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

by Ivory Autumn

  “The light!” the Withers howled. “It hurts. Oh, take it away. Take it away. Kill it. Oh.” They moaned pitifully. “The light, oh it hurts. Hurts.”

  Andrew gazed at the Withers’ pitiful figures in derision. All the Withers that fell under the light of the sword began to shrivel, and wither, like a plant plucked from the ground. Their skin sagged, and wrinkled. Their eyes dripped, and ran like a stream. Their ears sagged and fell down their necks. Their mouths began to fall down their faces, slanted and skewed. They howled and screamed and moaned, until one by one, they tiptoed away, shrinking into the darkness, like spiders, hiding their faces and eyes from light, like it was a deadly acid.

  Once their murmurs and the sound of their clicking feet faded, Andrew took a step outside the line of moonlight.

  The room felt odd. It was too quiet. Above him, one of the floorboards on the stairs creaked. A sound like rustling sheets stirred the dead air in the room. He glanced to his side, feeling someone’s hard eyes on him. There was a sudden clicking of feet, a groan, then the raspy sound of someone breathing.

  A smell like sulfur wafted in around him. The hair on Andrew’s neck stood on end. Without seeing what it, Andrew knew what it was. He swung around, pressing the creature against the wall, holding his sword to its throat. The light from the sword caused its skin to wrinkle like a raisin. Its eyes drooped down its face, big and fearful.

  “Stop!” the Wither howled. “Please! Stop!”

  “Name one good reason why I should,” Andrew growled.

  “Because,” the Wither panted. “Because. I have seen your other friends. I know where they are. I will lead you to them.”

  Andrew’s face softened. “You’ve seen them? Where?”

  “You must promise me that once I tell you, you will not harm me.”

  Andrew lowered his sword. “Now tell me. WHERE ARE THEY!”

  The Wither's eyes gleamed with a shallow darkness. “I will tell you where they are. They are dead. Dead! Dead because of you. Once The Fallen found that your friend wasn’t you, he killed him. Killed them all, even that raccoon that ratted on you. First they tortured them. Yes, tortured them in the most painful ways. Then they hung them, hung them, and the shadows picked their bones! And if you follow me, I will take you to your death as well!”

  “Silence!” Andrew shouted, pressing the Wither against the wall, and squeezing its withered throat. His hand shook, and his whole body trembled. Heat and tears came to his eyes. He could not see, could not feel anything but anger.

  “Let me go!” the Wither coughed and sputtered.

  Andrew’s eyes filled with fire. He raised his sword, ready to thrust the beast through.

  “No. No. No…!” the creature howled, recoiling under the sword’s light, holding its arms over its head. Its face and body had withered so much that the creature looked more like a puddle with arms trying to pull itself out of itself.

  Andrew suddenly stopped. He lowered his sword. The creature wasn’t worth killing. It was already incapacitated as it was. Andrew turned from the puddling figure.

  The Wither howled in disgust, then hobbled into the shadows.

  Andrew watched the Wither disappear into the darkness, a heaviness weighing down on him. “Yes…” he whispered. “Go! Go and hide yourself from the light. Go tell your Master that I am coming for him!”

  Andrew slowly made his way to the stairs. It creaked and moaned as he stepped onto it. He took another step. This step complained less. The third step made not a sound. He continued up, step by step, suddenly falling as one step groaned and heaved, giving way under his weight. Andrew cried out, and caught himself on the rickety railing, pulling himself to safety. Andrew was far more careful this time. He stepped lightly and continued onward, though the steps creaked and moaned as if they were conspiring against him. The stairs went on for a long time, winding around and around the walls in what seemed like a never-ending spiral. With each step, he felt a deep heaviness weigh him down, making him feel as though with each step he might be plunged down into the darkness. How could these steps support him when he felt he could not support himself? The Wither's cruel words hissed in his mind, echoing over and over again: “Your friends are dead. Tortured.”

  With each step, anger broiled and simmered inside his soul, fanned to a deep burning by all that he had seen, and would live to see. Tonight he would make the sparks fly. Even if his sword no longer held the power of those good souls who once lived to give it strength. If he was to die, he would die. But not until he had faced the being who had fought so hard to stop him.

