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

by Ivory Autumn

  “Morack?” Lancedon growled, anger lacing his voice. “I thought I could smell you. Nothing, not even this darkness can hide your horrible stench.”

  “I think I smell rather good. This darkness has done wonders for my complexion, don’t you think? Oh, I forgot. You can’t see, now can you?”

  Lancedon stiffened. “I can see you much better than you think, Morack.”

  “Still so hostile!” Morack gasped. “The time for hostility is over. We can now be friends, can we not? Darkness has unified us, finally. Why not embrace it and live? You know you want to.”

  “You know nothing about what I want!” Full of wrath, Lancedon pushed away from Coral’s staying hand, and took a blind step ahead, slashing the air with his sword.

  “My, my,” Morack laughed, driving his sword against Lancedon’s. “Fighting blind. Doesn’t seem very prudent.”

  “Aren’t we all blind in this darkness?”

  Morack laughed. “No. Just as you said a moment ago, I can see much better than you think. And in this darkness there’s no limit to what I can do. Living in the light was so inconvenient, so hindering. In the darkness one may do as one wishes. It is truly freeing. Freedom is a philosophy I think you can agree with.”

  “Freedom to do what?” Lancedon shot back, ducking as Morack swiped his sword at his head. “To subject everyone to your will?”

  “Yes! Now you are finally getting it,” Morack laughed. “Not so inconvenient as before. Excluding you and your kind, we were doing quite well. Everyone was behaving as they should. They had no other choice but to---you know---be slaves.”

  “Oh, such freedom,” Lancedon mocked. “Still trying to use your tongue to twist everything to fit your little agenda. You should know better than to do that with me, you shadow.”

  “Shadow?” Morack breathed. “I am so much more than a shadow.”

  “Yes,” Lancedon said, through clenched teeth. “You are a fallen man. And that is much worse. The shadows you cast feed off you as you feed off them.”

  “Yes,” Morack seethed. “As you will, soon.”

  “I’m finished playing your little word games!” Lancedon shouted. “Now, tell me, what have you done with my sister?”

  “Your sister? She’s dead.”

  “She lives!” Lancedon thundered. “You speak nothing but lies!” He clenched his jaw, and held his sword tightly. Anger burned inside him so strongly that he felt like he might burst into flame and consume everything in his path.

  Morack circled around Lancedon, sneering. “Does it really matter if I’m lying or not? When The Fallen is finished with you, all of you will be dead. Your sister is but one in a sea of darkness. Who cares for one soul, when a thousand others could be had? What is your life, or any lives, for that matter, in comparison to the magnitude of The Fallen and his never-ending all-consuming power?”

  Lancedon’s face gleamed with disdain. “The power of one soul, alight with truth and hope, is far more powerful than your endless sea of blackened armies. You underestimate the value of life, Morack. You always did.”

  “Life? I value life,” Morack retorted.

  “Yes, yours only.”

  Morack narrowed his eyes, and laughed. “Again, you have misunderstood me. I value life far more than you realize. You may accuse me of mingling with shadows, but my intentions have always been to preserve the human race.”

  “There is no human race in this darkness.”

  Morack put a finger up. “Ah, but that is the point. A new race of men will be born. A better, more powerful race will rise from these dark ashes, far greater than has ever been.”

  “Men like you?”

  “Yes! Exactly. Men like me.”

  Lancedon chuckled. “How inspiring. It seems as if we have much to look forward to.”

  “Yes,” Morack hissed. “More than you think. Now. Enough of this chit chat. Surrender, and The Fallen will be lenient towards your many men. He will let them live. At least for a while.”

  “Surrender?” Lancedon repeated. “In this darkness there is no such word.”

  Morack sighed. “I already knew you’d say that. But I had to ask, you know.”

  “How kind of you.”

  “Kind?” Morack balked. “You should know by now that I am not kind.”

  “No,” Lancedon said, listening to Morack’s footfalls as they hit against the slippery ice. “I should have called you a coward. For only a coward comes at a blind man behind the back with a sword.”

  “It is you who come against me.”

