The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (40 page)

Without knowing why, fear pricked Andrew’s
chest. His throat tightened. The long-ago wound from the Barnacle
began to throb and ice over. He gasped, and fell back in the snow.
Breathing hard, he peered once more over the rock.

The dark figure moved with ease through the
grove of dead trees as smooth as an eddy of water, flitting from
tree to tree, wheezing like an old hound.

Andrew stood petrified in place. Could it be?
Was this the phantom that so often haunted his dreams? Hadn’t he
just secretly wished for something like this to happen? Hadn’t he
wanted this? He knew what it was even without fully knowing. Ivory
had been right. How had she been right? The Barnacle had come back
for him. How had it found him? Had it had come back to finish what
it had started?

Andrew turned to wake the others. Then he
stopped himself. Wait…

A dark thought crossed his mind. A bad
thought that tempted him, urged him to it. How pleasant it looked.
How easy. He could put an end to all his pain. He didn’t have to go
on anymore. He could step out into the open, and in just a few
painful minutes everything would be over.

He glanced behind him at his friends. Guilt
flooded over him. He closed his eyes, his mind and body filling
with resolve. “No!” he told himself. He cast his momentary thought
of darkness away. No! They had not given up, and neither would he.
He owed those who had fought so valiantly by his side at least that
much. He owed it to himself. To Ivory, to all who believed in a
cause. Nothing could make him throw everything away so easily, so
rashly, so thoughtlessly. Not even the guilt and pain he felt. No.
He could not forsake all that he had fought for. He had a mission
to complete.

He opened his eyes, and cast the Barnacle one
last look before turning back. But that last look was all the
creature needed.

“There you are!” It let out a chilling
scream. “Andrew!!!!! Andrew!!” It howled so loudly that it caused
the dead trees surrounding it to tremble and shake. “Awake!” it
howled, walking past the trees, its spidery cape, caressing the
trees trunks. At the being’s command, the trees became alive, their
cold branches snapping and cracking.

“Behold,” the Barnacle howled, “the power
leached through my fangs! Your power Andrew!”

A dagger of icy pain jabbed at Andrew’s chest
where the Barnacle’s scars had been etched into his skin. The pain
was acute and sharp. So sharp that his breath was knocked from him,
he nearly fell from the rock he was standing on.

“Freddie! Ivory, Croffin!” Andrew gasped,
turning and stumbling through the snow towards his friends. “It’s
come! It’s come for me!”

“What’s come for you?” Croffin growled,
sitting up and rubbing his one eye.

“The Barnacle!”

Ivory and Freddie instantly awoke, their eyes
big with fear.

“Run!” Andrew cried, helping Ivory to stand.
“They can harm us both. And it’s my fault. Run! Run, all of
you.”

Andrew’s mind spun with fear. He glanced
behind him, hearing the crack of the trees clicking together. The
Barnacle screamed out gusts of ice and snow as it crashed
ahead.

“Go!” he told Ivory and the others.
“Run!”

“What about you?” Ivory cried.

“Just go!” Andrew commanded, drawing his
sword and holding it high. “I will be alright. I promise. Now go!
Freddie, take her with you. Now!”

Freddie quickly obeyed Andrew’s command.
Ignoring Ivory’s cries of protest he dragged Ivory back.

Andrew stood transfixed in place. His only
thought was for those whom he cared for. He would not let what
happened to him happen to Ivory.

“Trunklings,” the Barnacle howled. “Come! I
have a work for you to do. “After the boy, the boy!”

Every single one of the dead trees lining the
road through the Fractured Mountains came alive, their dead wood
creaking and crunching. The trees, like hideous gargoyles, epitaphs
of previous wars, reached for him. Their eyes glowed red within
their bark like coals ready to break into flame.

Andrew finally awoke from his stupor, and
stumbled down over the rocks back towards the frozen sea, trying to
lead the terrible creatures away from his friends. But the trees
were as fast as they were large. They clambered over the rocks,
reaching out at him like spiders, their dry branches constantly
cracking and breaking.

“My twiglings, my dry forest of rotting
logs,” the Barnacle cried above the deafening sound of cracking
branches. “Get him. Crush him!”

Without warning, Andrew was grabbed by a
twisted tree with burnt fingers and two branches extending upwards
from its trunk like horns on a demon. Below him, Freddie was
standing at the base of the tree, whacking the tree’s trunk using
his sword like an ax.