  Once he reached the top of the stairs, he stepped through a large wooden door and found himself in a wide open corridor. Here, he instinctively knew that he had entered into the Shadelock itself. Andrew could feel the spirit that dwelt inside it, that coursed through its veins, giving it a type of life that was not life at all, but slow pulsing throb that was neither alive nor dead. It just was. Like a lingering soul, trapped between worlds.

  The walls were made of black crystal brick that glimmered like ice. On ether side of the halls, great lanterns and torches illuminated the castle, casting hosts of ghostly shadows. On one side of the hall, were tall, black, arched pillars, with large windows so that Andrew could see the entire realm of The Fallen spread out below, and the moonlit sky.

  Andrew stepped carefully into the hallway. The floors looked like polished black flint that shone, and absorbed the light, yet glowed as if polished with star dust, sparkling with silver flecks of light. It looked like if you stepped on them, you might fall into space, and perhaps linger among constellations and stars.

  “Get him!” a Wither screeched behind him. “He’s over there. Hurry, catch him before he escapes!”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The Warning

  Gogindy groaned and stretched out, smothering a loud yawn. His eyes were closed and he twitched, rolling over on the stone steps. “Beetles,” he breathed. “Oh, come, come to me. Oh yes. Yum. Oh let me catch you,” he moaned, and mumbled, in a sleepy voice. He reached into the nothingness. Confused, he yawned and rolled forward, instantly propelling himself down the stone steps.

  He yowled, and clawed, but his buoyant body continued downward. Thunk, thud, thomp!

  Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his three tails around himself and curled himself into a ball. He rolled down the steps like a ball of yarn, faster and faster until he tumbled down the stairway landing at the base of the stairs where he had started from.

  “Oh,” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his new bruises. “That was a rude awakening. I thought I was sore before, but this is much worse. Sleep is supposed to take the aches away, but this…” he pointed to the stairs, and then to his bruises, “this has doubled my woes.”

  Irritated beyond words, Gogindy straightened his ruffled whiskers and marched in a circle just to make sure nothing was broken. Finding no injuries beyond his bruises, he peered into his pack to make sure everything was in order. Everything was intact, except for the piece of scribbled-on paper he had found the previous night.

  “My paper…where is it?” Alarmed, he bounded back up the steps searching for the lost item.

  “Ah hah! I found you!” he exclaimed, picking up the crumpled paper lying innocently on one of the steps. “There you are!” He unfolded the paper and stared at the scribbly words, illuminated from gaping cracks in the walls. The words were written in jagged cursive which made the words look jumbled, and dangerous. He was worried that if he put his fingers on the ink perhaps they might jab his finger. “Oh but this is ugly writing,” he spat. “Such scribbly hasn’t been taught or learned in many, many years. It’s a wonder I can read this at all.” He scowled down at the words, reading them aloud, slowly sounding out the words. Be...ahware, de…ar s…oul---you who finds this paper---You, a b…ell ringer by fate, but a fool by profession, turn back, before you say your last confession. Did you really think that it would be this easy?

  “Easy,” Gogindy b
alked. “This is not easy reading. Pish posh. Easy reading, my eye. This scribbler aught to have some manners.” He smoothed out the paper, and began reading again.

  Think it would be this easy, to ring a bell that is so deadly.

  Gogindy stopped again and snorted. “Gumph.” He frowned, and smoothed out the paper reading it, growing angrier and angrier with each word he deciphered.

  Beware bell ringer. Your job is but to ring in false hope. A hope that will not last.For that is all you would do, ringing in something that isn’t really true. The time is already past to wake the good you thought the world had. Many others have tried, others have died. For IT guards the bell that is fast asleep. And IT is watching you. For The Fallen never leaves this tower unattended. IT will find you, and take the form of your obsession. IT will make you fall, and where you fall you will not get up. IT has never failed, nor will it, ever. Silence it craves, and silence it keeps. So turn back while it still sleeps.

  Beware. IT creeps. IT creeps. IT creeps.

  Hope is already dead, as you will soon be, if you do not heed this warning.

