The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (54 page)

“Yes, it appears so…” IT’s clipping voice
purred. “Now I can smash you.”

“Wait!” Gogindy whimpered. “Don’t smash me. I
didn’t mean to smash you when you were small. But you bit me. So
you deserved it.”

The bug hissed and clicked its wings
together, then lashed out its jagged arms and smacked Gogindy’s
head with such force that it caused him roll and tumble over the
edge of the tower.

“Help,” Gogindy screamed. For a second,
Gogindy was suspended in space. One hand held firmly onto the bell
ringer’s stick while the other flailed out into the darkness. He
caught hold of the side of the tower digging his claws into the
brick. He howled out and tried to swing himself up. But with only
one arm, it was impossible. Below, he could see only a cloudy haze
and endless darkness.

“Come-on, Gogindy,” he cried. “You can do
this. Just pull yourself up.” He pulled with all his might, and
nearly let go, suddenly startled. The hideous face of the life-size
bug appeared. It craned its neck into an ugly position and brought
the sharp barbs on its arms, dangerously close to Gogindy’s
fingers.

“No!” Gogindy screeched, whacking the
creature with the bell-ringing stick. “Don’t you dare!”

Gogindy jumped onto the insect’s back,
pounding the bug with the bell-ringing stick.

“Get off me you maggot!” the insect yelled,
jerking back and forth, trying to thrust Gogindy away.

“Me, a maggot?” Gogindy howled, clinging onto
the thrashing bug. “You are the one who was hatched from a worm
egg.”

The bug flapped its wings and began to fly,
zipping through the air with a loud buzzing whir at such a speed
that caused Gogindy’s vision to blur. The bug veered back and forth
in the air, trying to dislodge Gogindy from his back.

“Yes, try to get me off, you stupid bug!”
Gogindy cried. “Go ahead. Try. Try to shake me off your beetle
back.”

The bug zipped and veered dangerously through
the air. Still Gogindy held onto the bug. The bug quickly changed
directions and shot high into the air, soaring high above the
tower.

“Ha!” Gogindy laughed, “Now we’ll see who’s
the better bug. You or me.” He opened his mouth and began chewing
on the bug’s wings. “Ugg,” he spat, ripping one of the bugs wings
in half. “You taste like a moth.” The bug swerved, and began to
lose altitude. “Yes! Down we go!” Gogindy cried. “You bad bug are
finally going to get smashed.”

Not thinking about the consequence, Gogindy
reached into his pack and withdrew his rock footprint, and smacked
it down on the bugs head as hard as he could.

Crack!

Instantly, the bug fell, veering downwards at
a frightening speed, crashing straight into the bell of Conroy.
Thunk!

The Fallen

Andrew’s eyes ached and watered. He could not blink.
He could not close his eyes. He could only stare at The Fallen.
Every bit of the creature sparkled, glimmered, gave off light,
dazzled the eye.

Andrew felt strangely ugly and small in front
of such a powerful being. The clothes of The Fallen looked as if
they had been sewn out of sunlight.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in
the mirrored floor, and quickly averted his eyes. To him he looked
like a mere shadow, a smudge of dark ink that didn’t belong in such
a magnificent place. He was nothing in comparison. He was a lowly
stain in this beautiful room. Andrew’s clothes were dirty and
soaked in oil. His skin was dark, and covered in patches of grease
and dirt. His hair stuck up in places. His lips were chapped and
bleeding. Standing in this room of light, next to such brilliance,
he felt unworthy, unclean and unfit to be seen. He wished that the
light would cleanse him, make him new, absorb him into it.

Confusion coursed through his mind calling
into question every motive, every deed, every action, every thought
he had ever had.

He was darkness.

He was not light. How could he be? Perhaps
Croffin had been right. Maybe he was the one who had been wrong all
along.

“Welcome!” the Fallen’s magnificent voice
boomed, his words falling on Andrew’s ears like music. “I have been
looking for you for quite some time.”

“You have?” Andrew breathed, cowering back in
shame. “But I’m so dirty.”

“Yes, you are,” The Fallen laughed, and took
a step towards Andrew. “You are late. I was expecting you a bit
sooner.”

Andrew cowered back. “You were expecting
me?”

