The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (6 page)

“Well,” Andrew said. “If this is my fault, I
need to figure out how to stop it.”

“Good luck with that,” Croffin grumbled.
“Droughts can’t be stopped. They can only be broken. And don’t ask
me how. I’m only a silly coon after all,” he sniffed. Then, taking
his book in his hand, he turned and began marching down the cliff
towards the village. His skunk’s tail swished this way and that as
he bobbed over the slippery slope. “Coming?” He asked, pausing to
look behind him at Freddie and Andrew.

They nodded, and slowly made their way after
him. Once at the bottom of the cliff, they found that the air had
become far more hot, and dry. A relentless wind pushed against them
as if trying to blow them into the village. Sand and dust polluted
the sky making the sun look red, and hotter than ever.

The closer they got to the village, the dryer
the earth became. The road was lined with tall trees, that were dry
and as bleached as brittle bones. Their once green leaves were
brown and crunchy, baked to their branches as if the entire row of
trees had died in one night, and hadn’t gotten the chance to shed
their leaves. Fields of once green grass, and wildflowers were
parched and brown. The wind blew through the dry field, making
their brittle stems rustle and pop, a sound so dry that it might
cause the field to suddenly combust.

The heat dripped down from the sun in sticky
sheets. And once the sun’s rays touched your skin, there was no
shaking it off. It wrapped around you like a pile of blankets,
smothering you, making the air heavy and unbearable. Sweat trickled
down Andrew’s back, causing his clothes to stick to his skin,
making him hotter and more miserable.

He groaned, wiped his forehead, feeling very
tired, and very thirsty. Wafts of heat rose up from the ground to
greet the sun, creating mirages with wings and dazzling hair that
swirled and danced, and beckoned to them enticingly.

Andrew’s head felt hot and dizzy. The heat
was so concentrated that he could not think. His tongue felt heavy,
and stuck to the roof of his mouth, like cotton. He reached for his
canteen, but it was empty. Angry, he glanced up, instantly
transfixed by a dozen mirages that beckoned to him. They were
beautiful creatures, these mirages, fairies of the sun, created by
pools of concentrated sunshine. They shimmered and glistened like
liquid. Their hair flowed down around them like flowing waterfalls,
and gurgling brooks. Their faces were warm, but glistened like
frozen ice. Their arms were slender and reached out, urging him to
come to them, to be cooled by their liquid touch.

He was mesmerized by their beauty. Their
faces were gentle, their wings like rivulets of water that sparkled
in the sun. He licked his cracked lips, as if the mirages could
quench his thirst.

“Come,” their voices urged. “Come!”

Their words fell on his ears like soft rain,
soothing him, causing him to hear nothing else.

Andrew’s thinking became fogged. He could
think of nothing else but to greet these mirages, and to be cooled
by their touch. He took a step towards them, and let one of the
mirages take him by the hand. Its touch was pleasant, like ice and
snow. It cooled him, caused him to feel as if he was floating. The
sensation made him feel very good. The mirage tugged at his arm,
trying to pull him deeper into the haze of mirages that gathered
around him creating a strange mirror-like wall.

“Come!” the mirage urged him, pulling him
towards the glass wall of liquid.

Andrew stepped towards the crystal wall. In
it he could see his own reflection. He touched the wall. Bits of
the liquid stuck to his fingers, causing his fingers to tingle.
“Hurry!” the mirage called to him.

He moved closer, then suddenly stopped,
seeing not only his reflection, but Croffin’s and Freddie’s, as
well. They were running towards him looking frantic.

He thought he could hear muffled voices.
Recognition dawned on him.

“Wait!” He cried, struggling as several
mirages wrapped their flowing fingers round his arms, tugging at
him.

Just as he was thrust into the wall,
something yanked him back. Instantly the mirage, cracked,
evaporated, dissolving into a puff of heat.

Andrew lay on his back on the dry, dusty
earth, panting. The heat hit him in the face, causing the
mind-numbing waters of the mirages to flow quickly away. The stark
heat, and thirst returned, making him long for the mirages.

“What were you thinking?” Freddie asked,
peering over him. “You could have been turned into one of them. You
could have been turned into nothing but a heat wave. They would
have bound you to their will, evaporated you into thin air. How
would you like that?”