  Gogindy’s eyes grew wide. He gulped and glanced from side to side. A terrible fear crept around him, spinning a web like the crafty spider, pinning him in place. He slowly drew his pet rock from his pack and hugged it to him. “Oh dear, did you hear that my friend? IT is coming for me. Whatever IT is. And whatever IT is, creeps. I do so hate to be crept up upon.”

  Gogindy stared down at the paper, his eyes resting on the lines, Hope is already dead.

  “Can it be true?” he breathed. “Can it not be resuscitated? Isn’t there something I can do? If it’s dead then what am I doing here? But then again, it can’t be dead. No. It is sleeping. Yes, it’s not dead, it is only asleep. It just needs to be awakened. I have felt it. Yes, glints of it. And I am to wake it. And I will wake it. I will wake it for Andrew, for Ivory, for Talic, for Freddie, for everyone! Yes. I am the bell ringer. I am not afraid. Twiskers are not afraid. You hear that, IT! We are not afraid of IT! And WE are coming. WE’s are not afraid of ITS. And WE are very noisy. We like noise. Yes we do. YES I Do. I’s and WE’s are more powerful than an ITS any day!”

  His voice rang through the tower, resonating as though it was the loudest sound the tower had heard in several ages. Loose pebbles rained down the stairs as if the tower, too, had been sleeping and Gogindy’s loud voice had caused it to awaken.

  “Oh boy,” Gogindy breathed, listening to the power of his own voice as it echoed and then faded. His courage seemed to fade with the sound. He shivered as he stared at the steps before him. “What have I done? I should turn back. Yes, turn back before IT gets me. I will turn back.” He turned around, and started down the steps, glancing nervously behind him.

  “Wait…” he breathed, suddenly stopping. “I can’t go back. I made a promise to myself. And I can’t break a promise. Twiskers don’t break promises. EVER!”

  He slowly turned around and faced the flight of formidable stairs. Shadows, and light shone down the steps, mixing together, creating a feeling of mystery, and something else enticing, yet dangerous. The smell of snow and his own damp body that smelled of dandelions wafted around him, reminding him of home. A thought dawned on him. In a way, this tower was his home. His own stone dandelion.

  “What am I doing?” he murmured, treading carefully back up the steps, making sure that he was much quieter than before. “This is my house. MY HOUSE! When I get to the top I will be able to see everything. And we Twiskers like to see everything. We certainly do.” He stepped softly so as not to make a noise. He limited his self dialogue to only occasional murmurs and outbursts of dismay. “Boy these stairs go on forever, don’t they?”

  He held the piece of paper clasped in his hand. Every once in a while he would peer at the words written on it, then moan, and start upward again. The stairs wound around up and up, never ending, and never seeming to go anywhere. Small shafts of light could be seen peeking down from random holes in the walls that time and weather had worn through.

  Step by step, Gogindy made his way up, until the light ahead grew brighter and brighter from larger holes in the walls that had crumbled away, letting in drifts of snow blow in from the outside world.

  Gogindy stepped up to one of these gaping, crumbling holes in the wall and peered out. “It looks like I am in the clouds,” he breathed. He saw only mist and fog. He could not tell how far he had gone or how close he was to reaching the top. “Hoy, jolly fog. It seems that I am a Twisker that is neither up nor down. What a strange thing it is. I’m sure no Twisker has ever been up so high.” He sighed and stepped away from the opening. “Oh dear,” he murmured covering his mouth. “I hope I didn’t speak too loud. Why can’t I ever learn to be quiet. Or IT will find me. But IT should know that this is my house. And I can be as noisy as I like in MY house! You hear that, IT?”

  He smiled and puffed out his chest, listening to the brave sound in his own echo. His eyes lit up with pride. Now fully puffed up with his own self importance, he climbed up the steps, bounding over them at first, and then gradually going slower and slower as time went on. His back ached, his small knees screamed for him to stop. It felt as though he’d been traveling for hours. His stomach gurgled, bubbling like a pot of water aching for someone to throw noodles into it.

