The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (16 page)

“Come!” the creature commanded, marching on
ahead. Then pausing as if he had forgotten something, he stopped
and glanced at Ivory. “One more thing. You must remember, never,
never to stare into my eyes.”

Ivory nodded. She had already surmised as
much because of the way it made her feel. “But why?’

“Because!” the creature barked, his voice
cruel and hard. “Just don’t. Or you’ll regret it.”

To Crack a Drought

The sun was beginning to rise over the ocean,
sending rays of pink, yellow, and orange light in vivid shafts over
its angry surface, as if trying to calm its turbulent waves.

A blast of cool, salt-dense wind hit Andrew in the
face, cooling his overtaxed body. He and Freddie pushed on through
the sand, heaving the chest.

It had taken them over four days to get this
far. Andrew’s face was parched red, baked. His lips were sore and
cracked. Even his thin shoes felt like they had bonded to his feet
from the heat of the earth he traversed. Heat seemed to bubble up
from the sand, mixing with the cool wind from the ocean, like two
currents of water.

Andrew stood on the edge of a sandy hill
overlooking the Pipewhistle Sea. He smiled, as he looked out over
its wide expanse. It was a beautiful blue-green, foaming at the
mouth, spitting up angry white froth as it heaved against the
boulders on the shoreline.

Andrew closed his eyes, listening to the roar
of the sea as it filled the air with its tumultuous noise.

The sound was so loud, so forceful, so
powerful, so windy. It refreshed them after their long trek, of
endlessly pushing and pulling the chest.

Andrew had been stubborn in refusing help, at
first, but without Freddie helping to move the chest, he would
still be back there, baking in the sun, with buzzards soaring
overhead waiting to pick his bones.

Another blast of wind blew off the water and
stirred through Andrew’s hair and filled his nostrils with the
smell of salt.

“I see no Drought here,” Croffin said,
standing on his haunches, letting the wind blow against him as if
he liked it. “I think that Drust is a little loopy in the head,
that’s what. He sent us on a wild goose chase. And for what? He’s
fooled all of us. Fooled you, Andrew, into taking that heavy chest
off his hands. For all we know, whatever is in there could be
dangerous, toxic, horrible---wild creatures. Yes, furious beasts
that will consume us the instant you release them. That is why he
wanted us to take it so badly. And now here we are at the edge of
the sea, and still, no sign of The Drought. It’s a trick. I’m sure
of it. He had you take the chest to weigh you down so that whoever
is after us will catch up to us and kill us.”

“You sound a little too paranoid,” Andrew
said, staring down at Croffin. “I trust Whab and Drust. They helped
us, you know.”

Croffin folded his arms and frowned. “Helped.
Ha. Hindered is a better word. I think you trust folks too easily,
my boy. It would better serve you to distrust folks until they give
you a reason to trust them, that’s what!”

“But they did give me a reason to trust
them.”

“Sure…like how?”

“They helped Freddie. They gave us a place to
rest. They fed us, and gave us water to drink.”

“Humph. That’s not much. Anyone could have
done that. And most would. I still say, you trust people too
easily.”

“Maybe I do,” He gazed out at the vast,
blue-green waters hopefully. He left the chest where it was on the
top of the hill, and walked to the edge of the shore. The sea
thundered against huge volcanic rocks that stuck up out of the
water. The roar was so loud that it almost drowned out any
conversation. Above the roar was a pleasant, mournful whistling
sound, as if the wind from the ocean was blowing through holes in
the volcanic rocks on shore, making flute-like sounds.

Andrew took off his shoes, and stepped into
the water, savoring the feeling of the cool water washing over his
feet. He laughed, and splashed into it, letting the clean water
flow against his dusty body.

The water was wild, and restless, like a
black stallion, yet deep, and full of great wisdom that it would
willingly share only if one were brave enough to ask.

“Never saw the sea before,” Freddie murmured,
splashing after Andrew. “I always thought it would sound
different.”

“What did you expect it to sound like?”
Croffin spat, sitting daintily on the edge of the shore, careful
not to get his paws wet.

Freddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe more
peaceful.”

“Peaceful?” Croffin balked. “Ha. The sea is
anything but. It is a raging lion, an angry bull, a savage tiger
waiting to gobble you up. The moment it stills, it purrs, calmly
waiting to pounce on you and drag you under the second you are
lulled by its deceiving waters.”

“Sounds as if you don’t like the ocean much,”
Freddie mused.

“Nope. Never have, never will. It’s too big
and wet, for me.”

“I think it’s wonderful!” Andrew said, his
face lighting up. He ran through the cool water and swam against
the pull of the crashing waves letting the water wash over him. He
steadied himself against the pounding waves, and came up laughing.
The water renewed him, made him feel alive, and awake. He wiped
water from his face and glanced back at Freddie and Croffin. They
both stood very still, staring at a large, dry, dusty creature
standing just a few feet away from the shore. The creature loomed
over the edge of the ocean like a towering mountain covered in
cracked clay and sand. Its hands were outstretched, its face dry,
and crumbly as a corpse that had been in the grave for a thousand
years.

The moment Andrew saw it he knew what it was.
The Drought.

The Drought laughed when he spotted Andrew.
The sound was loud and dry, as if the sandy air expelled from his
lungs had turned to glass marbles from the heated blast in his
throat.

“Come!” The Drought boomed louder than the
roaring waves. “I have been waiting for you.”

