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

by Ivory Autumn

  Andrew ran down an open hallway, feeling the cool night air coming through the arched windows.

  The Fallen’s castle was cold. Frost and snow had gathered on the rim of the arched windows. Far off, Andrew could hear trumpets, alarmed voices and quick, clattering footsteps. He glanced behind him and shivered, drawing his dirty cape over his head. He slowed, walking with careful, calculated steps, trying not to look like he was in the hurry he was. He turned down an adjoining hallway, one that was closed off to the outside world. Here the floors sparkled and glimmered. The many glass lanterns and torches that lit up the hallway sparked and sputtered as he passed by them, reaching out with fiery hands as if trying to stop him. He moved away from their grasping fingers and stepped boldly ahead. He walked through the halls, peering around corridors and into rooms, seeing very little life. The palace seemed so uninhabited that it was inhabited. But not inhabited with normal life, like one might suspect. For normalcy can only thrive in light. Here there was light. But it wasn’t the kind of light like you could feel on your face from the warm sunshine. The kind of yellow, kiddy warmth that made spring come, and the world glow with youth, rebirth and happiness. No, it was a cold light. A light so grand it laughed at you. Its light was a greedy, selfish light that burned inward, giving no warmth to anyone. No star, moon or sun could give this feeling, for they all gave true light freely, without asking for anything in return.

  This light however was much different. Instead of giving you a feeling of happiness, there was a cold dread. Instead of rebirth, a corpselike feeling pervaded the air. Oh, the light was grand. But that was all it was. It reflected on itself, lighting up very little, yet it looked very busy at whatever it was doing. It was cold as death, and warm as hell. Which made for a very uncomfortable feeling.

  Andrew came to a large iron door that loomed over him like a tombstone, waiting for his name to be chiseled into its wood. He slowly opened it with the tip of his sword. The door creaked open with a lurching screech. He peered in and looked around the room. The room was lit with several torches, yet it was still dark as if the room was absorbing the light from the torches faster than they could burn. Somewhere within the room Andrew heard a hushed whisper, and low shuffling. Andrew quickly stepped away from the door as several shadows whipped through and swirled down the hallway, twirling around the torches, causing them to sputter and spark.

  Andrew moved away from the room, down a different hallway, walking as soundlessly as he could. Everything about the castle put Andrew on edge. Every room throbbed with the heartbeat of the master who built it. Darkness had been woven into every thread, every fabric, pressed between every brick, slathered on every tile. Each wall, each window, each curtain, pillow, echo, shadow; each squeak, sound, and crack was bathed in The Fallen’s consuming dark sheen. This place was a home to things that liked to lurk, peep, and creep.

  Even though Andrew could not see everything that lurked in the Shadelock’s walls, he could feel, hear, and sense the presence of many beings watching him. In the Shadelock’s walls there were many things that were attracted to darkness and light, as well. But this light did not create goodness. It created servants, awe-struck slaves, pawns to power, leaches, sponges, and worshippers of glitter.

  Andrew shivered, and shrunk away from a dark hallway where all the torches had gone out, and heavy smoke stilted the air. Andrew coughed, and leaned against the wall. The air in this castle was different. It was heavy, and thick like molasses. The darkness that lingered over this place was a hungry, devouring darkness. If Andrew lingered at any one place for too long, the darkness of the castle felt like it would consume him, seep into his mind, drift into his nose. It wore on him like a grinding stone. Andrew was sure that if he spent very long in such a place it would disfigure him just like those Withers. He was sure that if he let the darkness in, it would suffocate him and turn him wholly inside out, so as to never recognize himself again.

  He moved away from the smoke and walked through a large open hallway lined with thousands of torches that lit up the hallway so brilliantly that it caused the glittering black floor to seem like it was lit up in beautiful diamonds. The castle was indeed grand. But the grandness inspired only awe and fear. Nothing else.

  Behind Andrew, a loud clanking echoed through the hallway as a door opened and shut. Andrew heard heavy footfalls, and a deep-throated laugh that reverberated through the passageway, causing the congested row of torches to quiver.