“Yes,” The Fallen said, offering a brilliant
smile. “How could I not. Such a guest as you. I have been waiting
long. We have much to talk about.”

“We do?”

“Yes,” The Fallen murmured, his voice smooth
and as sharp as glass. “We do.”

Andrew’s chest tightened. He breathed in
frightened gulps of air, confused by the light which The Fallen
cast over him, beckoning him, filling Andrew with shame, hunger,
and an all consuming desire to let it grind away his identity.

“Wh…who are you?” Andrew stammered.

“Ha ha,” the Fallen laughed. “I think you
already know the answer to that question. Do you not?”

“The Fallen,” Andrew said, his voice ridden
with self loathing.

The Fallen seemed to expand and fill the room
with his powerful aura. “Yes, I am The Fallen!” The words shot out
of his mouth like moonbeams, mingled with a mist of darkness that
escaped his nostrils. They swirled throughout the room, causing the
host of candles in the room to sputter as if in pain. A cold chill
twisted around Andrew’s body, mixing together with the light and
warmth.

“Come,” The Fallen beckoned Andrew to follow
him onto the terrace. “The morning has come. A new day dawns. We
can watch the sun rise together.”

Andrew stood where he was, confusion ushering
around him tickling his fancies, tugging at his senses. Morning? He
could hardly understand the words. What was the sun in comparison
to this being? How could its light even dare to shine on such a
being that now stood before him. The light, instead of causing
clarity, caused him to feel as if he could not breathe, could not
think, could not escape. He felt as if he had been smothered in an
endless sea of white sheets.

The Fallen paused, analyzing Andrew’s
hesitancy with eyes that gleamed with the light of universes
trapped inside his irises. “Are we not brothers, you and I?” The
Fallen asked. Kindness, and goodness dripped from his voice. “Are
we not friends? You have long sought to destroy me. But I think you
can see now that all that I have done, all that I am, all that I
do, is good only.”

Andrew nodded, mesmerized by the light that
The Fallen radiated. “Yes. I see…” Andrew stepped close to the
Fallen, looking up at the being with hopeful eyes.

The Fallen smiled, a subtle, dark shadow
crossing his brilliant face. The Fallen placed a strong hand on
Andrew’s shoulder, slightly brushing his face.

The moment Andrew’s skin came in contact with
the Fallen’s touch, a wave of anxiety and fear gripped him. The
Fallen’s skin felt dead and hard like gleaming fish scales. But
instead of using water to survive, The Fallen absorbed light,
consumed it, sapped it, drank it in order to do one thing.

Survive.

Andrew stepped back, his face filling with
horror.

“Andrew?” The Fallen questioned, his voice
tinted with repressed anger. “What is it?” His face grew stern, his
eyes glossing over with a void that was hungry, desperate,
grasping. Mists of darkness, like steam rising off the earth in
early morning, rose from his shining skin, giving off wafts of
shadows that could no longer be held in by force. They pressed
through the pours of his skin, seeking exit, swirling around his
rivulets of light, like black crows riding an updraft. Andrew
recoiled in horror. In an instant, with one touch, one glance, the
brilliant spell the dazzling creature had cast over Andrew broke.
Andrew saw The Fallen and his light for what it was---all
consuming, deceptive, tarnished---A LIE.

The Fallen’s light was not his own, but
borrowed and stolen. The light he gave was distorted, incomplete,
shrouded, repressed, and short-lived, always hungry, and never
satisfied. It burned like a paper in flames, lighting up fast, then
quickly going dim until it found new fuel.

With each moment, The Fallen’s gleaming
appearance dulled. With each breath, the being breathed out shadow
upon shadow so thick that they stuck to one another like sheets of
black paper that settled on everything they touched, reflecting in
the mirrors, doubling in size and volume like a moaning, restless
choir of demons. To Andrew, looking at The Fallen now was like
looking into a pit and almost falling into it because you were
standing too close. It drew you in like a hungry mouth gaping after
you.

The Fallen stepped towards Andrew. An
unruffled gleam of evil turned the corners of his lips into a
perpetual smile. His whole countenance had changed in a second. Its
glowing eyes had dimmed, as with his shimmering face. It was as if
someone had dimmed the lights, and now everything was several
shades darker.

