Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Rise of the Fallen)

by Ivory Autumn

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rain

  Andrew opened his eyes with a start, gasping, as the pain-filled memories of the night before washed over him. He squinted because of the brightness of the room, feeling lightheaded and strange. He could smell the scent of herbs, mixed with the smell of apple pie drifting through an open door. He smiled, enjoying the warm sunlight that shone through the large rounded window at the far end of the room. Ivy leaves had crept in at the open window. They were draped around the room, as if the room itself was a garden. Freddie, Ivory, Gogindy, and Talic were sitting in chairs that lined the walls. They were leaning on each other, sleeping peacefully.

  Andrew tried to move, but even the slightest movement was agony. His whole body felt different, like it was no longer his own, but someone else's. He felt like a stranger, living in a body that was locked in an ice casing. Something within him had changed. Something had shifted. And he didn't know what. Something was missing. He was sure of it.

  He couldn't put a finger what it was. He grimaced in pain, his fingers crossing his bandaged chest.

  He wiggled his fingers, his toes, and blinked his eyes, careful to make sure that he had not lost any of his appendages. But all were safely intact.

  Nothing physical seemed to be missing. But there was something missing---something vital, something important, and the ache of its absence caused all his bones and muscles to ache. He felt like a pillow that had all its stuffing beat out of it. The emptiness seemed to echo inside of him. It vibrated off his broken ribs and cut through his joints, and skin, like someone was poking around in his body with a sharp nail. He shivered, feeling the coldness from the night before linger over his body, like a ghost, not wanting to leave the body it possessed. He opened his mouth to say something, but his breath was shallow and the words caught in his throat. The effort tired him out more than he thought it should have, and the slight movement of his jaw caused waves of pain to flow through his body.

  Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at his friends, trying to take his mind off his body that his soul was chained to.

  Gogindy was curled up in a ball. His long jagged ears fell over Talic's eyes like big leaves, shading him from the sun. Gogindy's numerous whiskers, twitched as he slept. The Twisker muttered some indefinable word as he shifted in his seat so that his whiskers conveniently brushed against the side of Talic’s nose, face, and neck.

  “I'd like a piece of that cheese to take to my anthill,” Gogindy murmured. “Grumhumbergg! No. Move your island a little to the left. It's getting in the way of my dandelion.” He twitched his whiskers even more, causing Talic let out a loud sneeze.

  “Gosh!” Talic cried, sitting up and shoving Gogindy off his seat. “Move YOUR island. It’s getting in the way of my sleep!”

  “Gggrrr!” Gogindy sputtered, his hair standing on end. “What did I do?”

  “You put a little too much cheese in your anthill that's what!”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re such a feather head,” Talic huffed, his voice growing loud. “You ought to be locked for attacking people with your whiskers.”

  “My whiskers attacked you? What Twiskery rubbish!” Gogindy rose up on his hind legs and sneered. “I’ll show you what a real whisker attack really is!”

  “Be quiet!” Drogen thundered, stepping into the room with Monday, closely following behind him. "Or you might wake him."

  "Oh, but he is awake! Three weeks, and now he's finally awake!" Gogindy cried, leaping with joy. "See!"

  All eyes turned to Andrew.

  Drogen's eyes grew wide. He stepped up to Andrew, peering down at him like he was a rabbit in a dark hole. “How do you feel, lad?” he asked, analyzing Andrew's gaunt figure. Andrew had dark purple circles under his eyes, and his whole figure looked thin and fragile. Andrew looked confused. He had thought it had been just a day ago since he had fallen prey to the Barnacles. Andrew opened his mouth in attempt to answer, but Drogen hushed him. “No, never mind, don't speak. Just lie still and old Drogen here will tend to your every need.”

  His friends gathered around his bed and watched as Drogen placed a spoonful of broth to Andrew's lips. Andrew sipped very slowly. After a couple of spoonfuls, he closed his eyes, and concentrated on not crying out in pain as the liquid hit his stomach like lumps of ice. Andrew's lips were so cold the broth would start to ice over before he had a chance to swallow it.

  “Come on,” Drogen said. “You've got to finish this broth.” He held another spoonful up to Andrew's lips, but Andrew shook his head, and closed his eyes.

  Drogen then pulled Andrew's blankets down, to redress the bandages. The skin around the wounds were icy, swollen, and purple.

  Andrew grimaced in pain. "Will it ever heal?"

  "Yes, it is possible," Drogen promised, quietly redressing the wounds. "You're lucky you ended up in this special city, a city of half men, and half elves. Curleelews we call ourselves. Some of us even possess gifts, same as elves. This place is a city full of miracles, and beauty. In better, safer times, the sick and wounded would travel from all around the world to this place to find healing of all manner of ills."

  "Healing?" Andrew wondered.

  "Yes," Drogen said. "You see the rain, Andrew, is what they come for. You must endure your pain long enough for the rain to cure you. It is a healing rain, that will wash away the ache you now feel...well at least, most of it.

  Andrew looked at Drogen as if he didn't believe him. "When will it rain next?"

  "Who knows? Tonight, tomorrow, next week?"

  There was a pattering on the roof, and a low rumble of thunder as if in answer to Drogen's words.

  Drogen's eyes grew big. "Or, right now!" He ran to the window and stuck his head out and laughed. "Oh yes, it is raining!"

