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

by Ivory Autumn

  “Help!” Andrew managed to scream, struggling against the shadows.

  The second those words fell from his lips, the ground rumbled, causing a few of the shadows to dart away, and then the dirt beneath him exploded with wriggling, white tree-roots. One of the roots snatched him and Freddie up, and cut through the host of shadows. Before Andrew got a chance to see anything else, the root holding him and Freddie yanked him down into the ground, through a complex network of rooty passages that seemed to go on forever, then expelled them back up through the ground. The white tree root slowly released them, depositing Andrew’s sword on the ground near their feet. Then, after checking to make sure that the boys were safe, the tree roots slowly slithered back into the ground as if reluctant to bid the boys goodbye.

  Andrew lay on the ground and coughed. He slowly sat up, and stared at the place the root had deposited them. Instead of the forest of shadows and quakies, they were on the side of a hill, with only grass and very few trees. It was quiet and almost peaceful.

  “Freddie?” Andrew asked wiping dirt and mud off his face. “You okay?”

  Freddie coughed, and nodded. “Yeah.”

  Andrew slowly stood up, and gazed over the hill. They were on a low knoll, overlooking The Shade's forest. Beyond that lay flat lands, hemmed by a line of beautiful red rocks that were carved into the mountainside, like carved-out castle walls that went on for miles.

  “Where are we?” Freddie wondered, dazed.

  “Just outside The Shade’s forest,” Andrew murmured, gazing at the dark forest, and the jungly tangle they had passed through to get there.

  Freddie still looked confused. “But how is it possible?”

  Andrew stared out into the darkness, his eyes shining. “The white tree’s roots extend much farther than I ever imagined. It is to them we owe our thanks.”

  Freddie smiled. “Guess, it always helps to have a few trees on your side. Though, I don’t know if going by root is the best way to travel.”

  “I suppose there are worse ways.” Andrew glanced to the spot of ground where the tree roots had slithered back underground.

  His eyes widened. He thought he could see a dark outline of a thin, shadowy hand reaching through the dirt, grasping at clods, trying to pull itself up and out of the hole.

  “Shadows!” Freddie cried, grabbing Andrew and pulling him away from the hole. “They’re coming for us. Hurry, let’s get out of here.”

  The struggling hand of The Shadow grasped the side of the earth and managed to pull itself through the opening and onto the surface. It settled there, like a dark curtain waiting to be drawn over the entire world. “You can never escape from shadows,” it hissed. “We are everywhere. Behind you, to the side of you, lurking, waiting, watching. We are in the darkest recesses of your mind. Ready to snatch you up when you are not looking.”

  Its voice was suddenly cut off as a white tree root burst through the earth once again and snatched the shadow, dragging it away, and plunged it back into the earth. A heavy silence followed.

  Andrew peered into the hole, and sighed in relief. “I think it’s gone.”

  “Shadows are never gone,” a nasally-sounding voice said, from behind them.

  “Croffin?” Andrew asked, turning around just in time to see Croffin’s raccoon face staring out at him as he walked through the tall grass.

  “Surprised?” Croffin asked, grinning. He had his little book of weeds tucked tightly to his chest. His body looked gaunt. His fur was frazzled as if he hadn’t eaten or slept for awhile.

  “Yes,” Freddie cut in. “We haven’t seen you for days, and then suddenly you appear. Where have you been?”

  Croffin pasted on a meager grin, and scratched a flea behind his ear. “Oh I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy?” Andrew asked. “Doing what?”

  “You look as if you didn’t believe me. I was busy. Busy being stuck inside a stupid quaking aspen hollow. It thought it wanted me for its lunch. And it was only through my genius that I escaped.” Croffin raised himself up on his hind legs and sniffed the air. A warm wind came up from behind and a cold wind came in front, tossing up loose grasses and leaves and throwing them into the air, creating a dust devil. “My, my. The winds of the North and South blow together in the dead of night. Andrew what have you done? I have never seen such a sight, especially at night. Andrew I do believe you have condemned the people of the land to a waterless, dry winter.”

