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

by Ivory Autumn

  “Where are we going?” Ivory asked.

  “To the sea.”

  “Andrew’s by the sea?”

  The man turned around and glared at her. “You ask too many questions!”

  Ivory quickly averted her eyes from the creature’s dry, thirsty stare. It made her tongue feel heavy, and her skin itch.

  Talic looked up, his whisker-covered face bobbing up and down as he grinned, showing off the dangling legs of a large cricket between his teeth.

  Ivory grimaced. “Oh gross, Talic, really! Must you behave so?”

  Talic didn’t seem to take any notice of her, and continued scanning the ground for any more edibles.

  “Come!” the creature commanded, marching on ahead. Then pausing as if he had forgotten something, he stopped and glanced at Ivory. “One more thing. You must remember, never, never to stare into my eyes.”

  Ivory nodded. She had already surmised as much because of the way it made her feel. “But why?’

  “Because!” the creature barked, his voice cruel and hard. “Just don’t. Or you’ll regret it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  To Crack a Drought

  The sun was beginning to rise over the ocean, sending rays of pink, yellow, and orange light in vivid shafts over its angry surface, as if trying to calm its turbulent waves.

  A blast of cool, salt-dense wind hit Andrew in the face, cooling his overtaxed body. He and Freddie pushed on through the sand, heaving the chest.

  It had taken them over four days to get this far. Andrew’s face was parched red, baked. His lips were sore and cracked. Even his thin shoes felt like they had bonded to his feet from the heat of the earth he traversed. Heat seemed to bubble up from the sand, mixing with the cool wind from the ocean, like two currents of water.

  Andrew stood on the edge of a sandy hill overlooking the Pipewhistle Sea. He smiled, as he looked out over its wide expanse. It was a beautiful blue-green, foaming at the mouth, spitting up angry white froth as it heaved against the boulders on the shoreline.

  Andrew closed his eyes, listening to the roar of the sea as it filled the air with its tumultuous noise.

  The sound was so loud, so forceful, so powerful, so windy. It refreshed them after their long trek, of endlessly pushing and pulling the chest.

  Andrew had been stubborn in refusing help, at first, but without Freddie helping to move the chest, he would still be back there, baking in the sun, with buzzards soaring overhead waiting to pick his bones.

  Another blast of wind blew off the water and stirred through Andrew’s hair and filled his nostrils with the smell of salt.

  “I see no Drought here,” Croffin said, standing on his haunches, letting the wind blow against him as if he liked it. “I think that Drust is a little loopy in the head, that’s what. He sent us on a wild goose chase. And for what? He’s fooled all of us. Fooled you, Andrew, into taking that heavy chest off his hands. For all we know, whatever is in there could be dangerous, toxic, horrible---wild creatures. Yes, furious beasts that will consume us the instant you release them. That is why he wanted us to take it so badly. And now here we are at the edge of the sea, and still, no sign of The Drought. It’s a trick. I’m sure of it. He had you take the chest to weigh you down so that whoever is after us will catch up to us and kill us.”

  “You sound a little too paranoid,” Andrew said, staring down at Croffin. “I trust Whab and Drust. They helped us, you know.”

  Croffin folded his arms and frowned. “Helped. Ha. Hindered is a better word. I think you trust folks too easily, my boy. It would better serve you to distrust folks until they give you a reason to trust them, that’s what!”

  “But they did give me a reason to trust them.”

  “Sure…like how?”

  “They helped Freddie. They gave us a place to rest. They fed us, and gave us water to drink.”

  “Humph. That’s not much. Anyone could have done that. And most would. I still say, you trust people too easily.”

  “Maybe I do,” He gazed out at the vast, blue-green waters hopefully. He left the chest where it was on the top of the hill, and walked to the edge of the shore. The sea thundered against huge volcanic rocks that stuck up out of the water. The roar was so loud that it almost drowned out any conversation. Above the roar was a pleasant, mournful whistling sound, as if the wind from the ocean was blowing through holes in the volcanic rocks on shore, making flute-like sounds.

  Andrew took off his shoes, and stepped into the water, savoring the feeling of the cool water washing over his feet. He laughed, and splashed into it, letting the clean water flow against his dusty body.