Andrew groaned, and struggled against the
tree’s grasp. Why had his friends come back for him? Didn’t they
know it was useless to fight against such an unstoppable foe?

“Pest!” the tree roared, flicking Freddie
away, knocking him violently against the ground.

“Crush him,” the barnacle commanded, standing
beneath the tree, his voice covering the trees in a frosty dew.

“No!” Ivory screamed, standing behind the
barnacle. She looked bravely into the eyes of the demon. “Stay away
from him!”

The Barnacle laughed, and took a step towards
Ivory. “Young elfling, you are very brave. But very stupid. Don’t
you know what I can do to you, how I can make you suffer?”

“Get away from her!” Andrew cried, wriggling
through the tree’s unlimber, lumbery fingers. He reached out and
grabbed the tree’s lengthy nose and hung there, dangling from it.
His hands grew hot against the wood. The tree’s nose smoldered and
broke, throwing him onto the ground at the feet of the deadly
Barnacle.

Andrew groaned and looked up. The Barnacle’s
cold gaze paralyzed him instantly. “Get behind me, Ivory!” Andrew
ordered. “Now!”

Ivory looked from Andrew to the Barnacle.
“No, Andrew, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

“And I won’t let you die for me!” Andrew
yelled, pulling Ivory behind him. “Too many have already died
because of me!”

The Barnacle loomed before him, sneering.
Under its icy gaze Andrew could feel his old wound icing over, like
frost freezing water. The cold pricked his veins and ebbed its way
into his neck, making him stiff and sore. He held his sword in
front of him and Ivory. In this dark hour it felt cold, and utterly
useless. The power of those 7,000 soldiers was no longer held
within its blade.

“Ivory,” Andrew commanded, “run!”

“No!” Ivory shouted. “You can’t make me!”

“Ah,” the Barnacle howled. “Run, stay, it
does not matter. You will both die. One before the other, that is
all.”

“You will not touch her!” Andrew cried,
standing in front of Ivory protectively. “You’ll have to kill me
first.”

“I know,” the Barnacle breathed. “And I will.
Today you will finally die, like you should have that night in the
forest of Boreen. Your life will finally be mine. I have been
following you ever since you brought down The Shade’s trees. Your
smell was intoxicating. I was nearly upon you a dozen times. Yet,
the ice and cold covered up your scent. But tonight I smelled you,
very strongly. Yes, like a strong perfume, the scent of your gifts
filled my nostrils. And all for what? Apples. Were they really
worth it, Andrew, these apples? It seems you have plucked the
forbidden fruit, so to speak.”

Andrew stood undaunted, though he felt as if
his very sinews were being slowly turned to ice even before the
Barnacle had laid a finger on him. “Stay back. I warn you!”

The Barnacle stared at Andrew, cocking its
head like a hungry cat ready to pounce. It laughed and held its
hands high. Its dark cape flapped in the wind like a broken fishing
net. The trees had stopped their shifting. Now they stood watching
the barnacle with red eyes, like demonic hosts awaiting the
sacrifice of holy blood.

The Barnacle lashed out its cape, catching
Andrew by the leg.

Down Andrew went with a loud thump.

The Barnacle laughed and howled as it dragged
Andrew to its outstretched claws.

Ivory screamed. She clutched onto Andrew’s
body, trying to pull him back.

“Get away!” The Barnacle snapped, tossing
Ivory away from him. “I will get to you soon enough!”

It growled, and leaned over Andrew’s heaving
form, listening to Andrew’s quickening heartbeat with delicious
pleasure. Andrew squirmed, tearing madly at the Barnacle’s arms
ripping the thin cloth covering its blobby arms.

“You will not survive a second time,” the
Barnacle howled, showing off a pair of new fangs glistening like
pointed javelins in dark slime. The Barnacle ripped open Andrew’s
shirt and ran his cold knobby fingers over the place he’d bitten
Andrew before. His touch sent Andrew into a spasm of pain. “Does it
hurt?” the creature crooned, “This wound I gave you? Does it wake
you in the night? Does it send icy shivers down your spine? Does it
ever let you really rest? No…because deep inside, you knew I was
coming back. Coming back to finish what I started, to send you
where you have longed to go. No. Don’t struggle. I know you wish
for it. This death. Calm yourself. You have summoned me to you,
perhaps without fully knowing why. But you brought me to you. And
now your pain will soon be over. Your struggles are at an end. You
will be free, Andrew. Isn’t that what you wanted, anyway. Freedom?
Well I am here. And I will give it to you at last!” It hissed and
laughed, breathing frosty breath into Andrew’s ear. “Freedom!”