  “Poor thing,” Gogindy said, patting his belly tenderly. “Now, now. I know you’re hungry. But you must wait. When I get to the top, and ring that confounded bell, maybe you and I shall eat footprint rock soup. Now doesn’t that sound nice. For that is all I have left.”

  Gogindy stopped when he said those words, and glanced down at his trusty rock. “Oh dear. I didn’t mean that, really I didn’t. I would never eat you, my good friend. I promise.” Satisfied that his rock footprint was not offended, he slowly climbed the steps, pulling himself up with his hands, and then resting his head on the stone steps. His stomach burbled again, only much louder this time. “Will you quit complaining!” he shouted. “I’m the one who’s doing all the work, and all you can do is growl at me. A word of encouragement would be much better than continually rumbling and grumbling. If you don’t shut up you could wake the IT. Don’t you know that IT doesn’t like noise!”

  His eyes suddenly widened, and his face lit up with a brilliant grin. “Food,” he breathed, spying a long beetle that shone silvery-green blue, creeping over his foot. “So pretty, so shiny, so yummy looking,” he said, reaching to snatch it up. But the bug spread its wings and few away. “Stop! Bug. I want you,” Gogindy cried, running up the stairs after it. “Want to eat you. Want to crunch you. Want to pick your wings off, and eat your legs, and juice your insides.” He lunged for it, leaping into the air, but it was too quick and remained out of reach.

  “You naughty bug. Bad bug, I’ll get you yet, and when I do I’ll pull off your head and eat your antennas. Oh, doesn’t that sound fun?” The bug flitted farther and farther up the steps while Gogindy bounded after it.

  “Wait!” Gogindy panted, leaning against the wall, gasping for air. “Wait…bug I want you…”

  Without warning a loose brick fell away from the wall Gogindy was leaning on, and with it, part of the wall crumbled and fell. Gogindy quickly leapt back and watched as bricks fell tumbling away, revealing still another gaping opening in the decaying walls, like a strangely patterned doily. “Oh,” Gogindy moaned. “The higher up I go, the more hole there is than wall to this tower.”

  He glowered at the stairs where the bug had vanished, wishing he could have eaten it. “Stupid bug,” Gogindy growled, picking up a stray brick and tossing out the gaping hole in the wall. His ears tingled. He felt as if someone was standing behind him, making ready to shove him out the opening. He heard a low, creeping sound, soft and feathery. He swung around wielding his small sword. “I know you’re there, whatever you are. Come out and face your most formidable enemy!”

  A loose stone fell. He jumped and waited. Only silence greeted him.

  “IT, ” he cried, bounding
onto the next step. “Show yourself.” He waited for an answer, but there was only silence. Then, creeping out of a crack in the step above him, the gleaming, green beetle appeared.

  “Ah hah!” Gogindy exclaimed leaping after the beetle. He caught it and grasped it between his fingers. “I’ve caught you at last. You shiny weevil.” He peered into his palms and gazed at the green bug, fantasizing just how it would taste when he placed it between his teeth and crunched down. “You look very pretty,” Gogindy said, making his way up the steps, without any sense of where he was going except up. “Very scrum-chruptious.” He paused, holding it like it was a savory treat. “You caused me a lot of trouble. So I hope your flavor lasts a long time. For I am starving. I hope you taste as beautiful as you look.” Gogindy was about to crunch down on the bug, but he stopped. He looked at the empty, gaping walls of the tower, where huge sections of the walls had all but crumbled away, and only stairs and the inside part of the structure stood secure.

  “Oh my,” he murmured, gazing below him at the mist and clouds that hugged the tower, making him feel even more like he was living among the clouds. “Look here, bug. Just look at it. We’re clear up in the sky. My, my. We are up really high. So very high. It makes me feel sick. Makes my stomach churn. Oh, and feel that wind. Oh, better not stand too close to the edge. Now I’ve lost my appetite. Lucky for you. Guess I’ll have to save you for later.” He stroked the bug with his forefinger and then placed it in his small pack. “Yes, I’ll save you for later.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Shadelock

  Writings from Rhapsody’s Scrolls

  “When you see darkness coming, I suggest you look to the light.”