  “What do you mean?” Andrew questioned.

  Croffin cocked his head to the side, trying to look very wise, and sage- like, but he only succeeded in looking more Croffin-like. “You don’t know the rhyme. When two winds blow from the north and south, know that The Shade has thus summoned a dusty Drought. ”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s a nursery rhyme my mother used to sing to me as a young coonling.”

  “Some bedtime story to tell a child,” Freddie breathed. “Your mother must have really been something.”

  Croffin nodded. “Ah, she was. How I miss her.”

  Andrew looked at the swirling leaves the wind had tossed into the air. “What do you mean that I have summoned The Drought?”

  Croffin shrugged. “Never mind. It’s probably nothing. A silly story.”

  “No, really. How would have I summoned such a thing?” Croffin yawned, and stretched his furry arms. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps by killing The Shade’s trees you have made him angry, and now he’s striking back.”

  “How do you know I destroyed his trees? You weren’t there.”

  “You’d be surprised how many things you can see, and hear when stuck inside a hollow tree.”

  “Oh.”

  “If it’s true,” Freddie consoled, “at least we won’t have to travel in snow.”

  “Yeah,” Croffin murmured, his eyes growing dark. “But there are worse things than being cold.”

  “I agree,” Freddie said, “and it’s being a coward.”

  Chapter Five

  The Drought

  The Drought watched as Morack and his men departed on their horses until they eventually vanished in a desert mirage.

  Morack had come far to release him, and for that he was grateful. It was true Morack had asked him to leave Danspire untouched. However, The Drought had other ideas. Droughts never regarded a humans’ wish for leniency towards a particular place or spot of land. Droughts did their work their way, in their time, where they wanted, when they wanted. Few things could break them, few things could contain them. However, The Drought was not entirely ungrateful to Morack for releasing him. For that, The Drought would try to constrain himself and to do what Morack asked. At least for a while. The Shade would have wanted it that way, since the dangerous boy was last seen in its forest. He would start near there. Pity The Shade hadn’t done his job and killed the boy. The Drought licked his dry lips with his dehydrated tongue, and stretched his long unused limbs.

  “I am free. FREE!” he roared, standing to his full height, sending clouds of dust devils into the air as he spoke. His words caused the dry desert floor to crack and shake. His powerful voice caused the tall sand dunes to level out over the land like ocean waves tossed by a mighty wind. Once The Drought had regained the use of his crusty limbs, he traveled tirelessly in the opposite direction of Danspire. He journeyed for days, taking with him the dry wind of the desert and the heat of the sun, only stopping when he reached his destination. Once there, he stopped and gazed out over the land. The Drought took dry pride in doing his job well---doing it to perfection, drying up hundreds of years of abundant winters with one long stare from his parched eyes. This time, his job would take longer, as he had been called to dry up much more land than he’d ever been summoned to do in his parched life.

  The Drought stepped onto a tall ledge and scanned the beautiful green fields that the villagers were just starting to harvest before the last hard frost. He stared at the land with his waterless eyes. He licked his dry lips with his thirsty tongue
and chewed on his cheek. The green pasturelands hugged the earth like a carpet, branching out into flourishing farmlands in every direction.

  The Drought’s face was as crusty and as parched and hard as desert-mud that had baked in the sun for centuries. He stood there on the hill, his back bent like a gargoyle as he soaked in the sun. Each second he stood there, the clouds that had been billowing in the sky, moved and gradually evaporated, until the sky was a bare-naked blue. All her white scarf had vanished, leaving the earth fully exposed to the sun. It wasn’t until his skin started flaking and falling from his face, that he set his gaze on the green land before him. His gaze was like the hot glare of a magnifying glass, bringing with it a hot wind and billows of sand. Under his gaze, the ground around The Drought gradually became brown, stemming out from where his feet touched, spreading further inland until the grass withered, and green fields not-yet harvested, went dry, and withered into dust. Wells, rivers, lakes, streams, from least to great, dried up.

