The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (12 page)

Drust gazed at an old picture frame hanging
on the opposite side of the cave wall as if he hadn’t heard Andrew
at all. The picture hung sideways on its nail. In its frame were
two very small baby footprints, with carefully lettered words below
them
, Baby Drust, may your feet grow into a strong man, and may
you always keep on the right path.

“Drust?” Andrew asked again.

“Hmm?”

“Will you read my footprints?”

“Will I what?” Drust snapped. “I should say
not…” his voice faded when he saw that Andrew was serious. Half in
irritation, and half in curiosity, he looked down at Andrew’s
footprints. He squinted, and held a candle above the prints,
looking at them with keen eyes, barely tracing the outlines with
his finger. Whab leaned over him, as if curious as well.

“You’re blocking my light, Whab. Get out of
the way!”

Whab stepped back and folded his arms,
waiting.

After a full minute, Drust looked up, his
eyes filled with wonder.

“What do you see?” Andrew asked.

Drust straightened himself, looking at Andrew
with new eyes. “You walk differently than the others. I had thought
you were much the same. But…”

“But what?”

“I was wrong about you.”

“And…?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Where will I end up?”

Drust’s face filled with a mysterious air.
“That’s not for me to tell. Only yours to decide.”

Andrew’s face filled with anger. “Can’t you
tell me anything? Am I on a good path?”

“Well, that depends. If you mean good, as in
“safe.” No. You are on a very dangerous path, even more so than
ever before. But the way you walk will affect the paths of many
others for years to come. Take care to watch your step, for your
path will be a lonely one in the days ahead.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Don’t trouble yourself about the
future. It will trouble you sooner than you wish. You are writing
the future with each step you take. ”

“What does my path say about The Drought?
Will I ever see my other friends again? Do you know if they are
alive?”

“So many questions. Only this I will answer.
Your other friends you speak of, I do not know. But yes, you will
see The Drought, and very soon, too.”

“And?”

“And the rest is up to you. You are indeed
the maker of your own path. It is not up to me to show you where
you will yet walk. You must show yourself.”

“How do I do that?”

“You already know the answer to that
question. Besides, the things most important in a footprint are the
repeated patterns that I see---the beginnings, your very first
step, and how you took it. That is what is important---when you
have dared to walk alone, to step away from the masses following
the followers that do not know where they are going. The first
steps are a good indication of the last, and indeed, from what I
have seen of your past, you need not fear, though you have much to
fear, Andrew. Don’t be afraid. To walk in shadow doesn’t mean you
have to become a part of it. And besides, now I know that you are a
friend, not foe, we can all sleep in peace tonight.”

Andrew folded his arms and stared at Whab who
was looking at Drust with eager eyes, signing to him with his
hands.

“Why is his mouth sewn shut?”

Drust glanced over to Whab, and smiled. “Ah,
him? Whab, oh he’s a good soul. His mouth was sewn shut by a wicked
king who wanted to silence him.”

“Why did he want to silence him?”

“Because Whab had been a great lord himself,
second only to the king. He had been told to speak a lie, to look
past the darkness the King had let into his kingdom. But instead,
Whab decided to speak the truth. So, the King punished him, had
Whab’s mouth sewn shut before he could say another word, then
tossed him out of the kingdom. He thought by silencing Whab, he
could silence the others who wanted to speak the truth.”

“Did it?”

Drust nodded. “Yes. It created such a fear in
the people that there rose up a great drought both of hearing
truth, and speaking it. You, yourself, know this. When was the last
time you heard the truth spoken in the streets, or echoed in the
stillness of night? When was the last time you heard a stranger
whisper such words to their friends? Though our land is in great
need of water, and a Drought has been released, our land has been
thirsty for truth much longer. Without such life-sustaining words,
our souls have dried up and withered. In cities and towns you see
them---those thirsty souls, afraid, unable to speak, unable to
hear. The ground was hard and dry long before The Drought
came.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Andrew said, looking at
Whab with admiration and pity. He held out his hand and touched
Whab’s swollen lips, sealed together by a band of unbreakable
string. “Does it hurt?”