  The water was wild, and restless, like a black stallion, yet deep, and full of great wisdom that it would willingly share only if one were brave enough to ask.

  “Never saw the sea before,” Freddie murmured, splashing after Andrew. “I always thought it would sound different.”

  “What did you expect it to sound like?” Croffin spat, sitting daintily on the edge of the shore, careful not to get his paws wet.

  Freddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe more peaceful.”

  “Peaceful?” Croffin balked. “Ha. The sea is anything but. It is a raging lion, an angry bull, a savage tiger waiting to gobble you up. The moment it stills, it purrs, calmly waiting to pounce on you and drag you under the second you are lulled by its deceiving waters.”

  “Sounds as if you don’t like the ocean much,” Freddie mused.

  “Nope. Never have, never will. It’s too big and wet, for me.”

  “I think it’s wonderful!” Andrew said, his face lighting up. He ran through the cool water and swam against the pull of the crashing waves letting the water wash over him. He steadied himself against the pounding waves, and came up laughing. The water renewed him, made him feel alive, and awake. He wiped water from his face and glanced back at Freddie and Croffin. They both stood very still, staring at a large, dry, dusty creature standing just a few feet away from the shore. The creature loomed over the edge of the ocean like a towering mountain covered in cracked clay and sand. Its hands were outstretched, its face dry, and crumbly as a corpse that had been in the grave for a thousand years.

  The moment Andrew saw it he knew what it was. The Drought.

  The Drought laughed when he spotted Andrew. The sound was loud and dry, as if the sandy air expelled from his lungs had turned to glass marbles from the heated blast in his throat.

  “Come!” The Drought boomed louder than the roaring waves. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Without fully realizing what he was doing, he splashed through the water towards The Drought. He stopped just as he reached the shore. He stood before the formidable creature, mesmerized by its volume, and stature. Andrew felt small, and dwarf-like next to such a tall, powerful mountain-like creature. It was as if he was looking up into the face of the being that created thirst itself---something so powerful that years of abundance and prosperity were dried up and evaporated with a single glance. The Drought’s big, glistening eyes caught the light of the sun, magnifying its heat a thousand times over, creating a wave of heat he could not escape. It enfolded him, grasping him into its clutches. He felt like a rabbit caught in the strong jaws of some wild creature. In The Drought, fullness was emptiness, and emptiness was fullness. In such a creature there was no mercy, no conscience, no constraint---only greed, and a continual thirst that was never quenched, never satisfied, never appeased. In The Drought, Andrew saw a thousand waterless deserts, fields of bleached bones, withered leaves, dead trees, dry wells, empty lakes, thirsty throats, years of rainless summers, snowless winters, weary backs, and broken souls. In him, there was only dust, bitterness and consuming heat. With a single glance, its gaze could ignite a forest fire that would burn long into the winter. In the Drought’s eyes were dust devils and waves of heat that were so destructive that nothing could stand before it. His eyes were large and glassy---they shone and glistened, like two pools of water in the desolated desert of his
face. Around the edges of his watery eyes, was a buildup of gritty sand that shifted and cracked as he blinked.

  What this creature left behind was only destruction, ravaged lands, and other creatures like itself, buzzards to scavenge whatever it had left behind.

  Andrew quickly averted his gaze away from the creature’s huge, glassy eyes, feeling instantly very thirsty. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, and his lips cracked. His skin felt hot and sapped of moisture. It was as if he were a tender plant beginning to wilt before the beating of the sun. A subtle fear crept over him as his thirstiness increased. He looked behind him at Freddie and Croffin. They stood petrified in place, overcome by fear of moving, as if held captive by some unseen hand. Andrew felt overcome by a terrible urge to swim into the ocean and never look back.

  How could he have been responsible for releasing such a horrible plague? What could he do to stop this terrible creature? Before it, the mighty oak, the vast field, the strongest man down to the least, from beast, to creeping bug, from the smallest teardrop, to the greatest lake, all had succumbed to its will.

