The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (14 page)

“What!” Drust thundered. “But how?”

Whab in turn, penned the words,
The soldiers that drove the boy off the cliff followed him
here. There was only a handful of them at the time, so they plan on
coming back tonight. They caught me and told me what they intend to
do. I escaped before they could do me more harm. But I’m afraid of
what they might do if they find the boy. They know about the words.
I’m so afraid Drust. The boy must leave. He must take the chest
now!

Drust stared into Whab’s unhappy face. “Are
you sure?”

Whab nodded so hard that it looked like his
big ears might wobble off his head.

“Then we have no other choice. Whab, gather
them enough water, and supplies to last a week. They must be well
fitted for their journey. I am glad I read the signs and bottled
enough water for such a time as this. “Andrew, you and your friends
must prepare to leave now. You have been found out already. We must
take no chances. You have a work to do that cannot be stopped!”

Andrew looked stricken. “What about Freddie?
He’s not yet healed.”

“No. But if he stays here, he won’t have a
chance to heal. Quickly, now. Grab your things.”

“Wake up!” Andrew cried, shaking Croffin.

“What?” Croffin drawled, bits of slobber
dribbling off his mouth. “Must I wake up? I was having the nicest
dream.”

“Yes,” Andrew answered. “You must. Soldiers
are coming; we don’t have much time.”

At those words Croffin became alert.
“Soldiers? I thought we had shaken them off our tails.”

“Hurry!” Drust cried. “Andrew, I fear you
must carry your friend. Whab’s sleep medicine won’t wear off until
morning. Whab and I will take you and the chest of unsaid words as
far as we can.”

Andrew stood over Freddie’s bedside, then
carefully hefted Freddie’s limp body over his shoulder. His knees
buckled under the weight. He grimaced, but did not complain.

“Are you ready?” Drust asked, lifting the
handle on one side of the chest, while Whab lifted the other.

Croffin and Andrew both nodded.

“Then come, follow behind us. Be as quiet as
you can.”

Andrew and Croffin slowly made their way out
of the cave, following Whab and Drust into the darkness.

Andrew stumbled ahead under Freddie’s weight,
trying to keep up. He could see very little of Whab and Drust, but
he could hear the faint sounds of the chest as it throbbed like
crickets in the darkness. He followed that sound, tripping over
rocks, heaving under Freddie’s weight.

Behind him he thought he heard the heavy
stomp of footfalls, and the clank of armor. The night was
stiflingly hot. The moon was out, fully exposed in the cloudless
sky. Its once brilliant light, now diluted in a haze of lies, and
shadows. Such a moon, Andrew had never seen. It was like a hard
eye, not cool as it should have been, but hot, angry, probing,
magnifying the heat the sun had left behind, drenching the drowsy
world in a stifling blanket of muggy air you could not escape
from.

“Come!” Drust’s muffled voice whispered from
behind a host of lumpy rocks that stuck out of the ground like
thousands of nameless headstones against the flat ground.
“Hurry.”

Andrew and Croffin followed Drust’s voice
until they found themselves behind one of the large rocks.

“Now that we are all here,” Drust whispered,
“I must go back and cover our tracks. I brought several bottles of
footprints. I will use them to lead those rogues off our trail.
Whab will take you a little further. And then you will be on your
own to carry the burden of the chest alone. It is a heavy load,
even for Whab and I. A load that I wish I could help carry further.
I’m sorry to leave you in this way. But it can’t be helped.” He
turned to go but stopped and turned back. “Andrew, I forgot to give
you this.” He smiled and handed Andrew a parchment. “It’s a crude
map to the ocean. I drew it from what I saw in The Drought’s
footprints. If you follow it, you will be sure to find him. Take
care of yourself. Watch your step. I may have read your footprints,
but it is you who will walk the path. Have faith, and don’t lose
hope. For hope will always revive you when you think all is
lost.

Before Andrew could reply, Drust vanished
into the darkness, spreading out his bottles of footprints over
their tracks, leading their pursuers in the opposite direction.