  When the last blade of grass had withered and turned to dust, The Drought let out a dry laugh and turned away from the destruction he had caused. Fully satisfied at his work, he disappeared into a desert mirage, continuing his path of destruction.

  Chapter Six

  Mirage

  Andrew stood dangerously close to the edge of a rocky cliff, staring out into the wilderness. Dotting the land below him were many houses and villages, with farms that looked as if they had been touched by The Drought’s hand. Everything was so dry and brittle, a single spark could ignite the entire village.

  “Croffin was right, I have summoned a Drought,” Andrew murmured, feeling the hot dry wind blow into his face. The wind brought with it a stifling, strange smell of smoldering, baked greens and rotten roots cooked by the sun. Every tree, every twig, every green blade of grass, every drop of water, every lake had been dried up. Looking at the land made his throat dry and his eyes burn.

  “Yes,” Croffin agreed. “You surely have summoned it.”

  Freddie let out a loud laugh. He stared at Croffin, then at Andrew. “If there is a Drought, it’s not because of Andrew. It’s because the sun is hot, and it hasn’t rained for awhile, that’s all.”

  “No,” Croffin retorted. “This is the work of The Drought’s hand. He is a living, breathing personage that can dry up the ocean with a single glance. It is he who soaks up the clouds into his being, makes it so it can never rain, and causes the earth to bake and wells to dry up. He magnifies the rays of the sun under his withering glare. He has been released because of Andrew. If he hadn’t destroyed The Shade’s trees, things would have been better off. I’m sure of it.”

  “Well,” Andrew said. “If this is my fault, I need to figure out how to stop it.”

  “Good luck with that,” Croffin grumbled. “Droughts can’t be stopped. They can only be broken. And don’t ask me how. I’m only a silly coon after all,” he sniffed. Then, taking his book in his hand, he turned and began marching down the cliff towards the village. His skunk’s tail swished this way and that as he bobbed over the slippery slope. “Coming?” He asked, pausing to look behind him at Freddie and Andrew.

  They nodded, and slowly made their way after him. Once at the bottom of the cliff, they found that the air had become far more hot, and dry. A relentless wind pushed against them as if trying to blow them into the village. Sand and dust polluted the sky making the sun look red, and hotter than ever.

  The closer they got to the village, the dryer the earth became. The road was lined with tall trees, that were dry and as bleached as brittle bones. Their once green leaves were brown and crunchy, baked to their branches as if the entire row of trees had died in one night, and hadn’t gotten the chance to shed their leaves. Fields of once green grass, and wildflowers were parched and brown. The wind blew through the dry field, making their brittle stems rustle and pop, a sound so dry that it might cause the field to suddenly combust.

  The heat dripped down from the sun in sticky sheets. And once the sun’s rays touched your skin, there was no shaking it off. It wrapped around you like a pile of blankets, smothering you, making the air heavy and unbearable. Sweat trickled down Andrew’s back, causing his clothes to stick to his skin, making him hotter and more miserable.

  He groaned, wiped his forehead, feeling very tired, and very thirsty. Wafts of heat rose up from the ground to greet the sun, creating mirages with wings and dazzling hair that swirled and danced, and beckoned to them enticingly.

  Andrew’s head felt hot and dizzy. The heat was so concentrated that he could not think. His tongue felt heavy, and stuck to the roof of his mouth, like cotton. He reached for his canteen, but it was empty. Angry, he glanced up, instantly transfixed by a dozen mirages that beckoned to him. They were beautiful creatures, these mirages, fairies of the sun, created by pools of concentrated sunshine. They shimmered and glistened like liquid. Their hair flowed down around them like flowing waterfalls, and gurgling brooks. Their faces were warm, but glistened like frozen ice. Their arms were slender and reached out, urging him to come to them, to be cooled by their liquid touch.

  He was mesmerized by their beauty. Their faces were gentle, their wings like rivulets of water that sparkled in the sun. He licked his cracked lips, as if the mirages could quench his thirst.