  “Yes. For once, you are right. I have. Finally!” Lancedon swung wide, and hit Morack’s sword in a flash of sparks. He lunged forward, slicing his sword through the air, just missing Morack’s leg by a fraction of an inch.

  “Ah!” Morack panted, coming back at Lancedon with great vengeance. “You come too close! I will end this now!”

  “No!” Lancedon shouted, catching Morack’s blade with such force that it caused Morack to stumble back, “I will.”

  “AGGG!” Morack growled. “It seems you fight much better when you cannot see your enemy. You never fought quite like this before.”

  “That’s because I never had so much to lose before.”

  “But you can’t see me…can you?”

  “Oh, I can see you,” Lancedon said. “I could always see you, even when you thought I couldn’t. I could see through your tainted lies. Your stench of darkness is stronger than a rotting carcass. A rotting soul is far more foul than that of a rotting body.”

  Morack’s eyes gleamed out through the darkness. He pushed his leathery lips into a hard line. “If you profess to see me so well, tell me where I will strike next. You forget Lancedon…fighting blind can be very dangerous. Someone…might get hurt.” He laughed, expelling a thick, black mist. A host of silver-laced shadows surged through the darkness. They spilled from his mouth, and seeped through the pores of his skin like living partials of sweat that grew, and intensified with each moment, shrouding Lancedon in fear and confusion.

  Morack’s dark offspring spread out from where he stood, extending like coiling snakes that crept around Coral’s feet. Before Coral knew what had happened, the darkness had grasped hold of her, winding itself around her mouth so she could not cry out.

  Morack coiled the darkness around his arm, yanking Coral to him, pulling her against his body, all the while watching Lancedon’s confused face.

  “Come, Lancedon, and fight!” Morack called, clearing the air of shadows so that Lancedon could properly hear him. “I have something you want!”

  “You have nothing I want!” Lancedon shouted, feeling the heavy mist Morack had breathed out, settling on his skin like thick ash. His skin tingled. He could feel the dark energy coming off Morack, mixed with the brighter power of good. But he was not fooled by it. Morack’s deceptions could not deceive him.” He raised his sword, hesitating for one moment. Something within him told him to hold back. But the anger inside him could not be stayed. “I will not be blinded by your lies any longer!” His voice was filled with wrath. He took a bold step forward, and plunged his blade into the darkness. He felt it strike something, soft, and human. He drew the sword back, waiting to hear Morack stumble back in pain. Yet there was no such sound. Morack did not move.

  “I warned you,” Morack’s voice cut through the air, dark and cruel. He let go of Coral, and laughed.

  The darkness holding Coral’s mouth slipped away. She gasped, and fell to her knees.

  Morack sniffed, and looked down at Coral’s crumpled body, his eyes unmerciful, and dark. “They do say that love is blind. And you, Lancedon, are the blindest of them all.”

  Lancedon’s face showed surprise, then confusion. “Coral?”

  “Lancedon!” Coral gasped from the ground.

  Lancedon’s face paled. “Coral?” His voice was filled with anguish. “Morack. What have you done?”

  “I have done nothing. It is you, my dear nephew, who have deceived yourself. It was you, and you
alone who so eagerly thrust your blade into the bosom of your beloved.” Morack laughed long and loud, filling the air with more shadows.

  Lancedon fell to his knees and groped over the ice until his fingers came into contact with Coral’s blood.

  “Coral, Coral,” he murmured fingering the blood, in horror. He groped further, until he found her hand and clasped it in his.

  She squeezed his hand tightly. “Hush,” she murmured. “I’m alright.”

  “Coral, say that I didn’t do this to you. Please. Oh…would that I had died before this day.”

  Morack loomed over them. “I may be able to help you with that problem.”

  Lancedon quickly pulled away from Coral and stood. He gripped his sword, feeling Coral’s blood as it dried on his fingers. Tears gleamed in his blind eyes. An overpowering burning swelled within his chest. It was a burning that caused his entire being to tremble and shake. He opened his mouth, but he was too overcome with emotion to speak.