After that, they continued on their forward
journey into the night. Andrew couldn’t really tell where they were
heading, but the further they went, the less rocky and more sandy
and flat the ground became. With each step Freddie’s weight
intensified in Andrew’s arms. Andrew’s back ached. His knees begged
for him to set Freddie down. He had never carried a person this far
over this much terrain. Freddie was so limp and lifeless, it felt
as if he were lugging something dead, like a huge sack of rocks.
His feet ached. His mind felt groggy. All he could think of was to
put one foot in front of the other, to keep following Whab.

“One more step,” he told himself. “One more
step.”

Just as the sun rose over the horizon, a hint
of an almost cool breeze stirred through the land, causing Whab’s
ears to sway back and forth like sails on the ocean. Andrew smiled,
feeling the breeze flow over him, cooling his sweat like a
life-giving elixir.

Whab glanced behind him at Andrew and
Freddie, then set the heavy chest of unsaid words down. He
straightened his bowed back, and stretched his tired muscles. Sweat
gleamed on his face.

Andrew in turn, gently sat Freddie down
against the chest of unsaid words. His arms tingled, his legs felt
wobbly, and strangely light after lightening his load.

Whab stood before him, staring intensely into
his eyes, unable to say the words he wanted to speak. There was a
long silence in which kind thoughts were passed and no words
spoken, but all was understood. He grabbed Andrew’s hand and held
it tightly, then placed Andrew’s hand on the chest that was holding
all the words he wanted to say, but couldn’t. He looked up at the
sky, pointed to the chest, and then back up at the sky, waving his
hand like a bird.

It was as if he had said, “Free the unsaid
words, make them fly, give them wings!”

Andrew nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Whab’s eyes gleamed. He sighed as if Andrew
had understood him exactly, and that had given him great assurance.
Then he handed Andrew a sack loaded with food and water. He smiled
once more, nodded at Andrew, then turned and walked back the way he
had come. He stopped, turned back and waved, then continued
forward, leaving Andrew alone, forsaken and desolate.

Above, a lone bird soared, screeching as if
it disliked the look of the parched world below. As far as Andrew
could see, dead fields of dry, brittle grass stretched out over the
land, hugging a now-dry riverbed that snaked on for miles. All was
quiet except for the low throb coming from the chest of unsaid
words, and Croffin moaning that his feet hurt.

“What were those crazy fuddyduds expecting us
to do?” Croffin asked. “You can’t carry Freddie and the chest at
the same time.”

“We rest, if we can,” Andrew said, sitting
down, and leaning against the chest. He closed eyes, trying to
sleep in spite of the heat of the rising sun. It beat down on him
mercilessly as if angry with him for trying to rest. Croffin sat at
his feet, muttering incoherent curses at the sun, trying to share
in what little shade the chest offered them.

Freddie unexpectedly awakened. He groaned,
and reached out, calling for water.

Andrew sat up, and put a canteen to Freddie’s
parched lips.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake,” Andrew said,
“I was afraid you’d sleep forever.”

Freddie eagerly gulped the water, then nodded
in thanks.

“How are you feeling?” Andrew asked. “Whab
left me with some medicine. Do feel much pain?”

Freddie shook his head, and closed his eyes.
“No. It only hurts a little.”

“Are you sure? I can get you something if you
need…”

“Really, Andrew. I’ll be fine. You act as if
you haven’t seen me hurt before.”

“I haven’t, not like this.”

“Like this? You speak of me as if I’d nearly
died.”

“For a moment I thought you had.”

“Well, I’m not dead now. And I’d appreciate
it if you would treat me like normal.”

“Normal, what’s normal?”

“I don’t know, just normal, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, would you mind telling me where
in blazes we are? I can’t remember very much.”

“I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
Andrew said, as he stared above at the cloudless sky, thinking back
over all that had happened.

The Heavy Burden

The moon was out again, staring down on them with
its severe eye, watching their every move as if waiting for Andrew
to give in to the helplessness he felt inside himself.

Andrew sat near the edge of the dry riverbed
digging his shoulders against the chest of unsaid words, pushing
with all his strength. His face was pinched into a grimace as he
heaved and lifted, struggling against its weight. When Drust had
said that the chest was heavy, he hadn’t exaggerated. It was
heavier than anything Andrew had ever lifted. To push against it
was like trying to move a boulder.

“Andrew,” Freddie cried. “Let me help you
with that.”