  “We finally meet,” The Drought’s hot voice called to him sending a blast of heat that pricked Andrew’s skin, burned his eyes, and dried up the water that lapped around his feet, cracking the sand beneath them.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” The Drought went on. “After all, it is you who is responsible for my release. I have done great things to the land, to the whole world, in fact. My touch has been felt far and wide, from the greatest, to the least. All have felt my power, all have bent under my heated gaze. It is the people of the world who have you to thank for my release. And I, too, I thank you for it.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Andrew shot back. “I had nothing to do with your release.”

  “Oh, don’t underestimate how important you are, Andrew. Whether you believe it or not, you were the reason. And for that, I must now destroy you before you destroy me.”

  “How do you know I can destroy you?” Andrew questioned. “You yourself stated that none, not even the greatest, can stand before you.”

  “Yet,” The Drought’s crumbly voice went on, “you are here, standing before me, why…?” He paused, and smiled. “I’ll tell you why, because somehow you know that only you can break me, only you, the reason that I am free, can stop me. Though I have you to thank for my freedom, I must also eliminate you before you eliminate me. I have been very curious to see what kind of soul you are. I had hoped you were something a bit more…formidable. But to look at you, I am very disappointed. I had hoped to find a bigger reason for my release, something of a foe, something worthy of my waiting---perhaps a towering soul full of water and will, a strong current not easily broken. But you are nothing but a small pool, a puddle really, easily dried up, easily evaporated. And I will see to it this very day. I will see to it that you will cower before me like all the rest have!”

  At his words, Andrew heard someone scream. The voice sounded like Ivory’s. It triggered something deep within him, fear, confusion, anger---hope.

  The Drought reached behind his massive self, and tossed Ivory and Talic to their knees before him---at least Andrew thought the other person was Talic. Andrew couldn’t be sure, because the boy had weird, long, jagged ears, and even longer whiskers protruding from his face. His eyes were red and wild, and strange, random whiskers stuck out from his body like a wind-blown dandelion.

  Andrew hadn’t seen Ivory and Talic in such a long time, he couldn’t believe that The Drought had brought them to him. Both Talic and Ivory looked parched and very thirsty. Their blistered faces were sun-baked, and peeling. Their lips were cracked and bleeding. They looked too weak to get up from where The Drought had thrown them. Ivory’s hair was frazzled and hung in tangled knots over her face. She looked up, trying to push herself, but unable to stand. She stared at him through pleading eyes. “Andrew?” she whispered, her voice cracking in her throat. “Don’t…” Her throat was so dry that the words never came out.

  “Ivory? Talic?” Andrew cried, taking a step towards The Drought. “What have you done to them?”

  “Nothing a little water won’t cure,” The Drought sneered.

  “Let them go!” Andrew commanded.

  “I will.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’ll let them go. If you’ll just let me look into your eyes.”

  “Look into my eyes?”

  “No!” Ivory shook her head. Her eyes were filled with fear. Her voice trembled, scraping out of her dry mouth with each painful syllable “Don’t.”

  “Quiet!” The Drought roared expelling a withering wave of heat over Ivory. She groaned, and lay stretched out over the sand, uttering not a word.

  “It is your life or the lives of your companions,” The Drought said. “Choose quickly, or I will not hesitate to dry up the girl first, then the boy, and then your companions behind you.”

  His words hit Andrew in the face, blasting him with heat and sharp sand, causing him to step back. His skin burned, his throat felt dry and sticky. His eyes burned as if he had never blinked before in his life. His chest ached and throbbed as if his heart knew what was coming, knew that it would soon be dried up and all the blood with it. He looked at Ivory’s pitiful figure, outstretched on the hot sand, Talic whimpering near her feet, yelping and quivering like a frightened mouse. Behind him, the roar of the ocean had gone quiet, calmed as if it, too, expected its depths to be dried up. He pictured Freddie and Croffin behind him, their fate now in his hands. The Drought himself had said that he was the only one who could destroy it. Yet, he knew nothing of Droughts. He had no burst of inspiration. No profound insight into what would bring it down.

  Drust had told him not to worry about what he should do when faced with The Drought, but to act, to take a step of faith. Hadn’t Drust looked into his future, hadn’t Drust seen this very moment? If it was his fate to die today, wouldn’t Drust have told him? If his future steps were already recorded somewhere, waiting for him to travel the path that only he knew he would take, if he was to act, if he was to have faith, if he was to see where his steps took him, he knew the only thing for him to do was step forward.

