The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (9 page)

Nothing was the perfect place for the mind to
fill with words, and sad thoughts. Nothing was the perfect
atmosphere for the brain to conjure up all sorts of wild,
frightening beings with teeth, and fang and claw.

“Oh…” Gogindy moaned, covering his ears and
curling up into a tight ball. “I can’t stand it.” He hid his eyes
and buried his face in his whiskers, gradually calming. Slowly,
without even knowing it, he drifted away into a troubled
slumber.

Sometime during the night, his eyes flew
open. His ears trembled. He held his breath, listening. The ground
around him had formed to his body, a bed made of sand, making him
feel especially comfortable. He waited a long time, but hearing
nothing, he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

A second time his ears began to twitch. His
eyes flew open. He jumped up, alert and afraid.

“Gogindy,” a voice whispered. “Gogindy.” The
voice was soft, beautiful, and hauntingly mournful. The sound of it
caressed his ears like the chilly lips of a corpse. “Come,” the
voice sang in a pleading soprano voice.

The ground had grown soft and crumbly around
him. He backed away. He grabbed his trusty rock footprint and
hugged it close. “Did you see anything?”

The footprint made no answer.

“Yes,” Gogindy nodded. “It was spooks.” He
looked around him warily, and then lay back down. “Spooks, spooks.
They’re all just in your head.”

Just as his eyelids drooped shut, a voice
murmured, “You rest where many brave and noble now rest. You will
you soon rest with them if you do not move.”

A crumbly mound of dirt fell onto Gogindy’s
face and ears. He sat up and shook the dirt off his body and face.
“What’s happening?” Gogindy asked, gazing at the wall of dirt
around him. He had sunk still further into the earth as if it was
quicksand. Above him he could see the outline of the sky and
moon.

“The ground, it’s eating me!” he yelped. He
looked round him for his things, trying to find his footprint. But
it had vanished. He cried out in dismay, and dug around in the dirt
until he found something hard. “Don’t worry my friend,” he cried,
pulling it up. But it was not his footprint. It was a skull. He let
out a frightened yelp and tossed it away. “Oh my footprint, I will
save you,” he howled, sifting through the dirt until he came up
with his rock.

“There you are,” he cried, hugging it tightly
to his chest. “I told you I’d take care of you.” He placed the
footprint in his sack, and clawed at crumbling earth. But with the
added weight of the rock, he was too heavy to pull himself up.

“Help!” he cried, grasping for solid ground.
“Help!”

He moaned, and glanced down at his hefty
companion. “I’m sorry but I may have to leave you after all. Just
as he said those words, a small, ivory-white hand reached out and
caught hold of his, pulling him to safety.

He stood panting before a small girl about
ten years of age. She looked angry. Her face and skin looked
unearthly, almost ghostlike.

“Hurry,” she said, grabbing Gogindy’s hand.
“You mustn’t stay here. This is the place of the dead. Many brave
souls fought and died here. The ground was hallowed by the blood of
many, who were not supposed to die. So the ground, out of shame and
respect for those slain, covers the bones of the dead.

“But I am not dead.”

“You wished to be dead. And your heart had no
hope. A heart without hope is very dead.”

Gogindy folded his arms and growled. “Wishing
to be dead, and being dead are two very different things.”

“No, they are not. The ground does not know
the difference so it reaches out to claim its own.”

“Are you dead?”

“Yes,”

“Then how are you…talking to me? Shouldn’t
little girls be in heaven?”

“I was, but your presence brought me here for
the moment. I was the daughter of the captain that died right where
you slept.”

Gogindy looked distraught. “Did he win? Oh,
but he died, and so did you? Then I guess not.”

“Yes, the battle was won, but my father
sacrificed his life for the cause of freedom, as did a vast
multitude of soldiers. It was a battle of battles. After the
battle, all the armor and every weapon, of both dead and living,
were melted together into the bell of Conroy, in memory of those
who fought on this field of battle for freedom. A freedom that must
always be retained and remembered and preserved. The bell was
erected so that its voice could ring out over the land and waken
the people to remember. That is the bell you must ring to awaken
hope in the hearts of men. You must not linger here, but hurry.
Time is running out.”