  Drogen turned to Andrew, with his long, gray beard slung over his shoulder, and his gray hair dripping wet.

  "Hurry, Freddie, Ivory, Talic open the door. Monday, you help me carry Andrew. Gogindy you carry the pillow. All of you, hurry quickly. We cannot let this pass. The rain has come, the rain has come!"

  Before Andrew could protest, Monday scooped Andrew up into his arms and followed Drogen and the others outside into the rain, onto a grassy field where the colors were vivid, warm and beautiful as the rain was. Steam and mist rose from the ground, adding to the dream-like beauty of it all.

  Monday held Andrew up to the rain, and let the water fall freely over him. Then he gently set him down on a green hammock, between two trees, while Drogen helped Andrew take off his shirt, so that his wounds were open to the pouring rain.

  The rain felt like nothing Andrew had ever experienced before. The instant the rain fell onto his weak body, it felt like the captive pain and emptiness inside of him gradually melted like hot butter, into the ground. It felt as if a window had opened up inside of him that let in new air, and pushed all the stuffy, stale air out.

  As the rain fell into his eyes, he blinked back tears of gratitude. The water was warm, so very warm. He hoped that this shower of warmth would never end, would never go away. What kind of rain was this? He wanted to laugh, he wanted to dance, he wanted to shout. Every sorrow, every bad memory was washed away in an instant, and he could only think of things that made him smile. The rain sounded like spoons delicately tapping against china. He feared to move, lest he break the spell the rain cast over him. It was a kind of rain Andrew had never seen or felt before. Instead of clear water, each drop was a different, transparent color. The rain fell over his cold wounds causing steam to rise from his chest. Gradually, the cold numbness melted away, causing warmth to flood through him. He cried out first in pain, and then in relief, letting the healing rain thaw him to his core.

  Without even realizing what he was doing, Andrew slowly stood, feeling strength and life come back into his once empty body. He let his feet sink into the moist grass, steadying himself as the rain continued to fall over him, continued to heal and warm him. He laughed, looking
at all his friends feeling whole, and renewed under the blessed rain that fell. Everyone of his friends looked surprised and happy as he was at the rejuvenation that now washed over them all. Andrew turned in surprise seeing Drogen leap for joy. He called out to Andrew, and began to sing: “Boreen’s rain is the best for all ills. It will take away the cold, when you’ve got the chills. If you’re too hot, it’ll make you feel cool. If you’re craving chocolate, the rain will taste like that to you.

  If you’ve got a scratch, it’ll itch your back.

  If you've got a canker, or a hangnail or your just plum tuckered out, it'll ease your backache and you will forget what you were worried about.

  Boreen’s rain’s got a soothing power,

  if you're feeling grouchy---it’ll wash away the bad glower.

  If you’ve got a hurt, it’ll sooth the wound.

  Boreen’s rains reflect the rainbow’s light, and if you’re feeling lonely, it will make you feel all right.

  Boreen's got a pot o’ gold hidden deep, where the rainbow never grows cold, and if you‘re not young, you’ll stop feeling old.”

  Andrew watched in disbelief as Drogen leapt and jumped and like a child, and his old voice steadily became younger. He danced around in the rain, youthful, and full of vigor. His gray hair, turned brown. The wrinkles in his skin smoothed out, and he looked so different, Andrew hardly recognized him. Drogen began to skip and run as if he was a small child, jumping into the puddles and splashing.

  Andrew held his hands out, welcoming the rain, looking up to heaven in thanks. Only moments ago he had felt despair, and loss. He had thought he could never heal. In the storm he had found healing. In the rain he found renewal, revival---life.

  But now, a hope filled him. A hope that washed away all the fear, all the pain, all the doubt. Through the rain and mist, Andrew thought he saw the woman, Coral who had brought him back to life with the bolt of lightning she had called from the sky. She stood by a shallow pond, stroking a harp, singing softly through the rain, as if she herself was responsible for the storm. She paused and stared back, not at him, but Monday.

  Her warm music wove through the falling rain, immersing its listeners in visions of pleasant summers, of sunrises, of life, of warmth, of trust, and everything good, and loving on the earth. Monday stared back at her, mesmerized by her music, and her beauty. He closed his eyes, listening to the music so intently that Andrew thought Monday might lose his balance and tumble down the hill into Coral's arms. Monday was so captivated by her, and her music, Andrew thought he saw him flinch, as if a memory, long forgotten, had resurfaced, and something had struck him to his core. Then Monday smiled, as if the dawning of spring caressed his ears, and his mind was filled with the birth of new hopes, and dreams.

  Just as abruptly as the rain started, it stopped without warning.

  And so did Coral's music.

  The rain's stopping was just as startling as its starting had been. A hush fell over the city of Boreen, like a sigh of sadness at a farewell of someone beloved.

  Drogen stopped jumping and his beard that had turned brown, went a little grayer, but not entirely gray as before.

  Andrew was taken off guard as the cold and pain slowly returned to his body, but not with quite the same intensity. He was still healed. He still had strength in his bones, and life to his breath. The pain he now felt was a strange vacant pain, hollow, invisible, not a necessarily a body pain, but one more of the soul, where he felt as if something was still missing.

  “Don't worry, my friend,” Drogen consoled, noting the look of pain on Andrew's face. "Whatever it is you're still missing, you'll find. If not today, tomorrow. Just like this rain, it'll come when you least expect it."