  Andrew stopped, as the sounds grew louder. He quickly darted to an adjoining hallway that was barely lit. He pressed his back against the wall as the footfalls, and the deep voice of the speaker grew louder.

  Andrew’s heartbeat quickened. A terrible empty, vacant feeling flooded over him. His instincts told him to run, that whatever was treading up the hallway was his supreme opposite. Something so dark that it caused galaxies to be thrown off balance.

  The heavy footfalls continued. He heard voices that caused the torches in the preceding hallway to waver.

  “They will have the boy soon,” a soothing voice consoled.

  “Of course they will, you purposeless void!” a thick, dark voice boomed. “And when they do, I want him brought to me. Do you understand!”

  “Yes, my master,” the void replied. “I do.”

  “Good. Now, come. I have work for you to do.”

  As the speakers moved through the hallway, Andrew caught a glimpse of their glowing frames as they faded into the darkness. As the strangers passed by, each row of torches sputtered and went out, one by one, leaving Andrew in the cover of utter blackness.

  The hall had become so inky black that it reeked of death. Andrew could feel shadows creep close to him, snuggling up next to his body like cold, scaly fish. In this darkness he felt the presence of every dark evil thing imaginable creep out from hiding. He drew his sword, gaining comfort from its small light as he crept through the hallway after the dark strangers. Something brushed past his cape and caused a gust of cold air to stir through his hair. He gazed around him in alarm, but saw only blackness. The light from the sword penetrated the darkness around him, nothing more. It was as if the darkness was a living thing that had a body, a brain, a heartbeat, eyes, and thick skin that could not be easily infiltrated. He could barely even see his feet through the blackness.

  “Such a dark place,” he murmured, suddenly being yanked backwards as something tugged on the hem of his cape. He twirled around just in time to see a thin, shadowy hand slink back into the thick skin of darkness that surrounded him.

  Hollow laughs, distant moaning, and the pattering of unseen feet could be heard. His mind could feel the darkness and the shadows of the hallway tug at him in all directions, trying to seep into his heart.

  “Step out into the darkness,” Andrew breathed, picturing the faces of his friends, their bright smiles, their laughter. That thought alone helped him to shatter the thick darkness ahead of him so he could keep moving. He passed slowly through this veil of darkness, through another a maze of hallways. Here, the darkness was lifted considerably by rows and rows of lanterns and torches. Here, all the hallways were bright---except for one.

  This was the path Andrew knew he must follow. The unlit one. He paused before entering it. He looked from the brilliantly lit hallways, to the dark one. Next to these hallways, this dark forsaken corridor looked even darker. Andrew’s grip tightened on his sword. His heart beat faster. He could feel this the darkness of the hallway ooze out into the other brighter hallways, reaching for him, pulling him towards it.

  He slowly stepped into the inky hallway, and let it tug him along, walking the plank to sure destruction. From here he did not know what would follow. But he stepped bravely ahead.

  Flowers, trees, animals, people, all try to face the sun, Andrew thought. I must walk through dark hallways, valleys, mountains. Even when I gaze up into the sky I must look at the black spaces between the stars, and measure how much of it there is, and how much I am willing to give of myself in order
to keep those black spaces from getting bigger. I, Andrew, must hunt the darkness, as it hunts me. I must stalk it as it stalks me. Creep through it, as it creeps after me. Shun it, but don’t run from it. I can walk through the land of shadow because I am filled with light. I can face any darkness because in me lies the power to crack the powerful grip that it has upon the lost.

  Thus consoling himself, he took courage and continued on through a dark stairwell. The darkness oozing around him like black, wet feathers. He made his way up a great flight of steps until he reached another hallway that gradually got lighter and lighter as he went up the steps. Confused, he paused at the stop of the stairs and blinked, dazed by the brightness. Perhaps, he thought, he had taken a wrong turn.

  He was about to turn back when he spied a room down the hallway that did not glitter with an aura of light. Stepping very softly, he made his way to the room and peered in, preparing himself for…what? He could not guess. The room was very large, with tall walls and high ceilings. It was utterly empty and forsaken, except for a small window. Andrew walked over to the window, noting that the light from the moon outside dared not shine into the room at all.

