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

by Ivory Autumn

  Andrew turned away from Croffin and Freddie, more ashamed than ever. He felt thirsty and dried up, as if part of his soul had dried up too. At Croffin’s words, he felt a throb of guilt. Croffin had been right. He had faltered twice. It made him feel very vulnerable and ill at ease---like he couldn’t trust himself. He had been deceived so many times. When would he ever learn? Embarrassed, he marched on ahead, feeling his cracked lips and sunburned skin burn even more under the unrelenting heat of the sun.

  They plodded on through the dry land, closer to the village, through a glen of dead, twisted trees that had become nothing but perverse statues of dry wood. Their smooth trunks and branches looked like gray marble exposed to the heat of the day. Andrew felt keenly drawn to them, out of pity. They had an aura that bespoke of wisdom and a time that had long since passed.

  He placed his hand on one of the tree’s twisted trunks, feeling its smoothness. He closed his eyes, listening.

  “What are you doing?” Croffin spat, staring at Andrew with scorn.

  “Checking to see if it’s alive.”

  “What?” Croffin let out a loud chortling laugh. “Oh, ha, ha. Ch…ecking to see if it’s alive. I don’t have to be an expert to know that all these trees are crispy, dead twigs.”

  Andrew moved away from the tree, and sighed. “Yes, you are right. They are dead. I just wanted to be sure.”

  He moved away from the trees and followed after Croffin and Freddie, feeling a sadness creep over him. The further they went, the dryer the land became. The closer they got to the farms and houses they had seen from the cliff, the more desolated the land looked. Andrew paused at the edge of a village and surveyed the land with hard eyes. He could see fields of corn, wheat, and barley, all brown, and withered. A riverbed that had twisted around the city had become nothing but a dry, empty space.

  They slowly entered the village. A hot wind blew sand and dirt into their faces as they walked through the dusty streets. Not a green blade of grass or living tree was seen anywhere. It seemed as if the city was vacant. Nothing moved except the wind. A creaking window shutter that had not been properly shut was thrashing back and forth in the wind. Somewhere within the city, Andrew thought he heard distant, hints of sad music. It echoed through the dust, and swirled through the ravaged corn fields, like a wandering, restless soul, seeking solace.

  “Do you hear that, Freddie?” Andrew asked.

  “Hear what?”

  “Music. Listen. There it is again. Can’t you hear it?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I do hear something.”

  “I don’t think that’s music,” Croffin interjected. “I think it’s my growling stomach.”

  Andrew laughed. “Croffin, if that is true, I think you should go hungry more often. I kind of like the sound.”

  Croffin folded his arms and looked quite irritated. “I highly object to that idea.”

  “Ah, look, that’s where the music is coming from,” Freddie said, pointing to a small girl sitting on the side of the street. Her face was in her lap, and her shoulders were heaving with great sobs. Standing over her was an older woman, singing a beautiful, sad tune, trying to comfort the girl.

  They walked over to them, and stared at them in concern. “Are you okay?” Andrew asked looking at the small girl, and then at the woman standing over her. The woman wore a plain white dress that was smudged with dirt and ripped, in places. She had kind eyes, and a beautiful face that looked hardened by heat, and hard work. The girl was thin and ragged, but her eyes were wide and beautiful. Her hair was long and hung in strings round her tear-stained face. She looked at Andrew with her big blue eyes, her lower lip trembling.

  The woman looked at Andrew with wild eyes. Her lips pressed together in tight lines. She made no effort to answer him, only continued cradling the crying child in her arms. “We’re thirsty,” the woman finally said, looking directly at Andrew with pleading eyes.

  “Then she better not cry anymore,” Croffin interjected. “Don’t want her to waste more water.”

  “Shut up, Croffin,” Freddie growled, shoving him.

  The woman eyed the strangers with anger, then grabbed her girl and pulled her away from the strangers.

  “Wait,” Andrew cried. “I want to help.”