  “Come,” their voices urged. “Come!”

  Their words fell on his ears like soft rain, soothing him, causing him to hear nothing else.

  Andrew’s thinking became fogged. He could think of nothing else but to greet these mirages, and to be cooled by their touch. He took a step towards them, and let one of the mirages take him by the hand. Its touch was pleasant, like ice and snow. It cooled him, caused him to feel as if he was floating. The sensation made him feel very good. The mirage tugged at his arm, trying to pull him deeper into the haze of mirages that gathered around him creating a strange mirror-like wall.

  “Come!” the mirage urged him, pulling him towards the glass wall of liquid.

  Andrew stepped towards the crystal wall. In it he could see his own reflection. He touched the wall. Bits of the liquid stuck to his fingers, causing his fingers to tingle. “Hurry!” the mirage called to him.

  He moved closer, then suddenly stopped, seeing not only his reflection, but Croffin’s and Freddie’s, as well. They were running towards him looking frantic.

  He thought he could hear muffled voices. Recognition dawned on him.

  “Wait!” He cried, struggling as several mirages wrapped their flowing fingers round his arms, tugging at him.

  Just as he was thrust into the wall, something yanked him back. Instantly the mirage, cracked, evaporated, dissolving into a puff of heat.

  Andrew lay on his back on the dry, dusty earth, panting. The heat hit him in the face, causing the mind-numbing waters of the mirages to flow quickly away. The stark heat, and thirst returned, making him long for the mirages.

  “What were you thinking?” Freddie asked, peering over him. “You could have been turned into one of them. You could have been turned into nothing but a heat wave. They would have bound you to their will, evaporated you into thin air. How would you like that?”

  Andrew rubbed his eyes, and groaned, slowly standing. “I’m sorry. I just…” He couldn’t think of the right words. He glanced longingly in the direction of the mirages that flitted just out of reach, beautiful beams of living liquid.

  Freddie followed his gaze, and quickly shook Andrew by the shoulders. “Snap out of it. Those creatures won’t quench your thirst any more than eating a pile of sand will. I know you are thirsty. So am I. But don’t look at them! We have to help each other. Okay?”

  Andrew nodded, struggling to avert his eyes away from the tempting mirages. With the absence of the mirages, the intensity of the heat beat down on him far worse than it had before, as if punishing him. He wanted to look at the mirages so badly, wanted to go back. He could feel his will bending under the pressure and heat.

  “You’re stronger than them, Andrew,” F
reddie said, helping him to stand. “We can do this, Andrew. We just need to keep going.”

  Andrew moaned, and stumbled, leaning on Freddie as they pushed through the flitting mirages that reached out at them, trying to snag them in their clutches. The mirages’ liquid voices called out to them, tempting them to quench their thirst. Freddie’s resolve began to wane. Then without even knowing it, both he and Andrew faltered and began to be entwined by the shroud the mirages cast.

  Croffin walked behind them, with his head in his book of weeds, seemingly not tempted in the least, nor did he seem interested in where he was walking. He was wholly absorbed in his book so that he did not see that Andrew and Freddie were marching into the clutches of the mirages. He absently glanced up. His eyes filled with irritation and then horror as the mirages pulled his friends towards them.

  Angry, he thumped his book shut so quickly that it created a gust of wind that scattered the mirages in a great cloud of dust.

  “What do you know,” Croffin grumbled, marching past Andrew and Freddie who stood in a daze. “Me and my book saved you, again. I guess Andrew’s, just as mortal as the rest of us. Falling prey to the mirages twice in one day! My, my. If I didn’t know any better, I would say…”

  “What?” Freddie snapped, rubbing his dry eyes, trying to shake off the effect the Mirages had on him.

  “Nothing,” Croffin said, hugging his book tightly to his chest. “Nothing at all. Only that, perhaps we shouldn’t…oh never mind. It’s not important.”

  The shroud of mirages had vanished, leaving them alone to walk alone through the dry, dusty earth.