Whab shook his head.

“But how do you eat? How do you drink?”

He cocked his head to the side, and grabbed a
hollow reed, and tucked the reed into a loose fold of his mouth
where the stitching was loose enough to create a small opening.
Then he carefully poured a pitcher of water over the reed. He
stopped and then taking the reed out of his mouth, smiled through
his eyes at Andrew.

“Can’t anyone cut the strings for him?”
Andrew asked, appalled.

Drust took Andrew by the shoulder. “Until
now, I did not think it was possible. But after seeing your
footprints, I am of a different opinion.”

“What do you mean?”

“The string Whab’s mouth was woven shut with
was enchanted. No living soul on earth can break it, unless the
words he never got to say are released. He was bound by a curse to
keep every unsaid, and every unheard word never said or heard by
man locked inside a chest, to keep them for the end of his days,
burdened by the weight of hearing but not being able to speak them.
You see, Andrew this cave holds far more than just footprints. Whab
is the keeper of every word that goes unheard, and every word that
goes unsaid.”

Andrew looked from Whab to Drust in
confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“You don’t?” Drust repeated. “Ah, but you
soon will!” He laughed and grasped Whab by the shoulders and shook
him. “I have seen it in the boy’s footprints. The end of your curse
is soon at hand, and all that you have kept in silence will be
free. FREE. Do you understand? This boy is the one who will free
those unsaid, unspoken words. Words of truth! The ground will not
be so dry anymore. Things worth hearing will be heard, things worth
saying will be said again!”

Tears filled Whab’s eyes, and he and Drust
danced around the room, thumping and hollering so loudly that they
woke up Croffin, causing several bottles of footprints to crash to
the floor and break.

“What’s wrong?” Croffin snapped, glaring at
the two noisemakers with a red, swollen eye.

“Nothing is wrong!” Drust cried. “All is
right!”

“Not if you woke me up out of a peaceful
slumber!” Croffin retorted.

“Careful,” Drust cautioned Croffin. “From the
tone in your voice, I should say the tone in your pad prints are
very much the same. A word of warning to you. Be careful, for such
tones lead to the picking of wrong paths.”

Croffin looked at Drust like he was insane.
“What tone in my voice? Me take wrong paths? Pish posh! I’m a coon.
Coons don’t take wrong paths; they may spy, sneak, lurk in the
dark, but we don’t take paths. Paths choose us.”

Drust smiled knowingly. “Paths never do the
picking. Just as peach trees never asked to be picked over a cherry
tree. It is the picker that must choose if he wants his peach
picked while it’s still green, ripe, or infested with worms.”

Croffin let out a loud yawn, and scratched at
a flea. “Ah, In my life, I have come to the conclusion that you
must leap from tree to tree, before whatever road that’s out there
overtakes you. And if that road overtakes you, you must be sure not
to be the one standing in its way.”

“You have a lot to learn,” Drust murmured.
“No road or path may overtake you without your consent. It’s the
forks in the road that you have to be wary of. They like to prod
you into paths that are not desirable.”

“I shall try to remember,” Croffin yawned,
closing his one eye, and placing his skunk’s tail over his face.
“Forks are dangerous. I always eat with my fingers, anyhow.”

“Drust…” Andrew asked, pointing to Whab and
ducking as a spray of dirt was tossed at him. “What is he doing?”
Whab had gone over to the darkest corner of the cave and was
digging like a madman, thrashing, and scratching up dirt
obsessively.

“He’s digging…” Drust said, holding a candle
over Whab who was heaving up dirt with his bare hands, creating
quite a hole in the cave floor. Drust stopped short, unable to
think of the right words.

“I can see that, but why?” Andrew
prodded.

Drust glanced at Andrew, his eyes shining and
fearful in the candlelight. “He’s digging it up.”

“Digging what up?”

Drust didn’t answer. He just stood over
Whab’s shoulder watching, waiting, almost afraid.

