The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (3 page)

The Shade’s voice grew quiet. Yet even in a
whisper his voice was piercing. “That’s because I don’t have to.
Now listen Morack, and pay attention this time. What matters now is
that you find Lancedon before he makes any more trouble---that you
get rid of him before he causes the people to forget which side
they are on.”

“He’s not the threat he used to be,” Morack
reminded The Shade. “He’s blind. Blind! No one could possibly
listen to a blind man.”

“That’s what you think. As long as he has his
voice, he is dangerous!”

“Really,” Morack argued, “there’s no need to
worry. Even if I turned a hundred such men loose, no harm could be
done. I’m sure of it. I have trained my people well. Before long he
will be weeded out.”

The Shade stood above Morack’s trembling
figure, stern and unyielding. “I have heard your promises before,
Morack. And they mean very little to me. Find your nephew, or I
will make sure that you will really be afraid of your own
shadow.”

“You wouldn’t turn my own shadow against
me.”

“I would.”

“Please. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Then, find your nephew, and get rid of
him!”

“I will. I give you my word.”

The corners of the Shade’s mouth turned up
slightly, and he nodded. “Your word?”

“Yes.”

“Your word means nothing. Remember…it is your
action that will show me.”

Morack nodded. “Yes. Yes. I’ll remember.”

The Shade’s eyes filled with a murky light.
“Oh yes. I almost forgot. The Fallen sends his regards. He also
hopes that you will prove your loyalty to him once and for
all.”

Morack flicked bits of broken mirror off his
shoulders. “Prove my loyalty? So, now my loyalty is in question?
Unbelievable. I have done everything he has ever asked. What more
proof does he need? Me to cut off my own arm?”

The Shade smiled and twirled a stray shadow
that was lingering in the air in front of him, creating a floating
whirlpool. “You haven’t done everything….”

“What do you mean?”

“You forgot to do something very important
that was asked of you some time ago.”

Morack furrowed his brows, and slammed his
fists into the wall. “What did I forget to do now?”

“Release something…”

“Release what?”

“You were supposed to release The
Drought.”

“Release The Drought? I don’t ever remember
being asked to release The Drought. To do that would simultaneously
release The Famine. And Danspire doesn’t have enough food to
survive a thing like that.”

“Well, you were asked once, and you did not
do it. Now I’m not asking, I’m telling you. Release The
Drought!”

“I cannot! My people will starve.”

“You can and you will. You are a resourceful
man. The Fallen has sent me with orders that you must go to the
four corners of the earth to gather enough food and water for your
city and the cities 'round about, so that when The Drought has been
summoned, The Fallen and his carefully-selected kings will have
food and water to supply the world with.”

Morack’s face clouded over in anger. “Why
would I want to feed and water the world?”

The Shade leaned over Morack, towering above
him like the trees he fostered. “Don’t you see? By doing this, you
will bring the people of every city, of every nation, and every
tongue, to their knees. Every unyielding soul, and every unwilling
heart, will be made to bend to The Fallen’s will.”

Morack still looked unconvinced. “How will
releasing The Drought do all this?”

The Shade’s voice filled with a cruel,
shadowy tone. “Few can resist hunger, and even fewer can resist
thirst. If pressed hard enough, the unbending souls will have no
choice but to give up their weapons in exchanged for food and
water. By receiving such a boon, they will have made their choice.
We will have won a war overnight, without a single blade being
raised. Weapons, and the making of them, will be outlawed. They
will have given away their heritage for food. And willingly. It is
the perfect plan. One that will not fail. Food for weapons, life
for their means to protect it. The plan is fail proof.”

Morack nodded, his face filling with
understanding. “Ah, I see. How clever, how very clever. However,
there is something I do not understand. Why would you be interested
in releasing something that might damage your trees?”

The Shade stepped back, his face filling with
a smoldering fire. “There is nothing left to damage. My trees have
been destroyed. The boy’s strength was underestimated.”

It was Morack’s turn to look amused.
“Destroyed? Unbelievable! You had him at your fingertips---in your
power! I don’t understand, I thought you had him under
control?”