Gogindy eyes filled with astonishment. “You
know about the Bell of Conroy?”

“Yes.”

“You?” Gogindy balked. “But you are so
small.”

“And so are you,” the girl replied. “But that
does not make a difference, now does it? Little people can know
things just as big people can.”

Gogindy shook his head. “I guess you’re
right. But sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. I guess I just don’t
think I know as much as I thought I did.”

The girl looked at Gogindy with stern eyes.
“You guess? You must know, Gogindy. In times like these, you must
know, or you will be swiftly swept from your purpose. How do you
ever hope to ring the bell if you do not have hope, yourself?”

Gogindy sniffed, and rubbed his whiskers
nervously. “I have hope.”

The girl looked at him with hard eyes, and
slowly shook her head. “You don’t, right now. But you may, in time.
When hope is in your heart, it sings to you. It makes you feel
alive when death is looking you in the eye. It breathes life into
those who are dead. It heals the saddened heart. Gives sight to the
blind. It lights paths that are dark, and claims victory where
there is defeat.”

Gogindy took a step towards the girl.
“Really? It can do all that?”

“Yes. And much more. Now you must hurry and
leave. Your heart holds many dead things. And that makes the land
think you are dead.”

Gogindy looked at his furry chest with
worried eyes. “It does?”

“Yes,” the girl said. “I’m afraid so. Dead
dreams, memories of those gone past, and many unfinished things.
You must try to get rid of the dead weight you carry. A heavy heart
will weigh you down more than any physical burden you carry, and
make it impossible for you to move forward.”

Gogindy looked at his feet. The ground around
them was starting to crumble. He could feel his feet sinking into
the earth. “Hurry!” the girl said, grabbing his hand and pulling
him forward.

“I’m hurrying,” Gogindy cried, running after
the phantom. “But where do I go from here? Where is the tower?”

The girl stopped and looked at him, her eyes
glowing a brilliant blue. “Your heart knows. Rid yourself of fear,
and replace it with hope, and it will take you where the bell is.
Your heart and the bell will resonate as one. And when it does, a
mighty battle will take place, far greater than the one of old. A
battle that will be remembered for all time!” As those words fell
from her lips the earth trembled, the ground shook and crumbled.
She paused and cast Gogindy one last glance and then turned and
ran, vanishing into the night.

“Wait!” he cried, the earth crumbling in as
he ran, creating cracks and gaping holes. He cried out and jumped
over a great fissure, then picked himself up and scrambled after
her.

“Run!” the girl’s voice called out through
the haze, growing soft, and distant.

“I am!” Gogindy panted, coming to a sudden
stop before a yawning fracture in the earth. Gathering his courage,
he jumped over the crack and onto the other side, only to fall as
the ground underneath him crumbled and gave way. As he fell, his
three tails wrapped around a tree root. There he hung, suspended in
space, swaying dangerously back and forth. He pinched his eyes
shut. “I’m not dead, I’m not dead, I’m not dead, I’m not dead. Not
dead, not dead, not dead. I’m alive, I’m alive, I AM alive!”

A strange feeling overcame him. He felt the
tree root he was hanging on vanish. He prepared himself for the
stomach-churning fall and flailed out his arms and legs. Yet, when
he opened his eyes, he found that his feet were in fact on solid
ground. Above him the moon was shining and the earth around him was
quite intact, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Girl?” he called looking around him. “Girl,
where are you?”

When no one answered. Gogindy carefully
tested the ground in front of him, and when he found that it was
quite firm, he laughed, and hugged himself. “I’m alive!” he cried.
“Alive!”

His heart filled with a swelling, hopeful
feeling that had long been absent. “I have hope,” he murmured,
thumping his chest with pride. “I do. I am alive. You hear that. I
have hope!”

Zeechee

That night, Lancedon and the rest of his friends
made their camp in a brambly enclosure. The air was hot and heavy.
Coral stood watch while Sterling and Lancedon slept. The night
reeked not only of heaviness, but the unnerving feeling that they
were being watched.

A persistent wind droned through the dry
bushes and trees, sending leaves and twigs on a perpetual journey
of shuffling and crackling.

