The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (33 page)

Andrew turned to his friend and stared at him
quizzically. Freddie sat on his horse with Croffin and Talic, both
of whom were sound asleep, snuggled up to Freddie, their tongues
hanging out, slobber seeping from their mouths. Andrew laughed. “I
can’t imagine you hearing anything but snoring, Freddie.”

Freddie held up his finger. “No. There it is
again. Do you not hear it?”

Andrew held his breath, and listened. At
first he heard only the roaring ocean as it pounded against the
shore. Then he heard the throb of drums, the pounding of feet
against the ground. His eyes grew wide. Fear shot through him like
an arrow, piercing him to his core. Far out on the eastern road he
could see numberless torches, row upon row of soldiers, the closer
they got, the more they seemed to unfold and expand, surrounding
them, trapping them from all sides against the back of the
ocean.

Cries of fear cut through his army, bringing
down the solid, and sure. Some ran, others cast themselves into the
ocean in hopes that their fate would be better than if they stood
before such a daunting army.

“Andrew,” one of his captains cried. “The
men, do you not see? Many flee away. Should we not go after them?
They should be punished!”

Andrew stared ahead, unblinking. “No. Let
them go. If they are not strong enough to stand, they were never a
part of this army, anyway. They came of their free will, and they
may go in the same manner. We did not come this far to become
dictators and executioners ourselves---to make others bend before
our will. No. All those who will stand, stand! If we are to be a
free people, we must choose it. There is no other way to obtain
it!”

“Ivory, Freddie, Talic,” Andrew called, “stay
behind me!” Andrew pushed his horse far in front of the men. Ivory,
Talic, and Freddie followed on their horses, quiet, subdued, and
respectful of Andrew’s wishes.

He turned to his men, and stared at them.
“Men,” Andrew cried, in a loud voice, bringing his horse to the
front, “Any of you who wish to turn back now. Do so!”

A great many wavering souls, once strong, now
bowed with fear, began to brake away from the army, quietly
disappearing into the night, while others ran to the oncoming army,
readily surrendering to the powerful forces before them.

Andrew watched the departing souls with heavy
heart, but with firmness of resolve. He pointed to the oncoming
army. “Their numbers are great. Yet, you are greater. Your cause is
greater, your bravery, your hearts. You know what true strength is.
You know that truth is far grater than a lie!”

“Truth, truth, truth!” A resounding echoed
thundered through the army, so strong and chilling, that Goosebumps
appeared on Andrew’s skin.

“For truth!” Andrew cried. “Shout it,
proclaim it with all the force that is in you, for we will make
such a noise, that even the deaf can hear our cries. For
freedom!”

The men gathered behind Andrew, their voices
hushing as they watched the oncoming army, and those wavering souls
who had succumbed to fear, and had forsaken them. They greeted the
oncoming army, after laying down their weapons, joining their
enemies.

All hushed to a dead calm, except for the
roar of the ocean. Even the oncoming army’s drums ceased and all
grew heavy with silence.

Flicker soared above the ocean, veering in
low towards Andrew. “Look towards the ocean! We are surrounded.
They come on all sides!”

Andrew glanced behind him at the ocean,
listening to the sound of a low, chilling cry as it throbbed over
the waves. It was faint at first, but then grew, louder, and
louder. As the sound grew in volume, the roar from the ocean became
more hushed, and its thunderous crashings lessoned. A vibrating,
low-throated sound of a horn echoed over the waves. The weary sound
was as chilling as metal grating against metal, penetrating the
very depths of the ocean, chilling it with its message of utter
darkness. The sound frosted over the water, freezing it in almost
an instant. Great cracks and poppings were heard as the ice came
together and stood still as glass.

The sound of the throbbing ocean was
instantaneously cut off, as if smothered in a scream. The vacant
sound was ghostly and lingering, like a thrashing soul who had been
suffocated to death without warning. Andrew stood transfixed by the
phenomenon. Hardly a soldier blinked. In the distance, on the very
surface of the frozen ice, were hundreds of shimmering blue flames,
carried by concourses of men, coming towards them. Their blue
torches were reflected on the dark ice, their outlines as
numberless as those who stood poised at their front, ready to
devour them.