“I did!” The Shade’s voice echoed through the
room with such intensity that the shattered pieces of glass on the
floor cracked, and shattered into even smaller pieces. “I had him
under MY control. But I could not contain him. Now that the grip of
my trees has been broken, and their roots withered, we must do
something drastic to maintain control, and keep hold of the
darkness that binds them. The Drought is the only thing that will
do this.”

“I’m finally beginning to understand,” Morack
narrowed his eyes and smiled. “So, naturally I have to come and
save YOU from the mess you created. It seems you and I have more in
common than I thought. We both are failures---to some degree.”

The Shade’s voice filled with venom. “The
only thing we have in common is that you are a mere shadow, and I
am the maker. You live only because I help cast you. I have always
been a SHADE, Keeper of Shadows, and I will always be. You are a
keeper of human maggots, because you flatter them with lies. I
create works of art from my own beautiful darkness. You, on the
other hand, are a diluted glass of pig swill, that attracts
flies.”

Morack’s face contracted in rage. “I am
not!”

The Shade narrowed his eyes. “Then prove
it.”

“How?”

“Do as I have asked. Begin storing food and
water. In a month’s time, release The Drought.”

Morack held his aching head in his hands. “A
month? There’s no possible way I can get all that done in a
month!”

“One month!” The Shade repeated. “If you
fail, I will make sure that your own shadow stalks you in the dark,
torments your waking hours, and darkens every path you tread.
Believe me, if you do not do this, I will haunt your dreams and
choke you with your own shadow.”

Morack’s face looked vacant, and pale. He
swayed back and leaned against the wall. “A month? How is that
humanly possible?”

“Don’t be a fool!” The Shade thundered. “For
a human it might not be. But for The Fallen, it IS possible. The
Fallen will aid you in this venture. There are many who have
already started securing the necessary stores.”

Morack nodded, his eyes filling with
understanding. “Ah, I see. Very well then. I will do my best.”

“Good!” The Shade whispered in Morack’s ear.
“I’ll be sure to tell The Fallen of your continued loyalty.”

“Yes. You do that.”

The Shade glared at Morack with sinister
eyes, then turned to leave. “Remember, Morack, that a Shade never
casts threats that he won’t fill.”

“Ha,” Morack retorted. “And a tyrant, such as
myself, is never threatened by a mere Shadow.”

The Shade glanced back at Morack, and smiled.
“That’s hard to believe, coming from a man who spends half his time
with his own reflections, and the other half trying to conceal who
he really is. Take care to cast your own devious shadows in the
dark, Morack, or the people might not like what they see.”

“Same to you,” Morack muttered, watching as
The Shade breathed in a long breath, sucking in the masses of
shadows he had created. The shadows screamed, and cried out as The
Shade inhaled them through his mouth and his nostrils in one long
gulp. A moment of silence fell over the room as the last shadow
vanished.

The Shade’s gaze fell on Morack. “Remember,”
he hissed, “Remember!” With those sinister words, he slipped away
through a dark corridor as noiselessly as he had appeared.

Relieved to have his space back, Morack
turned to his shattered reflection in the only remaining piece of
mirror on the wall. He raised his brows, inspecting his bruised
neck, and the blood oozing from a cut in the side of his head. He
squinted, inspecting his nose. Then he smoothed back his disheveled
hair. The fractured reflection made him look much more sinister
than he already did. For some reason it bothered him.

“Gather supplies. Release The Drought, eh?
Kill Lancedon again? Morack, you handsome devil. Looks like you
have your work cut out for you. Release The Drought. Hmm...”

Just saying the word, “Drought,” made Morack
thirsty, made his lips feel dry. Once The Drought had been
summoned, once it was called, it could never be recalled, unless
someone with the right kind of power broke it. The Drought would
come and do its work quickly and as quietly as the sun rises and
sets. The thought of releasing a monster with such power over his
lands made him cringe. As much as he liked the thought of more
people coming to him for their needs, he disliked the brown that
would surely replace his green fields. But there was no other
choice. He sighed, gave his reflection one last glance, and exited
the room. After all, he had food to collect, water to store,
weapons to confiscate.