  “Help?” the woman snapped, turning to face him. “Do you have any water, any food?”

  Andrew’s heart filled with pity for the girl and her mother. Andrew lifted his canteen, and shook his head. “No…” his voice sounded flat and hollow.

  “I thought as much.”

  “What happened to this place,” Andrew wondered.

  “Are you blind?” the woman asked. “The Drought came through here several days ago. Dried up everything---all our land, every well, every pool of water. And killed several of our men as it went through. It’s only a matter of time before we join those who were lost.”

  Andrew’s face lit up as he remembered something. They didn’t have water. But they had gathered a bunch of fruit from the white trees. He quickly drew two of the glowing fruits out of his pack and handed them to the woman. “Please, take these. It isn’t much.”

  “What?” Croffin sputtered, reaching for the canteen. “Don’t give them those. They’re ours!”

  “Croffin!” Andrew shouted, sending Croffin a heated glance. Croffin caught the fire in Andrew’s eyes, and shrunk back. “Fine if you want to give away what sustenance we do have, then be an idiot.”

  “Thank you,” the woman cried, her eyes filling with tears. “Bless you, stranger.”

  “Thank you,” the girl said. Her face was alight with a brilliant smile, as she bit into the glowing fruit.

  “How long have you been without water?”

  “Too long,” the woman answered. “The Drought came up suddenly, just before harvest, and destroyed everything. Dried up every blade of grass, and our well, our last source of life, dried up three days ago. We sent out men to ask for Morack’s aid, for food and water several days ago. Rumor has it that he has food and water in abundance that he will willingly share with those in need. But by the time they get back, it may be too late.”

  “Morack?” Andrew’s heart lurched within him. “He is offering to help?”

  “Yes,” the woman said. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Andrew slowly breathed out, feeling his stomach churn, and his throat tighten.

  As if by mere mention of Morack’s name, a caravan of horses, soldiers, and wagons, bearing food and water entered the village. Eager voices called out to the villagers. “Food, water, supplies! Your fears are at an end. You are saved!”

  Instantly the town became alive, throbbing with cries of laughter, and exclamations of relief. “We are saved, SAVED!”

  The townspeople gathered around the wagons with smiling faces. Their clothes were worn, and dirty, and their eyes were red from the wind constantly blowing sand into their faces. They cried out in happiness, tears streaked down their cheeks, their faces alight with new life. The wagons were instantly surrounded as eager hands began distributing the goods to everyone present.

  “Wait! A soldier cried, slapping a woman’s hand away from the barrel of water. “WAIT!” the soldiers voice cut through the crowd like a bolt of lightning, instantly causing them to cease what they were doing.

  “These wagons of food and water come with a price!” the soldier thundered. “Must I remind you that your people came to us, asked us for help? All Morack asked in return is for you to turn in your weapons and you will never want for food or water again. Your men agreed to this. And furthermore, an edict has been send through all the land, into Morack’s realms and the realm of the great kings, that all weapons will be outlawed from this day on, and the making of such weapons is punishable by death. There shall be no more distributing of food or water until you have fulfilled your end of the bargain. Do you understand?”

  “Our weapons? But why?” the same man asked. His eyes were filled with anger, and he shook his fist at the guard. “If w
e give our weapons to you, how will we feed our families, how will we protect ourselves against marauders?”

  “How will you feed your families?” The soldier let out a loud laugh. “You villagers are naïve, and stupid. You come begging to Morack for food, and yet you say that without what he asks, you will starve. Don’t you know that Morack and The Fallen have vowed to protect you? From this day on you will want for nothing. And that is a promise! If they ask for your weapons, it is for your own good. To keep you safe. You need not question their authority.”

  “I don’t like it…” the man insisted.

  “Fine!” the guard shouted, shutting the back of the wagon. “Then, die, all of you!”

  “Wait!” a frantic woman in the crowd screamed. “Everyone, give them what they want! Please!”

  “We’ll die anyway, if we don’t,” another voice cried out.