They were surrounded on all sides, both front
and back. There was no escaping. No way out, but to fight.

His men cried out in fear. But Andrew held up
a hand to calm the men. His own heart was afraid. “We indeed are
out-numbered. Surrounded on all sides, but it has always been thus.
I have said this before. And I say it again. Any of you who wish to
turn back now. Do so!”

No one moved.

Andrew nodded, his face solemn, and filled
with passion. Here standing before him were the solid trees, the
souls with deep roots and unwavering hearts. His ten-thousand had
diminished into what looked about seven thousand. But that did not
matter to him. These were the brightest and the best. Souls that
were priceless, who would not bend. He held up his sword. His eyes
blazed, his was face fierce and filled with a light that came from
within. The army, his army was much more than just an army. They
were the last bearers of light, souls in whom no lie could beguile,
no deception blind---souls in whom no earthly power could cause
them to conform. Emotions of every kind swirled in Andrew’s
pounding heart. In his hand he held a sword that held the power of
these souls in its blade, only made sharp by their undulled
spirits.

Andrew had half of his army face outward,
while the other half faced the ocean. Andrew turned his horse
towards the frozen water, and then stopped and looked back at his
army. His captains stood in front, ready to give the signal.
Everyone looked frightened, but more than that, they looked
courageous. Horses neighed nervously, men drew their swords, bows
were drawn, and all grew very quiet.

Far out over the ice, and all around them a
great howl, jagged and as cold as snow and biting as frost, pushed
its way through their ranks. The Fallen’s army awoke with the sound
in a deafening cry. Wolves howled, creatures of the night
screeched, and moaned. It was as if the very jaws of hell had been
opened and all that was dark and ugly was now pouring over the ice
towards them, as well as coming from behind.

In return, Andrew’s men exploded in a
thunderous roar, so loud that it caused the ice to pop and
crack.

“For truth!” Andrew pointed his sword and
pushed his horse across the frozen sea, towards the hosts of demons
charging at them, while Flicker led the charge from behind, and his
army of seven thousand split in half.

Freddie, Talic, Croffin and Ivory followed
behind Andrew, clipping over the ice fast and furiously. As
Andrew’s men pushed across the ice, the frozen water groaned and
cracked.

Andrew’s horse pranced ahead like a specter,
sending up bits of broken ice. Galloping across such a battlefield,
Andrew’s mind whirled with many thoughts, voices from his past, all
mixing into one voice. Truth. He felt like an unseasoned ship
captain steering its helm into a black wave. Something in Andrew
wanted his men to turn around, to run and hide, to save themselves.
But they didn’t. They would not.

On they went, before and behind, over the
frozen sea, into the sea of men as shadowy as the lies they
believed. The dark army stood in an unbending line, like the edge
of a rigid knife, ready to cut them into pieces. Shadows, Sontars,
men and beast, thousands upon thousands. They marched together like
masses of bats swimming across the ice blackening the already
darkened night. Vargas and the Shade stood in the midst of this
immeasurable army. Each soldier wore helmets with carvings of The
Shades Trees engraved into their metal. The jagged metal trees
protruded from each helmet’s peak, like dozens of uneven horns. The
bottom of the helmet dripped over the wearers face like roots, as a
slotted protective covering.

A drone of the horns sounded. The voices of
Andrew’s army blended into a chaotic clash of metal, noise, and
cracking ice.

Every evil that had ever existed now stood
before Andrew’s army, every nightmare, every dark deed, every
shadow, of both man, Sontar, and beast. They stood mixed together
like a lurking cloud, these living breathing deceptions, these
gray, and ugly, barbed, double-dealing frauds. Hideous, lies and
doubts with bodies, clothed in garments, shimmering and dripping
with dark and venomous poisons, of all makes, shapes, breeds, forms
and colors, had come together, from the four corners of the world
to this last place, to utterly abolish and consume any hope of
freedom, peace, equality, truth and voice Andrew had managed to
stir up.

On the field of sand, and of ice, in front,
and behind, both truth and a lie battled. Andrew rode bravely
ahead. With inhuman strength he cut down the enemy, sword fueled by
the strength of the men he represented.

A small group of men formed a circle around,
Andrew, Ivory, Freddie, Talic, and Croffin. Yet, the circle was
dwindling.

