The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (38 page)

“Oh, Andrew,” the horse moaned. “As long as
you are alive, you are still in the race. If there is one thing
I’ve learned in this life, it’s that every horse must finish his
race, even if he is the last one on the track and he has no hope of
winning. You keep going. Trust that fate has something in store for
you. Fate works like the webs of a spider. She first spins a thread
in the air that catches a random passerby. Each thread seems only
to be one long, silvery string that dances in the air, pulling you
towards something you don’t quite understand. Fate spins her web,
catching those it desires, pulling one this way, and another that,
entombing one, freeing others, while letting others wait. Fate does
no one thing without pulling on the strings of others, winding all
in its coils. One man she blesses with riches, while making another
poor. Another man’s item of torment may be another man’s treasured
idol. A man’s misfortune might mean another’s gain. The wind, a
blessing to a bird, may be a curse to those aground. The web she
weaves is as complex and as spontaneous as a laugh or a cry. She
embroiders our lives together, making no one thing alone out of our
actions, no matter how disconnected it seems from another being.
She brings the hero forth, and he is hailed, because others
wavered---thus the glory of the hero is made more perfect by those
quavering souls. In her, nothing is without significance, no
darkness without purpose. Though those she uses may be small,
unlearned, or dull, she moulds a character of one born into mean
circumstances. She fashions him for greatness in poverty, so that
when riches strike him, he is unwounded, unaffected, and
triumphant. She throws humanity together in the melting pot of
earth, using the heat of trouble and woe to melt away the dross, to
refine the gold and make up her jewels. She uses all ill to her
gain, every misfortune to some better end. She lets the sun go
down. She lets rulers rise, lets some fall. All this she does with
the web she weaves, leaving no soul unconnected from her web. Her
work is without flaw, though to some, it seems so. Time is always
on her side, and she uses it with precision, down to seconds. For
in time, she has learned that with it, she can wield a more
powerful punch. She delights in randomness, yet nothing she ever
does is random or without meaning. Those touched by her hand never
come to the same place as the same person again. Fate never rests,
nor ceases from her work. Sewing the patterns that make up our
lives, she lets one fall, so that others may rise. To her, the
fools have purpose, the darkness more depth, the light more shine,
the water more glitter, the senses of life heightened by her
breath. In death she delights in making others look at the
preciousness of life. In life she breaths a new dawn. She takes the
hand of those who she wills, and meshes them, fits, molds and
sharpens those into a plan with more dimension than the human mind
can comprehend. In her, worlds, fates, stories, histories,
kingdoms, good and evil all play a part. In her, life has more
meaning, and the heartbeat more ring. Heroes are made greater, and
triumph more meaning, and joy more full. Fate is what brought me to
you. What brought us all here together, here on this battlefield of
ice. And it is what has split us apart, and eventually takes us
back home---a home that our characters have fashioned for us. And
it is only at rare moments when the privileged few get to see small
glimpses of the amazing patterned, interconnected life that we call
our own. Fate, yes fate will take us all back home. And that is
where I am…going.”

The horse’s sides heaved with pain, “Goodbye
my friend…I would have given anything to carry you to victory, and
then take you back home. Oh, home sounds so nice. Doesn’t it?”

Andrew wiped his tears and nodded. “Yes, it
does.”

“Promise, me Andrew, that when all is over,
you will make sure the horse you ride home is decent. I don’t want
you sitting on just any ole pony. You need to find a horse who has
pride, humility and dignity, a horse who knows who and what kind of
person he carries on his back.”

“Oragino, no one can replace you.”

“As much as I like to think that…” the horse
murmured, “All horses are replaceable. Just like a shoe, we horses
wear out and grow old, and are quickly replaced.”

“No.” Andrew wept. “There has never been, or
ever will be a horse like you, Oragino, and you know that. Just as
a star shines in the sky, when its light goes out, nothing can fill
that void.”

“Just as old stars die,” the horses murmured,
breathing heavily and straining at every word. “New stars come to
fill that void…” Oragino’s voice faded. He lay down his head, and
breathed no more.