  “Yes!” another shouted. “Bring them our weapons. We have no need of them.”

  “Good!” the guard barked. “Hand over all of your weapons and you shall have sufficient food and water for your needs. “Quickly!”

  The crowd stirred, and burbled with angry shouts and cries. The voice of the man who had spoken out against the idea was quickly drowned out by a hundred other, more desperate, voices. Swords, arrows, bows, and other assortments of weapons of various makes and sizes were quickly brought out and handed to the guards who emptied their carts of the supplies, and in turn, the town’s people filled the carts full of their own weapons. Gradually, the wagons were emptied of food, and were heaped with weapons.

  Andrew watched all this with a growing foreboding in his heart. There was little he could do to stop such an exchange. Who was he to stop the people from receiving food and water when they needed it so badly? Who was he to condemn these people to certain death if they did not comply? What were swords, compared to hunger and thirst? How very clever this plan was. He saw, now, why The Drought had been released. By having the people hand over their weapons, The Fallen now had full control.

  How could he stop it? Once the people had given up their weapons, there would be no summoning. There could be no battle. It was already lost on the battlefield of thirst and hunger. Andrew searched the crowd for that one voice who had questioned, yet the man had disappeared into the masses. Andrew felt desperate. His heart felt heavy. He searched inside himself for an answer. What to do? He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Destroying The Shade’s trees was one thing. But to stop a Drought, to summon the people, to awaken them---was quite another.

  “You there!” A guard shouted, pointing in Andrew’s direction. “I said all the weapons. I can see your sword hidden beneath your cape. Don’t try to hide it. Hand it over, now!”

  Andrew’s heart beat faster. He looked to Freddie and Croffin. His eyes filled with surprise and fear. Croffin looked as if he might run up to the soldier and hand him his small weapon. Andrew quickly yanked him back. Andrew stood in front of his friends, unmoving, his eyes hard, and his jaw set.

  “I said, hand it in!” The soldier insisted, looming before Andrew. “What are you waiting for? If you withhold just one of your weapons, I won’t hesitate to take back all the supplies we have given this village, do you understand!” His voice had grown so loud that it had gotten the attention of the villagers.

  They all looked at Andrew and the soldier, their faces ridden with worry. “Give it to him. Give him what he asks!” The voices of the towns’ people were angry, and desperate.

  Andrew stood still, his eyes firm, and his face angry. “No!”

  The soldier’s face turned red with anger. “What did you say?”

  “I said no! I won’t give you my sword!”

  At his words, the villagers burst into an angry roar, and surged in around him, trying to rip his sword from his hands.

  “Freddie, Croffin, follow me!” He pushed though the crowd. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he raised his sword, and fought his way to the back of one of the wagons filled with weapons, with Croffin and Freddie by his side. Startled by this sudden burst of violence, the angry mob fell back, mesmerized by the weapon that Andrew carried. Andrew steadied himself on the piles of weapons and lifted up his sword, shouting at the top of his lungs. His sword looked huge in his hands, like a bar of lightning stuck to the end of a golden handle.

  The people gasped and fell back when they saw it. The soldiers gathered around the wagon, their eyes filled with fire, their own weapons ready to strike.

  “Stand back!” Andrew ordered, his voice thick with anger. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his face. His eyes were filled with indignation, and his hands shook as he held the sword. Croffin and Freddie stood by him. Fear and uncertainty shone on their faces.

  Everyone looked to him, waiting, watching, wondering.

  The silence was heavy, as the heat beating down on the crowd, pressuring him to speak. He looked into the faces of the people. Most of their eyes showed fear; and some looked angry. But mostly there was fear.

  He held the sword high, and looked to the soldiers. “I and my friends are strangers to this village, so do not take your anger out on these people. We have not taken of your supplies, so we are not bound by the same promise. However, regardless of the dire circumstances of this village, I can no longer sit silently by and watch as they hand in their weapons without giving a word of caution. Oh, good villagers, if you give up your weapons today, you will have given up your last means of defense. Don’t you see that you must not give in! For on the day that you do, you lose your last means of independence and you may never get it back again!”