Andrew rubbed his eyes, and groaned, slowly
standing. “I’m sorry. I just…” He couldn’t think of the right
words. He glanced longingly in the direction of the mirages that
flitted just out of reach, beautiful beams of living liquid.

Freddie followed his gaze, and quickly shook
Andrew by the shoulders. “Snap out of it. Those creatures won’t
quench your thirst any more than eating a pile of sand will. I know
you are thirsty. So am I. But don’t look at them! We have to help
each other. Okay?”

Andrew nodded, struggling to avert his eyes
away from the tempting mirages. With the absence of the mirages,
the intensity of the heat beat down on him far worse than it had
before, as if punishing him. He wanted to look at the mirages so
badly, wanted to go back. He could feel his will bending under the
pressure and heat.

“You’re stronger than them, Andrew,” Freddie
said, helping him to stand. “We can do this, Andrew. We just need
to keep going.”

Andrew moaned, and stumbled, leaning on
Freddie as they pushed through the flitting mirages that reached
out at them, trying to snag them in their clutches. The mirages’
liquid voices called out to them, tempting them to quench their
thirst. Freddie’s resolve began to wane. Then without even knowing
it, both he and Andrew faltered and began to be entwined by the
shroud the mirages cast.

Croffin walked behind them, with his head in
his book of weeds, seemingly not tempted in the least, nor did he
seem interested in where he was walking. He was wholly absorbed in
his book so that he did not see that Andrew and Freddie were
marching into the clutches of the mirages. He absently glanced up.
His eyes filled with irritation and then horror as the mirages
pulled his friends towards them.

Angry, he thumped his book shut so quickly
that it created a gust of wind that scattered the mirages in a
great cloud of dust.

“What do you know,” Croffin grumbled,
marching past Andrew and Freddie who stood in a daze. “Me and my
book saved you, again. I guess Andrew’s, just as mortal as the rest
of us. Falling prey to the mirages twice in one day! My, my. If I
didn’t know any better, I would say…”

“What?” Freddie snapped, rubbing his dry
eyes, trying to shake off the effect the Mirages had on him.

“Nothing,” Croffin said, hugging his book
tightly to his chest. “Nothing at all. Only that, perhaps we
shouldn’t…oh never mind. It’s not important.”

The shroud of mirages had vanished, leaving
them alone to walk alone through the dry, dusty earth.

Andrew turned away from Croffin and Freddie,
more ashamed than ever. He felt thirsty and dried up, as if part of
his soul had dried up too. At Croffin’s words, he felt a throb of
guilt. Croffin had been right. He had faltered twice. It made him
feel very vulnerable and ill at ease---like he couldn’t trust
himself. He had been deceived so many times. When would he ever
learn? Embarrassed, he marched on ahead, feeling his cracked lips
and sunburned skin burn even more under the unrelenting heat of the
sun.

They plodded on through the dry land, closer
to the village, through a glen of dead, twisted trees that had
become nothing but perverse statues of dry wood. Their smooth
trunks and branches looked like gray marble exposed to the heat of
the day. Andrew felt keenly drawn to them, out of pity. They had an
aura that bespoke of wisdom and a time that had long since
passed.

He placed his hand on one of the tree’s
twisted trunks, feeling its smoothness. He closed his eyes,
listening.

“What are you doing?” Croffin spat, staring
at Andrew with scorn.

“Checking to see if it’s alive.”

“What?” Croffin let out a loud chortling
laugh. “Oh, ha, ha. Ch…ecking to see if it’s alive. I don’t have to
be an expert to know that all these trees are crispy, dead
twigs.”

Andrew moved away from the tree, and sighed.
“Yes, you are right. They are dead. I just wanted to be sure.”

He moved away from the trees and followed
after Croffin and Freddie, feeling a sadness creep over him. The
further they went, the dryer the land became. The closer they got
to the farms and houses they had seen from the cliff, the more
desolated the land looked. Andrew paused at the edge of a village
and surveyed the land with hard eyes. He could see fields of corn,
wheat, and barley, all brown, and withered. A riverbed that had
twisted around the city had become nothing but a dry, empty
space.