  Morack glared at Lancedon then to Lancedon’s army of light, with unworried eyes. “Don’t look so horrified, my dear nephew. This was bound to happen sooner or later. You will all die, in one way or another. If by my hand, or yours, it does not matter. In your heart of hearts you know this. What hope has summoned will only help feed The Fallen. It seems that you have found yourself…on the wrong side, after all.” He nodded to the hordes of men behind him who stood watching Lancedon with eager eyes.

  Morack let out a loud cackle. “The dark age has begun. Do you now see that we have won? I have won. Where there is no sun, there will be no aging. No time. You fight for nothing. The hope you cling to is a false hope, a hope just as twisted as the light that now shines on us all. The boy who you were bound to protect, is dead! You have failed once again.”

  Lancedon glared at Morack, loathing every inch of the man with every cell in his body. “Everything you have ever told me was a lie as dark as the power you now serve. The boy lives!”

  “HE IS DEAD, YOU FOOL!” Morack thundered. “Just as you, and those like you will soon be!” Morack cut his sword through the air, slicing Lancedon’s cheek. Blood oozed from the wound and dripped down his face.

  “No!” Lancedon cried, bringing his sword against Morack, with such strength and power that it shattered Morack’s blade in half, sending him stumbling backwards to the ice. Morack cried out in fear, and stared up at Lancedon looming over him.

  “You are nothing but a sickening froth of shadows,” Lancedon spat. “A lover of secrets and deception. You, who prefer the company of shadows and Fallen lords, will go into that shadowland from whence you can never escape. Was not this your only desire? To dwell in the darkness and shadows?”

  “You misunderstood me,” Morack breathed, cowering before Lancedon. “All I have done was for the good of the people, because I knew this day would come. I knew that it was better to embrace the darkness, while it was still light, so that when the darkness came, we could still live.”

  Lancedon shook his head. “Power was all that you ever wanted. Power, under a mantel of darkness, so that your sins could not be seen. How does it feel to finally be standing at the brink, from where you can no longer return, to be going into the shadows? To a place where you have been traveling to all your life. To a place of darkness, where you can never escape. People usually get what they want, uncle, and you have finally attained your ultimate desire. I will send you there myself!

  “No. It is I who will send you where you deserve!” Morack roared, leaping to his feet. Instantly, shadows, dark thoughts, and doubts, given hideous bodies, rushed in around Lancedon, pulling him away form Morack. Screams, howls, cries, and snarls filled the air. Doubt loomed over him, a shifting mass of fears and ugly demons stacked on top of one other, with a thousand eyes, and a thousand hands, and a thousand faces. Even though Lancedon could not see this creature, he could feel it most acutely, like a knife trying to carve away his soul, his courage, and his hope.

  “You see,” Morack laughed, “you are only as strong as your weakest doubt, and you, Lancedon, despite the hope you cling to, have many doubts, this one included.” He patted the bulgy monster hovering over Lancedon. “Kill him,” he commanded. “Now!”

  “You forget,” Lancedon cried, struggling against his captors, “hope is stronger than any doubt, any fear. And truth is sharper than any sword!” He let out a loud shout and threw the mass of shadows and doubts back, knocking them against the ice in a loud crack.

  The ice groaned, and splintered where the mass of lies, doubts, and shadows had fallen, fracturing all the way up to where Morack stood.

  A surge of strength filled Lancedon’s heart. He lifted his sword, slammed it down into the ice at Morack’s feet.

  Crack!

  A gaping fracture of ice opened up beneath Morack’s feet. The ice heaved again as if tired of the heavy darkness that battled upon its surface. A look of surprise and disbelief filled Morack’s eyes. He cried out, trying to grab the edge of the ice as he fell, but the black water rose up to greet him and instantly pulled him down and swallowed him up. The thick slab of ice moved and shifted, lidding Morack beneath its surface like the walls of a crypt.

  Lancedon stood panting, listening as Morack’s screams were cut off, and the splashing of water ceased. The stench of Morack had vanished beneath the ice, forever.