  The people cried out in angry shouts, swelling with fear and worry, that the soldiers might think them of the same mind as Andrew.

  “Please! Listen!” Andrew cried above the angry crowd. “I’ve been sent here to warn you that if you do not take a stand while there is still time, it will be too late. If you let The Fallen rule over you, you will become a fallen people. Do you not see, if you do not awake, and listen while there is still a little time left, while there is still hope left, you may not be able to take back what you have so foolishly given away for a morsel of bread.”

  “But we have no choice!” the crowd cried.

  “I know,” Andrew said. “That is why I am here. To give you a choice, where there was none.”

  “Lies!” The soldiers shouted, trying to sway the crowd. “Silence these traitors! Those who rule you have only wanted what is best for the people. They have always given the people their freedom, and protection, and security.”

  “You are not FREE!” Andrew shouted, his voice strong and powerful. “Have you have forgotten so quickly?”

  “Free?” A soldier barked, turning to the crowd and lifting up his hands in reassurance. “You have been always free. Your rulers have always seen to it that you have been free from fear, free from war, free from ignorance, free from poverty, and even now he has sent this wagon full of food and water, so that you will be free from hunger! This boy is a conspirator trying to divide the people against their own rulers!”

  “No!” Andrew shouted, his voice filled with emotion. “You are not FREE! Even a master of slaves provides food for those who serve him. For you have sold yourselves into bondage, and willingly, at the price of your firstborn, and the promises of a better future. Look at yourselves. You have believed in a lie, a great lie that has covered the world and shrouded even the sharpest of minds with vain promises, and cheap indulgences. Do you not remember what it was like, not so long ago? The days when you kept what you earned, in the days when you were free to do as you sought fit for yourselves? Do you not remember the days when speaking your mind was not a crime? Do you not remember what it was like to be really free? You may have gained a crust of bread, or water today, but for what? To prolong a life of captivity?”

  “We are free, you idiot!” A man shouted, trying to pull Andrew off the wagon. “We are alive. And that is what matters!”

  “Kill t
hem!” The guards shouted. “They speak against their sovereigns, and will pay with their lives.”

  Andrew didn’t seem to hear the guard, or the angry shouts of the people. He quickly scanned the crowd for one face, one hint of light. The only faces he saw were that of the woman and child he had helped, and the man who had first spoken. It was to those he looked, and then held up his sword. The light it bore had grown dim, its grandeur suppressed by the angry people gathering round him. Yet he held it proudly. “I know that you cannot follow me now. I understand that you are hungry and thirsty. I, too, am thirsty, and have fallen prey to the mirages that cannot satisfy. But I know now where these mirages lead. They aren’t real. Today he may feed you. But tomorrow he may use you for fuel. A false trust in The Fallen will only lead to captivity. But soon, when the Drought has been broken, you may remember my words, and follow. Until then, I will keep charge of what you have freely given away.”

  The crowd surged in around him, trying to pull him and his friends off the wagon. He cried out in anger, and pushed away from the people and their grasping hands.

  The wagon suddenly jerked to life as Freddie cracked a whip against the horses at the front of the wagon. The wagon lurched forward with a start, nearly toppling Andrew onto a protruding spear. Andrew quickly climbed over to the front of the wagon with Freddie, watching as the crowd of soldiers and villagers was left far behind.

  “Andrew!” Croffin howled, clambering over the heaps of steel and iron weapons, higher into the wagon. “Look they’re coming after us. They’re going to kill us!”

  Chapter Seven

  Fighting blind

  The further away from Danspire they got, the drier, and dustier it became. The green land of only a few months back had turned a sickly brown. Trees had died. The grass had become nothing but stalks of dry tinder.

  Their horses breathed heavily in time with the pounding of their hooves hitting the ground as if in rhythm to some internal war dance.