us, injured one of my Trolims, and cast a dark spell over our lands---a boy that could cause the town of Nookpot to perish because of famine!”

  The town’s people hushed in fear, and a deadly silence settled on the crowd.

  “Bring the slave to me,” the Sontar captain commanded.

  The guard pushed Andrew into full view of the people, and their hard, hate-filled gaze fell on him like he was a loathsome disease.

  “Bring him before the tree,” the captain said. “Boy, show them your skill. Show them your awf
ul powers from the underworld!”

  The guards dragged Andrew up to the great tree and thrust him towards it. Andrew instantly recoiled from it, but was only pushed towards it even more. “Let me go!” He cried struggling against the Sontars. “Don’t make me touch it, please!”

  “Show them your powers of darkness boy!” the captain commanded, lifting Andrew to his feet. “Or I’ll bite your fingers off, one by one!”

  Andrew looked at the Sontar, a feeling of dread filling his heart. “Then what I do is on your head, not mine.”

  “Sssso be it,” the Sontar hissed. “A dead tree is nothing, compared to the field of grain you dessstroyed.”

  Andrew shook his head, turned to the tree, and gazed at its huge branches, uttering a low apology. “I’m sorry, old friend.” Then glancing at the faces of the people, his eyes filled with deep sadness.

  “Do it!” The captain barked.

  "No, Andrew," he heard Ivory cry. "Don't."

  "Andrew?" he thought he heard Freddie's voice called out in question.

  But it was too late. Here, exposed to his friends, they would see what he really was. The kind of person he had been all along. Andrew closed his eyes, and knelt before the tree. He placed his hands onto its trunk and closed his eyes. If he could, he would have willed the tree to toss the Sontars away. But something within him had died the day he had left the Hollow, and all that remained was the dead part---the part that felt cracked and wilted.

  The second his hands touched the tree, a great wind came up and blew its branches. The tree shifted and groaned, shivering as if it's spirit was leaving its old wood. Dark veins of dead brown color spread out through the tree's bark, starting at Andrews fingertips, running all the way up through its branches until the tree's green leaves withered and fell down around him, like snow, swirling in the wind.

  As soon as the deed was done, Andrew’s shoulders slumped and he leaned up against the dead tree, exhausted.

  This was his power. This was his curse. This was his shame.

  A wave of panic fell over the crowd, and exclamations of fear filled the air.

  “He's a killer, that's what!” an angry woman screeched.

  “He's a monster,” another shouted. “Something sent from the underworld to kill us all.”

  “He's a mold master,” an man shouted in a frightened voice. “Sent to starve us with famine!”

  “What's to be done with him?” one person wailed.

  “Get rid of him!” the crowd chanted. “Kill him, kill him!”

  “Hang him from the tree!” a dark-eyed, black-faced man offered.

  Andrew looked around at the mob of angry faces, desperate for one kind glance. Never in his life had so many people looked at him with such hate. He couldn’t blame them though. He hated himself. He had nothing left. His life was wrecked. His gifts were now his curse. He only wished he'd been able to do some good with them before this had happened.

  “Kill him, kill him. Hang him from the tree!” the crowd chanted over and over again. “Hang him, hang him from the tree! Hang him!”

  The Sontar captain looked from Andrew to the angry crowd, frightened. He hadn’t meant it to go this far. He couldn’t afford to have the boy die.

  “Wait,” the Sontar cried, holding up his arms, and commanding his soldiers to protect the boy. But the crowd was beyond control. They pushed past the Sontars, grabbed Andrew and jerked him up onto a stool, beneath one of the low branches of the tree. Andrew trembled as a thick rope, was attached to the overhanging branch, and cinched up around his throat. He breathed in short breaths, feeling sweat drip down his forehead.

  Andrew looked at the Sontar captain for help, but the Sontar looked away, unable to stop the angry crowd.

  Andrew wanted to cry out for mercy, for someone to help him, but his pride would not let him. He would die, unloved, and unwanted, to only be remembered as a curse. Then he saw her. Ivory. She was standing behind Krot, her bright green eyes glistened with tears, and she looked at him with such kindness, that a lump came into his own throat. At least she looked like she cared.

  And that was enough.

  “Hang him, hang him!” the crowd chanted over and over.

  Andrew's heart hammered against his chest. The crowd hushed, and a low drumbeat sounded. This was it.

  He stared at Ivory, trying to shut out everything else, hoping his death would be swift, and that all the pain he felt in his heart would speedily melt away as soon as he died.