  What kind of place is this? Andrew thought, that the moon and stars dare not to cast their light through it.

  “A very dark one,” a cutworm of a voice whispered.

  Andrew felt a cold hand clamp down on his shoulder. A tremor of chills coursed through him. He turned his head, seeing the form of an inky hand on his shoulder. Andrew pried the cold hand away from his body. He stepped back and raised his blade. But he saw nothing, only a dark, flat shadow slink stealthily against the walls, disappearing through a dark opening at the end of the room.

  Andrew slowly followed it through the opening, out into a brilliantly-lit corridor. Andrew stopped. He gazed around him, dazzled by so much light. In this part of the castle, the floors, ceilings and walls were a beautiful white, glassy color that reflected the torchlight, magnifying the light like a glimmering lake of mirrors. Here all shadows had vanished. Here, it was as if he had stepped from the darkest pit into the realm of heaven. The contrast was so great that even his fear was dazzled into submission. Light was everywhere. How could one be afraid in such a beautiful place?

  Drawn by the light, Andrew followed it to a closed door that bulged with the brilliance behind it. The light shining beneath it shot through the cracks, reaching out to him, pulling him towards it.

  He stood before this door staring at it with shimmering eyes. He was overcome with a great desire to open it, to see what lay behind it. His mind was hazy from the alluring light that beguiled his senses. The more light he saw, the more he wanted. This light made him greedy for more, made him hunger for all the brilliance.

  “Open the door,” a shining voice called to him.

  Andrew looked around him, unsure where the voice had come from. For in its subtlety, Andrew thought it could very well be the voice inside his own head.

  “Come,” the voice echoed, alluring, kind, irresistible. “Come inside, and be made whole by the light I give.”

  The voice was powerful. One that Andrew wanted to obey, wanted to please.

  Without hesitating, Andrew grabbed the glass door handle, and swung the door wide.

  An explosion of light washed over him, flooded in around him caressing him, at every turn, blinding him with its brilliance. The room appeared to light itself. Light emanated off its walls, seeped up from the floors, shone in every direction. Every inch of the walls were laden with candles, so that no part of the room was not lit. The floors were made of mirrors that reflected and triple-reflected all the light in the room, bouncing it off themselves, sending rays of light in every directions. Starflowers lined every shelf and every stray corner of the room, so that even the cracks of the room were lit up. It was so magnificently lit that it made the torchlight from the halls seem like a small spark compared to its brilliance.

  The room was as vast, as it was light. A giant fireplace, the size of seven normal fireplaces combined, stood in the center of the room, heaped with coal and lusty logs that crackled and roared as the fire consumed them. Fireflies flitted around the room, looking rather lost in such a brilliant place. Shelves filled with brilliant light-bearing relics: lanterns, glowing rocks, clear bright light-giving orbs---glowing eels and fishes that swam in clear, glass jars, lined the room top to bottom. There were unicorn horns, rare glowing mushrooms, collections of every type of glowing tree leaf, every stray moonbeam. Every object of light was held here, trapped, but nonetheless free to give light. It was a room as frightening as it was magnificent.

  The only spot in the room that looked vaguely dark was a large opening that led out to a terrace. A white, silvery cloth hung over the opening. It shone like it had been spun out of the very threads of golden light itself.

  Something on the terrace moved. It cast a lengthy shadow across the curtain, causing the light in the room to dim and flicker.

  Then HE entered. Andrew stood in the middle of the room, transfixed, unable to think or move. The Fallen stood before Andrew, tall, brilliant, huge. His face shone and glimmered as if he had swallowed thousands of stars and their light was now engrained into his skin, coursed through his blood, shone from his face, and sparkled in his eyes. His face was alluring, mysterious, and beautiful as if carved out of material that would never age nor dim. His hair though black, shimmered like silver.

  He held the long arched staff of Scorpio’s stinger. This weapon glowed a golden honey-hue, looking dangerous and yet subdued in the hands that now held it. Laced around The Fallen’s shoulder was the bow and arrow of Sagittarius. It blazed like fire, as if it had been fashioned from the dust of Saturn and Mercury. The arrows that protruded from a quiver on his back were no less magnificent. They were long and golden, their feathery ends made of jagged lighting bolts. Their tips glowed in the quiver like fire, held captive in a thin layer of ice.