The Fallen laughed, noting the look of fear
in Andrew’s eyes. At the sound of his laughing, a row of candles in
the room sputtered and went out. “Yes,” The Fallen breathed. “I am
THE FALLEN. And it seems you now remember who you are. I had hoped
to help you forget. It would have been much nicer that way. To both
of us I think. But you, Andrew, will help me be more than just The
Fallen. You will help me Rise! I will be The Fallen no longer. I
will be the Risen!” When he spoke those words, a dark mist rolled
forth from his breath, causing two more rows of candles to go
out.

Andrew drew his sword and raised it high. Its
puny light went unnoticed in the brilliant room. The power Andrew
felt in it was just his own, but powerful and pure. “You have risen
high enough. It is time for you to truly fall.”

The Fallen smiled. “Don’t you see? You being
here will help me rise further. I will rise to such heights that no
one, not even you can bring me down!” The Fallen’s dark words
coursed through the room, mixing with the light, hissing in around
Andrew, violent and angry.

The Fallen stared at Andrew as if trying to
pull him into his power. Andrew tried to avert his eyes from the
black gaze, but the brilliant darkness emanating from his depthless
eyes would not let him look anywhere else.

“Don’t look away from me, Andrew. You have
come far to see me. Now take a long look. Look, and behold the
being you wished to destroy. Now, tell me, what do you really see?
Am I really as bad as you thought? Surely not.”

“I see nothing but a parasite of light,”
Andrew replied. “A leach, a void, a blackness that clothes himself
in robes of light that are not his own, in order to deceive and
plunder so that he can continue consuming that which was not, nor
ever could be, his.”

“A leach? A parasite?” The Fallen shouted.
“Most of what I take or get is given to me, freely by men and woman
who come to pay homage at my doors. It is but a small price they
pay to worship me. Do you not see that whatever it is I take, I
always replace with something of my own. ”

“Yes,” Andrew said, his eyes flaming. “The
world is filled with your useless relics: shadows, lies, deception,
and darkness.”

“Yes,” The Fallen whispered. “I know. I
planted them there so that when I rise, all that I take back will
already be my own. Don’t you see? I own the earth. I hold it in my
hands. I mold it how I wish. The earth has given me its
light---handed it to me willingly. I have not let the people go
away empty handed. For I have given to all, my shadows in
abundance. And the people of the earth have ushered the shadows
into their homes, into their hearts and souls, embraced them and
doubled their volume. I’m well aware that your species is attracted
to light. How you thrive under the sun. I have studied you for some
time now. But, I have also learned that just as much as your people
love light, they are attracted to darkness---and adapt to it quite
well, shade by shade, shadow by shadow, lie by lie. One by one they
come to me until they themselves are changed, and the light they
require is none other than the light I give. Now, it is I, and I
alone, who holds the light and the darkness in my hands. The people
of the earth don’t care for the old ways. The past is just the
past. They want me. I am the new. I am the better way. The sun,
moon, and stars have had their time. Now a new kind of star is
rising. Just as they have cast you out and embraced me, a new way
of life is coming. Don’t you see? You cannot make people want
freedom? Just as you cannot make them love the truth. Especially
when they have become so dependant on me. Just as I have become
dependant on them. And they will continue to come to me, as they
have come before. Like moths to the flame, they will cower before
me! They need my lies, just as I need their light!”

“They may cower,” Andrew cried, “but
I
will never cower!” His grip tightened on his sword. He gazed at the
shining, black vortex, with abhorrence.

“You will!” The Fallen roared. “You will
cower. I WILL MAKE YOU COWER!” His voice thundered through the
room, filling it with more shadows. The Fallen stood before Andrew,
tall formidable and dark. His face was perfectly formed, carved
like white marble, hinting at a gray hue hidden beneath its glass
surface. His skin glowed, giving off an almost charming aura. His
eyes were dark, but glinted with a hidden light that was startling,
striking, hungry, seemingly depthless. His grand countenance that
had seemed harmless at first, gradually changed, dimmed. Strange,
murky veins of black could be seen forming on his face and skin,
growing with each second. “Why will you not be subject to me?” The
Fallen asked, his voice calm, and almost soothing. “We have much in
common, you and I.”