The Drought was waiting.

The Blind To See

A field of yellow roses that smelled of
allspice stretched out before Lancedon like a field of golden fire.
The field gave off a wonderful wave of tranquility that soothed him
to his core.

“Lancedon,” a voice whispered. “You are my
son, placed in a dark world. Please be the light when all others go
out.”

The warm feeling suddenly vanished and he
awoke with a start only to be greeted by the dark world of
blindness.

Memories of the terrible heat, the
overwhelming smoke, the sounds of the fire roaring, and the people,
his people, watching his execution with morbid delight, waiting for
him to die, flooded over him. Confusion and fear gripped him. Where
was he?

He groped around in the darkness, grasping at
bits of dirt and straw. His hand came in contact with the edge of
something that was rough and splintery. He pushed himself up,
steadying himself on what felt like a wooden wall. His feet, arms,
and face felt raw and sore. They throbbed, and ached. He groaned,
and stumbled to the ground.

“Shh…” a soft, feminine voice murmured.
“Don’t trouble yourself so.”

Lancedon looked up, trying to determine where
the sound had come from. “Where am I?”

“You are safe,” the woman replied placing a
warm hand on his arm.

Lancedon pulled away from her. “Who are you,
and what do you want?”

The woman ran her hand gently over Lancedon’s
cheek and forehead, causing his skin to tingle from its heat. “Has
it been so long that you have forgotten my touch?”

Lancedon’s face grew alert, recognition
dawning on him. He grabbed the woman’s hand. “Coral?”

“Yes.”

Lancedon pressed the woman’s hand to his
parched lips. “Oh, that I could see your face!”

“Oh my dear Lancedon, I have missed you,” She
moved closer, and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her
lips to his. Her kiss enveloped him with the warmth of summer. It
caressed his heart and cast a spell of peace over his troubled
mind.

He pulled back from her embrace. He ran his
fingers along her face, tracing her smiling lips, her big eyes, and
her long, warm hair. “Where are we?” he wondered.

Coral’s voice filled with mystery. “We are in
a barn. You, Sterling, and myself. All safe.”

“Sterling is alright?”

“Yes. My brother is fine. He’s sleeping for
now. He woke before you, and is resting again. When you are well,
we will leave this place. I have your horses and food prepared for
our journey. ”

“I don’t understand. How? How did you get us
here? All I can remember is fire and smoke.”

Coral stroked Lancedon’s hair and murmured in
a soft, pleasant voice. “You called for help and I came. The
diamond flower does not summon without due cause.”

“Then it
was
growing, after all…”
Lancedon said, remembering the strange plant growing in his prison
cell.

Lancedon fingered Coral’s hair, pressing it
to his lips. “But how did you save us from the fire? I do remember
hearing thunder, and people crying out. But everything else is
hazy.”

Coral kissed his cheek, and stared at him
with smiling eyes. “Rain.”

Lancedon leaned in closer to Coral,
mesmerized by the warmth her skin radiated, feeling drawn to her
like a moth captivated by a glowing orb. He placed her hand on his
cheek, and flinched. Her hand was so hot that it caused the already
burned skin on his face to throb.

She pulled away from him. “Sorry, I think I’m
burning your burns.”

“No,” Lancedon exclaimed. “Besides, I would
rather be burned by you more than anyone else.”

“Not if you could see your blistered hands,
and poor red, smoke-stained face.” Coral pressed a cool rag with a
soothing paste, onto his hands and cheeks.

Lancedon closed his eyes and sighed. “Ah,
that feels nice.”

Coral continued wrapping his feet and arms
with the healing salve.

“Coral?” Lancedon said. “Do you care so much
that I am blind?”

“Yes. It makes me very sad.”

Lancedon released her arm, and leaned his
back against the wall. His heart was heavy. He wondered what a
wonderful woman like Coral was doing helping a blind, helpless man
like him.

“Lancedon,” Coral said. Her voice sounded
hurt. “Don’t you know that love is blind? I wouldn’t care for you
less if you were missing an arm. I love you. And you don’t have to
see my face to know that.”