  Andrew stood paralyzed in place as he gazed at the radiant figure that loomed before him. Andrew had tried to prepare himself for this moment. But he what he had thought would be, and what he now saw was very different.

  The Fallen was mesmerizing, magnificent. Someone bold, and powerful. Someone that made him feel very hungry, yet satisfied. He had the urge to both flee, and to stay at the same time. After traveling so long through dark hallways, this light called to him, begged him to worship it, to bend to its will, to obey it. It was after all, LIGHT. Such power demanded to be obeyed. Demanded worship. Demanded that Andrew stay.

  He felt drawn in towards this Fallen creature. Lured by light. He had witnessed so much darkness, this shimmering being seemed like a safe haven from all the darkness he had witnessed. He wanted to touch its shimmering cape. He wanted to know what this being knew. This thing of borrowed light dazzled him to the point of blind obedience. He stood there unable to remember why he had come, only that this bright being was watching him, and he wanted to please this creature. Wanted to lick up the crumbs of its brilliance if only to taste the brilliance for a short while.

  He wanted to be absorbed by it.

  Chapter Forty

  Replaced

  Gogindy rested his back against a cold step and closed his eyes. His nose twitched as something tickled his face.

  Gogindy cracked his eyelids. The tower was dimly lit, Something green and shiny, with two lacy wings, fluttered on his nose, and crept through his whiskers. He twitched his nose again, and readied himself to flick the thing that had disturbed his sleep.

  His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Oh,” he said, going cross eyed as he watched the beautiful bug creep through his whiskers. “It’s only you, my bug friend. It takes a special sort of creature to tickle a Twisker. And for that, I suppose I cannot eat you now. For in doing so, it would be like eating a fellow Twisker, with whiskers. And what a pity that would be, too. You were going to be my brunchfust. My meal. You see, I haven’t eaten for a very long time.”

  The bug moved from Gogindy’s nose and climbed
on his shoulder, rubbing its long antennas together and making a gentle chirrup as if it were talking to Gogindy.

  “You can talk too?” Gogindy patted it like it was some domesticated feline. “Ah, I’m glad you’re intelligent. Some bugs aren’t, you know. I’m glad you can talk. I was getting rather lonesome. I had my rock footprint to talk to, but he never talks back. He’s quite moody, you know. I think he’s had a bad past or something. But now I can talk to you. I hope my footprint doesn’t mind me talking to you and such. He doesn’t like to be replaced. But the truth is, I don’t think he will even miss me talking to him. You are ever so much more interesting and beautiful.”

  Gogindy yawned, and looked up the long flight of steps. “Well, Mr. Bug. I am still very tired. I’ve gone up so many steps that I can hardly even move. But I guess I should keep going. Stay there on my shoulder, and enjoy the ride. I am going to ring that bell as soon as I figure out where the top of this tower is.”

  He groaned and stretched out his sore muscles. Every part of his body ached and protested. His knees wobbled unsteadily, and his back groaned, and throbbed. “Oh this is jolly. Wonder how many hours it will before I reach the top. Or if there is a top. Maybe it fell off while I was sleeping. Maybe the top of the tower crumbled to bits and I’ll just walk off into nothingness.”

  He frowned, and slowly pulled himself up the steps. He moaned and shivered as the cold wind blew snow through the crumbly tower walls.

  Gogindy walked on and on, up and up, feeling more and more weary and disheartened. No one told him it would be like this. No one told him he’d have to climb to the very heavens in order to ring the bell. He could not tell how far he had gone or close he was to reaching the bell tower. The stairs seemed to go on and on, like a bad day. Every time he thought the stairs had ended, more appeared.

  “This is a mean trick!” Gogindy spat, staring at the continuing steps with gloomy eyes. “They never end.” He peered out a vast opening in the crumbling wall, and gazed out into the misty clouds, wiping a couple of matted whiskers out of his face.