Cries of pain, and anger rang out. The ice
shifted and heaved under such weight.

Andrew’s men fought with double the strength
of The Fallen’s men, cutting their way through the endless
onslaught of embodied lies and shadows that pulled at their backs
trying to strangle them. The clatter of ice shattering with bone,
lies shattering before truth, and truth shattering before a lie,
caused beams of light and darkness mixed with blood to cover the
ice.

Something whizzed through the air, and missed
Andrew’s head. Andrew swung his horse around and faced a huge man
wearing a cloak of black wolf skin. His shadowy skin hugged his
face like tar. His eyes gleamed with a hungry light. He came at
Andrew and his horse like a wild man, swinging a mallet on a chain
in one hand and a sword in the other.

Swish, swish, swish.

Clack!

Andrew lifted his sword, and caught the
mallet in a spray of orange sparks, causing the ball and chain to
wrap around it with a loud metallic snap.

Andrew pulled back, yanking the weapon from
the man’s, hands. His sword gave off a vivid warm flash of light,
causing the man to stagger back into the sea of soldiers,
momentarily blinded. He moved in towards the man, but stopped and
glanced back, hearing Ivory scream.

He whirled his horse around and charged
ahead. A Sontar had grabbed Ivory’s leg, trying to yank her off her
horse.

“No!” Talic raged, from behind Ivory in the
saddle, wildly snapping and frothing at the mouth, trying to reach
out and bite the Sontar with his clacking teeth.

Andrew barreled down on the Sontar and sliced
its arm off. The beast fell back, its dismembered hand still
clinging to Ivory’s leg.

Ivory kicked the arm away, letting out a
disgusted yelp.

“Get behind me, Ivory.” Andrew thundered,
slashing his sword through the masses of soldiers. “Quickly.”

Ivory obediently fell in behind Andrew.
Drawing her bow, she let an arrow hit the heart of a gray being
that blocked Andrew’s path. Thud.

The man fell dead.

All around was madness, blood, and death.

Andrew had lost sight of Flicker and Freddie.
They were somewhere absorbed in the mass of bodies, all struggling
for something.

Andrew pushed through the masses, searching
for his friends, while trying to keep Ivory and Talic safe.

“Freddie!” he called, swinging his blade in
front of him like a madman, knocking three men down with one blow.
He stood at the front of his army, his sword glowing like a
magnificent shaft of light, causing those who stood against him to
fall back, subdued before its might. The sword felt like fire in
Andrew’s hands, like pulsing, flaming fire. Though it was heavy in
his hands, the blazing strength from those 7,000 hearts that worked
inside the blade, made his arm strong, made his body feel as though
he were more alive than he had ever been in all his life.

He swung the blade at his foes, knocking five
men down with a single blow, making it possible for his troops to
move in around him though they were but a drop in the bucket
compared to The Fallen’s countless demons.

Andrew cried out in anger, pushing through a
mass of shadows, spotting Freddie’s face. He rode alone on his
horse, out-numbered and surrounded on every side. Andrew moved his
way over to him, bringing down a man who was pounding on Freddie’s
sword, like he was trying to fell a tree.

“Thanks!” Freddie shouted above the noise. He
offered Andrew a weak smile, then wiped sweat that was trickling
down his forehead.

“Get behind me!” Andrew ordered. “And stay
alive!”

Anger and heat broiled inside of Andrew, The
Fallen’s army was closing in around them. Behind him, those who
battled on the shore were faltering. All would soon be lost if he
did not do something.

“For Freedom!” He shouted, rallying his men.
Andrew moved on ahead of his friends, like a flash flood washing
down a mountain, destroying all that stood in his path. All around
him, The Fallen’s men swarmed, consuming his army like a plague,
devouring all in its path. Still, his men stood, fighting back the
tide that was trying to drown them. Andrew's thoughts were
rhythmic, focused, driven. He was aware of what was happening, very
keenly aware, yet his focus was as concentrated as the he power
inside his sword. He swung his sword, feeling ageless, timeless,
like a rock that had existed and would always exist. He did not
fear death. His only aim was to protect those whom he loved, those
who fought beside him---those who would not be made to bend before
The Fallen’s will.