  Lancedon stood over the spot Morack had disappeared, shocked. Morack was gone. Truly gone. Yet he felt nothing. He had thought that once Morack had ceased to exist, everything would be different. But nothing had changed at all. All around him his soldiers fought, and died. The heavy cover of darkness still pushed in around him, waiting for him to give in to its certain victory. He stood still through it all, as if his blindness made him somehow invisible. In an instant, Coral’s memory flooded over him. He jerked to life, and cut through a wall of soldiers, groping in the darkness for her. He climbed over heaps of bodies, searching, endlessly, tormented by grief. In his blindness he cried out in frustration, falling to his knees. “Oh Coral, where are you?”

  Then as if in answer to his plea, his hands closed around a hand that was not cold like the rest, but warm as sunshine.

  “Coral?” he wept. “Oh it is you!” He pulled Coral close to him, weeping bitterly. Her body was warm as the sun, and it caused him feel as if he would fall into a deep slumber that he wished he would never wake from.

  “I have been waiting for you,” she gasped. “And now that you have found me, you must leave me. This army needs someone to lead them. And that someone is you, Lancedon. Go. Fight, and live. Life is bright, as quick as a flash of lightning, here one moment, gone the next. Do you not hear the thunder? It calls me. You must let me go.”

  “No!” Lancedon cried. “I will not let you go!”

  “You must, Lancedon,” Coral said, whispering. “It isn’t dark anymore. I have finally found the light…” her voice broke off and her body went limp.

  “No!” Lancedon cried out in grief, cradling Coral’s body to his. The warmness of her body slowly faded and went cold. All around him the battle surged. Yet he could not leave her.

  The doubt and fear that he had only moments before fought off, loomed over him, far more powerful than before. In his heart he felt hope diminish, causing the light from his skin to flicker.

  In an instant, it seemed that real fear started to seep in through the ranks of Lancedon’s army, causing the light in their countenances to flicker and threaten to go out.

  The army of The Fallen seemed to gain strength from the wavering hope of Lancedon’s army. The Fallen’s men were closing in around them, seeping in through their brilliant ranks like black ink spilled on pure white paper.

  All around Lancedon, darkness began to press in, heavily.

  Hope was beginning to wane.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  The Passing of the Flame

  “Is it clear?” Freddie asked, peering out at Andrew through the darkness.

  “Yes,” Andrew answered, pausing be
fore a descending flight of stairs. He glanced behind him at Freddie who was carefully following, his luminous skin reflecting off the floors, telling all which master he served.

  The rooms and corridors in The Fallen’s castle echoed with a sharp emptiness that pricked the soul. The building felt vacated, down to the last shadow. It was a strange, eerie feeling.

  The throbbing roll of drums sounded in the distance, answered by the call of shrill horns. Deep down, Andrew knew where all the shadow dwellers had migrated. War, great and terrible was coming closer. A battle between two opposite forces was on the horizon of this never-ending night.

  “Do you hear that?” Freddie asked, turning his ears towards the sounds of battle.

  Andrew nodded, his face grim. His eyes, his skin, even his hair gleamed a warm, golden yellow. He looked somehow much older than he was, much more like a warrior carved out of light. “Yes. How could I not? Come, Freddie. We have much to do.”

  Andrew stepped purposely ahead, unafraid, and strengthened in step, by the power of the sword he held. They moved through the castle unhindered and unchecked. It was as if every dark soul had vacated the place, making ready to meet the oncoming army of light. The castle had a strangely cold, frosty feeling. The walls glistened with ice. As they walked, their breath glowed a vaporous yellow, as if eager to warm up the darkness.

  “This is our way out,” Andrew whispered, pausing before a round, double door. He pulled on it, and it flew open, clattering against the walls, blown by a cold wind. Heaps of black snow had accumulated on the edge of the door as if it, too, wanted shelter.

  “Brrr,” Freddie shivered, peering out at the dark world. “Someone will surely see us if we step out there into the open. I’m sure of it.”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes. They might. But what of it? I am not afraid anymore, are you?”

  Freddie chewed on his lower lip, shivering. “Uh, huh. I truly am, Andrew. More afraid than ever before. To step out there…I just…”