Andrew looked back at Freddie and Croffin.
Freddie was walking in slow, halting steps. His face was pale, and
his eyes looked pained. Andrew knew that Freddie was still very
weak, and he would not accept help from him or anyone else.

“Please,” Freddie insisted. “Let me help you.
It’s only a shoulder wound. I can use my other hand.”

“No!” Andrew shook his head and heaved his
shoulder against the chest. “You must gather your strength. I was
the one who told Drust and Whab that I would take this chest, and
it is I, and I, alone who must move it.”

He heaved against the chest, trying to lift
it. He gritted his teeth, straining with every muscle. Sweat
dripped down his face and into his eyes. The chest dug against his
shoulder like a heavy boulder that did not wish to move. He heaved
once more, digging his feet into the sandy ground. He could hear
the trapped words inside the chest buzz like trapped flies in a
bottle as if they knew what was coming. This time the chest
shifted, and teetered on the edge of the dry riverbed. He fell on
his hands watching as the chest slid neatly down the sand and rocks
to the bottom of the dry riverbed.

Andrew lay where he was, trying to catch his
breath, feeling the sweat trickle down his back.

Freddie stood over him, and held out a hand.
“Need a hand up?”

Andrew ignored the gesture, and pushed
himself up. “I’m good. I was going to ask you if you were the one
who needed a hand down.”

Freddie shook his head, pushed past Andrew,
and marched down the sloping bank. “Nope. Not me. That arrow didn’t
do anything to my legs, Andrew. I’m able to walk just fine.”

“You should really listen to him,” Croffin
said, following behind Freddie. “With his help we will get to the
ocean a lot faster.”

Andrew slid down the bank, and grabbed the
iron handle on the chest and pulled. On first try it didn’t
budge.

“I’m telling you,” Croffin insisted. “You
should really let him help. At this rate, it’ll take us all night
to go a mile.”

“I told you I can do it,” Andrew set his jaw
and pulled the chest forward, dragging it slowly behind him on the
loose sand. “See, it’s not so bad.” He pulled, and puffed and
heaved, moving it very slowly.

Freddie and Croffin both looked at each
other, with knowing glances, then continued on.

With each step, Andrew pulled, straining
against its weight. Who would have thought words could be so
heavy?

“You’re doing fine,” Croffin called in front
of him, “Just keep it coming, and you’ll have made ten complete
steps.”

“Sure,” Andrew puffed, “You aren’t carrying
the weight of the last 100 years of unsaid words now are you.”

Croffin smirked. “Should I tell you what I
was about to say, or let that unsaid word just add to your
burden?”

“Very funny.” Andrew turned away from Croffin
and concentrated on the task at hand. The chest seemed to him a
symbol of all that had been looked up inside him---something
hidden, something powerful, strange, and unable to free itself,
something that was yearning to be free if only he carried it a
little farther. Andrew put his whole self into moving the chest.
With each step, the words inside the chest thumped and droned,
fluttering against the wood like fireflies, emitting their light
through the cracks and crannies of the chest.

Thump, thump, crackle, whisk, swish, hushed
whispers, subdued laugher.

Such unsaid words were much heavier when kept
hidden.

If Andrew had known how heavy the chest would
be, he would have thought twice before agreeing to take it with
him. Such a burden was almost impossible to traverse with. He took
slow steps, leaning away from the chest as he pulled it behind him,
feeling the muscles in his arms and back rip and tear against the
weight. Still he went on, putting one foot in front of the other,
pulling, heaving, breathing in strained gasps, stepping again, and
pulling. His mind cried out for him to stop, to leave the chest
there and forget all the words that would never be said. But he
could not. He had made a promise.

He dug his feet firmly into the ground and
pulled the chest along with him, ignoring what his mind said,
paying attention to only his body. He moved, pushed, heaved like a
machine. Only his body was his master now---a master that inflicted
pain on itself.

The hum inside the chest throbbed with each
step he took, in rhythm to his heart, bump, ba, ba, bump, bump, ba,
ba, ba bump, bump. With each drumbeat he thought he heard a muted
choir of unheard voices---desperate and chilling as they called out
to him, begging him to release their forbidden songs for all ears
to hear.