Andrew stared at Oragino’s motionless body. A
coldness gripped his heart. He wanted to scream out, wanted to
escape this sorrow that enveloped him. A biting chill blew. Clouds
covered the sun, and thick, fluffy snow began to fall over them,
like frozen tears falling over a world that had grown too cold and
harsh to mourn any other way.

Ivory knelt down and pulled Andrew’s shaking
form to hers in a tender hug. Her body was warm. It caused Andrew’s
frosted heart to melt. Tears flowed freely down his face, as he
wept like a child.

Apples

Andrew awoke where he, Ivory, and Freddie had fallen
into a bitter sleep next to Oragino’s frozen body. Andrew stretched
his legs and groaned. He was stiff and sore. His whole body ached,
and throbbed. The air was icy, and his breath hung in the air like
the spirit of a bodiless soul. How long he had been sleeping, he
could not tell. The sun was rising above the mountains, looking
dismal and subdued behind thick sheets of clouds. He shivered,
dusting a layer of snow off Oragino’s stiff body. His hand stopped
at the saddle. He quickly took the saddle bag and slung it around
his shoulders. “Goodbye my friend,” he whispered, stepping away
from the horse.

The wide expanse of black ice had been
covered in a blanket of snow, burying the bodies of the dead, in a
white mantle. The land looked hushed in quietude as if it knew that
many brave souls had just passed over to the other side. The scene
was eerie, haunting, powerful, provoking Andrew to deep
reflection.

Then, without uttering a word, he moved over
the ice, scouring the battlefield for survivors. Ivory, and Freddie
soon joined him in the search for life. But the task was long,
cold, horrible, and without success. There was no life to be found
anywhere, on land, or the ice. All that was left of the powerful,
army full of life, and hope, were soulless bodies, with white,
frozen eyes, and frosted faces, all empty of life. They could not
find Talic’s body, nor could they find Croffin. All were assumed
dead. Every horse, and every man. All had perished. All had died.
And for what? He was responsible for this. He alone. The weight of
those now lost were now upon his shoulders. Nothing stirred over
the entire battlefield of ice. All was now covered in snow, buried
together in their frosty grave. Andrew’s heart ached like a
soulless room, once filled with people, now empty and hollow. It
made Andrew want to curl up in the snow, and fall asleep
forever.

He groaned, and knelt before the body of a
fallen boy no older than himself. The face looked almost identical
to Talic’s. But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t bring himself to
uncover the rest of the body. No. It couldn’t be Talic. It WASN’T!
Unable to control his emotions, he pushed himself up, and began
walking towards the others, trying to shut out the empty void that
ate away at his troubled soul. But the pain would not be requited.
It would always haunt him. Would always follow him. The voices of
those who followed him seemed to swell and pulse in his head,
exploding against his skull, bidding him to do what they could not,
bidding him to stand before The Fallen, to not let their voices
dissolve with them.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut them out,
trying to ignore the pain. But it was there, throbbing, hammering
inside him. The battle was over, but the fight was not. His only
path before him was a bleak one. But it was the only path he could
take now. He would do what he had promised. He would do all that
was in his power to stand before The Fallen. He would seek him out,
and if he could not destroy him, he would, like his fallen army,
die making his voice heard. He had to finish his race. Not for him
but for them, for those who lay cold, and buried under the snow.
Since their voices had not carried, he would carry them farther. He
would find The Fallen, and face him, even if he had to do it
alone.

He trudged through the snow, feeling his
resolve building with every step. The memory of his friends who had
fought by his side, echoed vividly in his mind urging him
onward.

He suddenly paused, hearing a muffled
screech. He peered down beneath the snow, and gasped. There,
underneath his foot was Croffin’s skunk’s tail.

“Croffin?” Andrew cried. “Croffin!” He bent
down and yanked at the tail.

A loud, angry screech yowled out. “OUCH!
That’s my tail. Let go!”

Startled, Andrew let go, and fell back into
the snow, watching as Croffin’s head peered up through the snow,
his one eye glaring out at him.

“You’re live?” Andrew gasped, hardly able to
contain himself.

The coon pulled himself up and out of the
snow, scowling. “Dead? Do I look dead?”