Coral sat on a rock, drumming her fingers on
its cool surface. Her eyelids felt heavy. She yawned, and glanced
at the sky.

In an hour she would wake Sterling, and have
him take her place. Lancedon was excluded from night watching for
obvious reasons. She glanced down at Lancedon as he slept. He lay
on the ground, sleeping like a child. His head was turned to her,
his eyes closed, his lips neither smiling nor frowning. A lock of
hair was draped over his left eye. His hands were clenched into
tight fists.

Coral wondered if he was dreaming. And if he
was, what did he see? What did the blind see when they slept?
Feelings, emotions, colors, sounds?

A loud crunch of leaves caused her to jump.
She quickly stood, her eyes glued on the forest. She scanned the
darkness, but saw nothing. The place where they had camped was
nothing more than a dried up forest, devoid of life. The trees were
bent, and old. They groaned in the wind. The ground was dry,
covered in dead vegetation.

She straightened, and pushed herself onto a
large rock. She clenched a small dagger in her right hand, and
scanned the land carefully.

Another crunch of dry vegetation was heard.
She turned, feeling uneasy. Should she wake the others? She had no
wish to wake them if there was no real cause to worry. They had
traveled long, and hard, and needed their rest.

She strained her ears, listening. Yet, there
was nothing. Only the wind blowing through the dry leaves. She was
about to sit back down, when a flickering light in the woods caught
her eye.

Alarmed, she bent down and made a move to
slide off the rock. There was a low clink as something jumped onto
the rock behind her. Before she could scream, someone grabbed her,
clamping her mouth shut. She flailed out her arms trying to slash
her dagger. She could not tell what this stranger looked like, but
the man was tall, and thick like a tree. His voice was callous, and
cruel.

“Calm down,” a steady, proud voice hissed in
her ear.

She tried to scream, and struggled even
harder, slashing her dagger across the arm holding her mouth shut.
The man cried out in anger and released her.

“Lancedon! Sterling!” She cried, scrambling
down from the rock. She stumbled onto her face, dropping the dagger
in a pile of leaves. “Lancedon!” she cried again, leaving the
dagger where it fell.

“Settle down, lassie,” the stranger behind
her breathed, grabbing her and pulling her back. “Or I may have to
hurt you.”

“Let me go!” She protested. Her eyes filled
with fear and surprise. Everywhere she looked, she could see men
dressed in earthy colors, of green and brown, carrying flickering
torches. Sterling was pressed against the ground, with a man
forcing his hands behind him. Lancedon was pushed up against a
tree, groaning in pain as a man slugged him in the stomach. “Look
at this one,” the man laughed. “He’s blind.” The man pushed
Lancedon into a circle of men. A great shout of laughter went up as
the men shoved Lancedon back and forth.

“Stop it!” Coral demanded, struggling against
her captor. “Would you torment a blind man so cruelly?”

The man holding her arm thrust her violently
to the ground.

He stepped around Coral, inspecting her
delicate features and golden hair with hungry eyes. “My, my. But
you are beautiful, even in darkness. Tell me, what is your
name?”

“And if I refuse to tell you?”

“Oh, nothing much. Your friends may only lose
their heads, that is all.”

Coral cast the man a withering glare. He had
an ugly scar on the edge of his mouth that caused his lips to look
permanently in a scowl even when he was smiling. His face was
ruddy, and his chin was brittle with an unshaven beard.

Coral smiled, and glanced coolly around her
at the men who held her hostage. “My name,” she said, her voice
proud and filled with distain, “is Coral. I am daughter of a
king.”

“Oh,” the man raised his shaggy, black
eyebrows. “A daughter of a king. Which king?”

“King Rylee of Boreen. And that man,” she
pointed to Sterling, “is my brother, Sterling. And the blind one
you are tormenting so unjustly is Lancedon, lost son of king
Mineheart. I swear that if you do not let us go, I will strike you
all down with lightning.”

The man raised his brows and glanced above
them at the cloudless sky. “Lightning? That would be a sight. We
have been wanting rain. Pray let us sit down and wait for a storm.
The Drought has been roaming freely these many days, perchance you
are above even its power?”