Though Andrew was tired and yearned to sleep,
he could not. His eyes were glued to the spot where Whab was
digging. With each bit of earth he dug up, the ground seemed to
throb and vibrate. The deeper he dug, the louder the sound became,
low, and throbbing, haunting---thump, thump, thump.

Whab dug and dug, heaping vast piles of dirt
around the hole, until the hole itself seemed to gobble him up. The
earth vibrated, and shook, throbbing with a hammering, haunting
sound, louder and louder. Then a hand appeared out of the hole.
Drust reached out and grasped the hand, and helped Whab up. They
both stood over the deep hole, staring at what Whab had
unearthed.

The throbbing sounds echoed through the cave
like a carpenter chipping away at a piece of wood.

“It has grown,” Drust said. “It’s very
large.”

Whab nodded.

The sounds from within the hole lulled, and
then became utterly quiet.

Andrew leaned over the hole. He could barely
make out the outlines of what looked like a large chest.

The sounds suddenly returned, causing Andrew
to jump back. The sound throbbed like a broken heart, unable to
find peace. The sounds were intense, and impossible to ignore.
There were muffled groanings, weepings, and a hundred other voices
that rolled like thunder, all muffled and coming from within the
chest.

Andrew’s heart lurched within him. With each
sound, it was like something punched him in the gut. He stepped
back and covered his ears. The mournful sounds groaned, louder and
louder as Whab, and Drust pulled the chest up and out of the hole.
The sounds told of forgotten promises, lost treasures, fallen
kings, and of youth long since overtaken by age…things he could not
quite hear, but felt.

“What is in there?” Andrew asked, horror
lacing his voice.

“Lost words that no one has ever heard.
Unsaid words, and unheard words. The things that people should say,
unsaid things that should be heard, but have never been.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

Drust looked from Whab to Andrew, his face
full of mystery. “Because, it is you, Andrew who must free these
words. And by freeing these you will have broken Whab’s curse. You
will have freed him as well.”

The desperate pounding of the words locked
inside the chest caused Andrew’s heart to fill with fear. “I don’t
know if I can do that.”

Whab’s face drained of color, tears welled up
in his eyes. He grabbed Andrew’s hand and placed it on the chest of
words as if begging him to release both him, and the words.

“Don’t you understand,” Drust said. “These
words have been waiting here for you to release them. If you are to
summon the people, you must first release these words. Truth has
been hidden far too long. Secrets that need to be known, dark deeds
that have been done must be seen by men, things that no one wants
to see, hear, or say must be heard, seen and digested. The truth
is, many have tried to hide the truth far too long. If it remains
hidden, nothing you do will matter. These words need air, they need
to be heard. They need to be said. So many, including, myself have
been silent, when they should have spoken, and now because it is
outlawed, they have lost their ability to speak at all. These words
will stir the people, will help them to remember! These words will
show them the right path they need to walk. And you, Andrew are the
one who must release them.”

“Why me? Why haven’t you done it
yourself?”

“Because it is not I, but you who must. You,
who are the bearer of truth. And with these words, you will create
a wave that will wash over the world, such a sound of truth that
the world has never heard, a voice that will be silenced no longer.
You must take this chest, and free these words, give them life,
give them breath. Locked up, forgotten, and buried underground,
these words are dying, losing the power for good they could do.
These words are words of true substance, words of meaning, words of
strength, of courage, and truth. Such words have not been permitted
to be heard, or spoken. You must free them!”

“Here?” Andrew asked. “Now?”

Drust smiled, and shook his head. “No. Not
here. Not now.”

“If not here, then where?”

“In a place where such words are outlawed.
That is where they will mean the most. That is the place where they
will carry the farthest.”

“And what place is that?”

“You will know the place when you find
it.”

Whab nodded, and handed Andrew a large, gray
key. “Whab wants you to take this. You may need this to open the
chest. But I’m sure that you will not need it. When the time is
right, you will find the appropriate means of releasing these words
to the world. But do not open the chest until you find the place
where the words locked inside the chest will mean the most. Do you
understand?”