They slowly entered the village. A hot wind
blew sand and dirt into their faces as they walked through the
dusty streets. Not a green blade of grass or living tree was seen
anywhere. It seemed as if the city was vacant. Nothing moved except
the wind. A creaking window shutter that had not been properly shut
was thrashing back and forth in the wind. Somewhere within the
city, Andrew thought he heard distant, hints of sad music. It
echoed through the dust, and swirled through the ravaged corn
fields, like a wandering, restless soul, seeking solace.

“Do you hear that, Freddie?” Andrew
asked.

“Hear what?”

“Music. Listen. There it is again. Can’t you
hear it?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I do hear
something.”

“I don’t think that’s music,” Croffin
interjected. “I think it’s my growling stomach.”

Andrew laughed. “Croffin, if that is true, I
think you should go hungry more often. I kind of like the
sound.”

Croffin folded his arms and looked quite
irritated. “I highly object to that idea.”

“Ah, look, that’s where the music is coming
from,” Freddie said, pointing to a small girl sitting on the side
of the street. Her face was in her lap, and her shoulders were
heaving with great sobs. Standing over her was an older woman,
singing a beautiful, sad tune, trying to comfort the girl.

They walked over to them, and stared at them
in concern. “Are you okay?” Andrew asked looking at the small girl,
and then at the woman standing over her. The woman wore a plain
white dress that was smudged with dirt and ripped, in places. She
had kind eyes, and a beautiful face that looked hardened by heat,
and hard work. The girl was thin and ragged, but her eyes were wide
and beautiful. Her hair was long and hung in strings round her
tear-stained face. She looked at Andrew with her big blue eyes, her
lower lip trembling.

The woman looked at Andrew with wild eyes.
Her lips pressed together in tight lines. She made no effort to
answer him, only continued cradling the crying child in her arms.
“We’re thirsty,” the woman finally said, looking directly at Andrew
with pleading eyes.

“Then she better not cry anymore,” Croffin
interjected. “Don’t want her to waste more water.”

“Shut up, Croffin,” Freddie growled, shoving
him.

The woman eyed the strangers with anger, then
grabbed her girl and pulled her away from the strangers.

“Wait,” Andrew cried. “I want to help.”

“Help?” the woman snapped, turning to face
him. “Do you have any water, any food?”

Andrew’s heart filled with pity for the girl
and her mother. Andrew lifted his canteen, and shook his head.
“No…” his voice sounded flat and hollow.

“I thought as much.”

“What happened to this place,” Andrew
wondered.

“Are you blind?” the woman asked. “The
Drought came through here several days ago. Dried up
everything---all our land, every well, every pool of water. And
killed several of our men as it went through. It’s only a matter of
time before we join those who were lost.”

Andrew’s face lit up as he remembered
something. They didn’t have water. But they had gathered a bunch of
fruit from the white trees. He quickly drew two of the glowing
fruits out of his pack and handed them to the woman. “Please, take
these. It isn’t much.”

“What?” Croffin sputtered, reaching for the
canteen. “Don’t give them those. They’re ours!”

“Croffin!” Andrew shouted, sending Croffin a
heated glance. Croffin caught the fire in Andrew’s eyes, and shrunk
back. “Fine if you want to give away what sustenance we do have,
then be an idiot.”

“Thank you,” the woman cried, her eyes
filling with tears. “Bless you, stranger.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. Her face was
alight with a brilliant smile, as she bit into the glowing
fruit.

“How long have you been without water?”

“Too long,” the woman answered. “The Drought
came up suddenly, just before harvest, and destroyed everything.
Dried up every blade of grass, and our well, our last source of
life, dried up three days ago. We sent out men to ask for Morack’s
aid, for food and water several days ago. Rumor has it that he has
food and water in abundance that he will willingly share with those
in need. But by the time they get back, it may be too late.”

“Morack?” Andrew’s heart lurched within him.
“He is offering to help?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “Isn’t it
wonderful?”

Andrew slowly breathed out, feeling his
stomach churn, and his throat tighten.

As if by mere mention of Morack’s name, a
caravan of horses, soldiers, and wagons, bearing food and water
entered the village. Eager voices called out to the villagers.
“Food, water, supplies! Your fears are at an end. You are
saved!”