  He swallowed, feeling his dry throat burn, and itch as if he’d swallowed a hive of bees. He took a brave step forward, and looked up, gazing into The Drought’s eyes. “Fine,” Andrew said. “If that is your wish. I will look into your eyes. But spare my friends.”

  The Drought’s crusty lips turned into a cracked smile, his whole dry face splintering like a dry desert floor. “Good. You have chosen wisely. Your friends I will let go free. You have nothing to worry about. You will hardly feel a thing. It will all be over very quickly. After you are gone, I will dry up this ocean, and every other ocean on the earth! I will become the greatest Drought that has ever been or ever will be. This destruction that is coming upon the earth will not be stopped. I am just one of the many plagues. Plagues that will herald in the greatest plague of all---Darkness. And you will not be here to witness it!” The Drought grabbed Andrew, and pulled him closer to his eyes. “You have given me your word, now gaze deeply into my eyes and do not look away, for if you do, I will not hesitate to turn your friends into dust!”

  Andrew squirmed against the sandy hand of The Drought. Its touch seared his skin. But he did not look away. He stared courageously into the glistening pools of The Drought’s eyes. With each second his body felt emptier. His eyes burned as if he was staring directly into the face of the sun. The skin around his eyes shriveled. The skin on his body began to sag, he felt as though he was turning into powder, and might at any moment blow away with the wind.

  Ivory screamed. He heard Freddie cry out. But they sounded very far away and distant. Somewhere, Andrew could hear Freddie sloshing through the water. Croffin’s voice was out there somewhere moaning.

  “You will not get in my way, boy,” The Drought breathed, shaking Andrew with his crusty hands. Andrew continued to stare, blinking back tears that dried up almost as ins
tantly as they hit his cheeks. He yearned to turn his head, to close his eyes, to break The Drought’s molten stare.

  “Your body contains more water than I thought,” The Drought breathed, his face cracking into a disturbing smile. His breath caused Andrew’s skin on his face to burn, peel, and blister.

  The life in him ebbed, his stomach felt strange, his legs teetered beneath him, his hands shook. He felt very dry and brittle like a cracker. He moaned, too weak to pull away. He wanted to. But he could not. The Drought stared into Andrew’s eyes like an all consuming raging inferno.

  Andrew’s eyes watered, his face dripped with sweat, his throat was so dry that even water would stick in it if he drank it. He could feel himself drying up, like a fish out of water, like a plant in the heat of the desert sun. The longer he looked, the more he could not look.

  “Stop!” Freddie’s voice called from behind. “Please!”

  The Drought ignored Freddie. “From dust he came,” his terrible voice boomed. “to dust he will become!”

  Andrew’s head teetered unsteadily on his shoulders. His eyes felt as dry as two shriveled grapes. Somewhere inside himself he felt a vague sense of the injustice of his situation. Hadn’t he done as Drust had told him? Hadn’t he stepped ahead, without any inclination of what he was to do? Where was the answer? Was it to end all like this? Was it his fate to turn into a pile of sand, and blow away with the wind? No, came the answer.

  Andrew closed his parched mouth, staring defiantly into the glassy eyes of The Drought. No. He told himself. If The Drought knew that he, Andrew, could destroy it, then there had do be something he could do---something, anything. But grasped in The Drought’s powerful hands, trapped by its powerful stare, too weakened to fight, it seemed like all he could was die---to dry up. Then he remembered something someone had said to him. He had a gift. He could see weaknesses for a reason. Perhaps this was the reason. Using those last coherent thoughts as his guide, he willed his mind to see this creature’s weakness just as he had seen the Brittlewambers’ weakness. He could not let The Drought win. He had to do something---anything. But it was no use. He could not look away from The Drought’s eyes. The longer he stared into its eyes, the more The Drought’s eyes began to burn and glow yellow, like two hot suns magnifying heat and giving off steam. Then in an instant, his own eyes burned green. He could see their green hue reflected in The Drought’s own eyes. The answer was staring right at him, far more apparent than he’d ever realized.