The Barnacle opened its gaping mouth. Wafts
of steam rose from its terrible throat.

Andrew cried out, unable to move. His mind
filled with confusion. His heart thundered against his chest. He
breathed in and out, gasping for air, the pain beginning before it
even started. He couldn’t do this. He could not die, not yet. He
stared at the Barnacle’s dripping fangs. No, he thought. He could
not let this happen a second time. He would not die like this!

The Barnacle breathed in with a loud sucking
sound, and then breathed an icy sleet over Andrew’s chest, like it
was dipping its meal in some savory sauce. It leaned in, smelling
Andrew, and hissed in delight. It shivered and then reopened its
mouth, ready to sink its fangs into Andrew’s chest.

Just as it moved to snap its jaws shut,
Freddie smacked the creature in the side of the chest with a long
log.

“Run, Andrew!” Freddie cried, standing
between the Barnacle and Andrew. “RUN!”

“You can’t protect your friend from me!” the
Barnacle howled, flinging Freddie aside. “No one can.”

Without waiting to see where Freddie had
fallen, Andrew turned and ran, stumbling through the snow, and
rocks. But there was no place to hide, no haven, no tree he could
lean his back against. He could hear the Barnacle howling out,
calling his trees to his aid. Something cold and slippery snapped
up from the ground like a giant whip and knocked him onto his face.
Roots. They were everywhere, pulling tugging, pinching. More roots
came and wrapped around his arms, and legs, suspending him the air,
like a bug trapped in a web.

“I’m hungry!” the Barnacle growled, looming
over Andrew. “Do you know how you have tortured me these many
months by staying alive? Drinking your gifts was like tasting a box
full of delicate chocolates only to find out that there is one last
chocolate left. That taste you gave me, before, will be nothing
compared to finally finishing you off. You have tormented me long
enough!” The being loomed over Andrew, its gaping sinuses belching
fog as it breathed a film of frost over Andrew for a second time.
“Do not fight it anymore, Andrew. Embrace your freedom. Embrace
your FATE!”

The word “fate” stirred something inside
Andrew, a memory of Oragino’s speech. Fate? No. It was not his fate
to die on this cold, frosty night. His fate was somewhere out
there. He still had a job to do. Andrew saw, as it were, a tuft of
light swim through the air around his head. Like a moonlight moth,
it settled on his shoulder. A lost, unheard word had found its
home. It fluttered in his ear and whispered. “You can see its
weakness, Andrew. It has always been there. Do not fear.” That was
all the voice said. He did not know whose words they were, or why
they had chosen to settle on him at that moment. The words caused a
funny feeling to flood over him. They were short and sweet, but
sharp like an arrow that somehow penetrated the clouds of the
heavens. They were brilliant, he had never thought to look for the
fiend’s weakness, because he supposed it never had one.

Just as the barnacle made ready to clamp down
onto Andrew’s chest, Andrew’s eyes burned green. He stared at the
Barnacle, first in surprise, then amazement. He saw the Barnacles
weakness. How obvious it was now. Seeing it gave Andrew hope, and
renewed courage. Heat and strength rushed into his arms and legs,
then passed out and into the trees root that held him. The tree
roots stiffened and became as soft as sawdust.

Crack!

The branches fell away from his body, freeing
Andrew just enough for him to reach out and stop the Barnacle from
closing its jaws around his chest.

“No!” Andrew cried out, grabbing hold of its
icy fangs, feeling his hands start to ice over. He groaned and
shook, struggling against the creature’s strength. He could feel
the cold edges of the Barnacle’s fangs scrape his skin. The
creature hissed and belched, blinding Andrew with frost and ice.
But still, Andrew held on.

Growing impatient, the creature jerked back,
just as Andrew pulled back and fell to the ground, gasping. Both of
the creature’s icy fangs were in his hands, like two jagged
icicles. Dark ooze dripped from their jagged roots.

The Barnacle looked at him, shocked. His eyes
filled with disbelief. The being screamed and stumbled back,
letting out a frightening howl that cut through the night like a
thousand ghostly nightmares. The creature’s hands went to its
mouth, hovering over the place where his fangs had been. “No!” The
Barnacle screamed, its body icing over. “This can’t be…” It fell
back, convulsing on the ground, belting out frost and smog until
its tall, bulky form melted into a long sheet of black ice, with
long stringy veins like a spider’s web cutting through its
surface.