“You did, for a moment.”

Croffin let out a loud yawn. “Well, so sorry
to disappoint you.”

“No. I’m glad you’re alive. I thought…”

“Well you thought wrong. My tail got caught
underneath a Sontars body, and it nearly took me all day to get
unstuck. I just got free when you happened to so rudely step upon
my tail. Luckily, my trusty book saved me, kept me warm, and
propped up enough space for me to get out.” He pointed to his dirty
skunk’s tail, then held up his book triumphantly. “And you thought
my reading and writing was a waste of time.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, confused.

Croffin grinned, as if genuinely pleased.
“Don’t look so confused, Andrew. It’s really me. And I’m alive,
that’s all that matters.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed. “It is!” Then turning
he called out to his friends. “FREDDIE, IVORY! Come and see what
I’ve found!”

Freddie and Ivory soon came, and crowed in
around Andrew, looking at Croffin in surprise. They had all
supposed him dead.

“Don’t look at me so!” Croffin huffed. “I’m
not a ghost. I’m very much alive. See.” He whirled around, and
stopped. “I look alive, do I not?”

“Yes, Croffin,” Freddie laughed. “You do!” He
patted the coon on the side of the head. “I never thought I’d say
this, but I’m very glad to see your sour face.”

“The same goes for myself.” Croffin smirked.
“I’m very glad to see your dirty face---all your dirty faces,
actually.”

Ivory laughed and pulled Croffin into a
hug.

“No,” Croffin gasped, “Don’t hug…me.”

Ivory slowly released Croffin. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like hugs. Never have. They
are much too suffocating. Brrr,” Croffin shivered, rubbing his paws
together. “It’s so c...cold.”

“Maybe Ivory should hug you again…” Freddie
ventured.

“Humph,” Croffin puffed. He scowled at the
snow so heatedly that Andrew was sure his dislike of it would cause
it to melt. “Times like these I should be hibernating.”

“In times like these,” Freddie mused, “we
could have been like those poor souls buried under the snow. But we
are awake. And I’m glad to be living.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Andrew said,
his face filling with sadness. “But I’ll be leaving soon. So I
guess it doesn’t matter.”

Croffin's eyes widened. “What are you talking
about? Leaving where? To summon more people, perhaps? Honestly,
Andrew after they hear about this massacre, I don’t think anybody
will consider joining forces with you.”

Andrew shook his head, and pointed to the
Fractured Mountains. “No. I know it’s too late for that. It is I
who must go now.” I’m going to find him. The Fallen. And I’m going
to do what I set out to do.”

Croffin’s face fell. “What? I think I heard
you wrong. Did you just say what I thought you said? Because if you
did, you’re crazy, absolutely insane.”

Andrew stared at the Fractured Mountains, his
eyes distant, and his face subdued. “I am going, Croffin. As for
the rest of you, you can stay here if you like. Talic could be The
Fallen’s prisoner for all we know. I am going to find him.”

“Talic is dead!” Croffin let out a miserable
howl. “I saw his frozen body.”

“No!” Andrew shouted. “He’s not dead!”

“Yes he is!" Croffin shouted back. “And if we
go we will be just as dead. So go. Be an idiot if you wish. Go trot
off and face your enemy with a sword that has no more power to kill
your opponent, than a needle does against a lion. But does any one
listen to me? No. Nobody has listened to my opinion since, well I
don’t know when.”

“Oh, we listen to you, Croffin,” Freddie
interjected. “We don’t have much a choice in that department,
anyway.”
Croffin paced back and forth in front of Andrew, scraping the ice
and snow with his claws. “Listening and hearing are two different
things. If you all had any sense you’d know that what I say is
true. To go where Andrew is pointing will just mean inevitable
death, and perhaps capture, or torture in the most horrible ways.
There is no good ending now.”

“I know,” Andrew said. “That’s why I’m going
by myself.”

Croffin cocked his head, and straightened his
eye patch, cleaning underneath the places where the fur had been
flattened. “That’s the first sane thing you’ve ever said,
Andrew.”

“Croffin!” Freddie retorted. “You may not be
going, but I’m going with him.”