Without fully realizing what he was doing, he
splashed through the water towards The Drought. He stopped just as
he reached the shore. He stood before the formidable creature,
mesmerized by its volume, and stature. Andrew felt small, and
dwarf-like next to such a tall, powerful mountain-like creature. It
was as if he was looking up into the face of the being that created
thirst itself---something so powerful that years of abundance and
prosperity were dried up and evaporated with a single glance. The
Drought’s big, glistening eyes caught the light of the sun,
magnifying its heat a thousand times over, creating a wave of heat
he could not escape. It enfolded him, grasping him into its
clutches. He felt like a rabbit caught in the strong jaws of some
wild creature. In The Drought, fullness was emptiness, and
emptiness was fullness. In such a creature there was no mercy, no
conscience, no constraint---only greed, and a continual thirst that
was never quenched, never satisfied, never appeased. In The
Drought, Andrew saw a thousand waterless deserts, fields of
bleached bones, withered leaves, dead trees, dry wells, empty
lakes, thirsty throats, years of rainless summers, snowless
winters, weary backs, and broken souls. In him, there was only
dust, bitterness and consuming heat. With a single glance, its gaze
could ignite a forest fire that would burn long into the winter. In
the Drought’s eyes were dust devils and waves of heat that were so
destructive that nothing could stand before it. His eyes were large
and glassy---they shone and glistened, like two pools of water in
the desolated desert of his face. Around the edges of his watery
eyes, was a buildup of gritty sand that shifted and cracked as he
blinked.

What this creature left behind was only
destruction, ravaged lands, and other creatures like itself,
buzzards to scavenge whatever it had left behind.

Andrew quickly averted his gaze away from the
creature’s huge, glassy eyes, feeling instantly very thirsty. His
tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, and his lips cracked. His
skin felt hot and sapped of moisture. It was as if he were a tender
plant beginning to wilt before the beating of the sun. A subtle
fear crept over him as his thirstiness increased. He looked behind
him at Freddie and Croffin. They stood petrified in place, overcome
by fear of moving, as if held captive by some unseen hand. Andrew
felt overcome by a terrible urge to swim into the ocean and never
look back.

How could he have been responsible for
releasing such a horrible plague? What could he do to stop this
terrible creature? Before it, the mighty oak, the vast field, the
strongest man down to the least, from beast, to creeping bug, from
the smallest teardrop, to the greatest lake, all had succumbed to
its will.

“We finally meet,” The Drought’s hot voice
called to him sending a blast of heat that pricked Andrew’s skin,
burned his eyes, and dried up the water that lapped around his
feet, cracking the sand beneath them.

“Don’t look so surprised,” The Drought went
on. “After all, it is you who is responsible for my release. I have
done great things to the land, to the whole world, in fact. My
touch has been felt far and wide, from the greatest, to the least.
All have felt my power, all have bent under my heated gaze. It is
the people of the world who have you to thank for my release. And
I, too, I thank you for it.”

“Don’t thank me,” Andrew shot back. “I had
nothing to do with your release.”

“Oh, don’t underestimate how important you
are, Andrew. Whether you believe it or not, you were the reason.
And for that, I must now destroy you before you destroy me.”

“How do you know I can destroy you?” Andrew
questioned. “You yourself stated that none, not even the greatest,
can stand before you.”

“Yet,” The Drought’s crumbly voice went on,
“you are here, standing before me, why…?” He paused, and smiled.
“I’ll tell you why, because somehow you know that only you can
break me, only you, the reason that I am free, can stop me. Though
I have you to thank for my freedom, I must also eliminate you
before you eliminate me. I have been very curious to see what kind
of soul you are. I had hoped you were something a bit
more…formidable. But to look at you, I am very disappointed. I had
hoped to find a bigger reason for my release, something of a foe,
something worthy of my waiting---perhaps a towering soul full of
water and will, a strong current not easily broken. But you are
nothing but a small pool, a puddle really, easily dried up, easily
evaporated. And I will see to it this very day. I will see to it
that you will cower before me like all the rest have!”

At his words, Andrew heard someone scream.
The voice sounded like Ivory’s. It triggered something deep within
him, fear, confusion, anger---hope.

The Drought reached behind his massive self,
and tossed Ivory and Talic to their knees before him---at least
Andrew thought the other person was Talic. Andrew couldn’t be sure,
because the boy had weird, long, jagged ears, and even longer
whiskers protruding from his face. His eyes were red and wild, and
strange, random whiskers stuck out from his body like a wind-blown
dandelion.

Andrew hadn’t seen Ivory and Talic in such a
long time, he couldn’t believe that The Drought had brought them to
him. Both Talic and Ivory looked parched and very thirsty. Their
blistered faces were sun-baked, and peeling. Their lips were
cracked and bleeding. They looked too weak to get up from where The
Drought had thrown them. Ivory’s hair was frazzled and hung in
tangled knots over her face. She looked up, trying to push herself,
but unable to stand. She stared at him through pleading eyes.
“Andrew?” she whispered, her voice cracking in her throat. “Don’t…”
Her throat was so dry that the words never came out.

“Ivory? Talic?” Andrew cried, taking a step
towards The Drought. “What have you done to them?”

“Nothing a little water won’t cure,” The
Drought sneered.

“Let them go!” Andrew commanded.

“I will.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll let them go. If you’ll just let me
look into your eyes.”

“Look into my eyes?”

“No!” Ivory shook her head. Her eyes were
filled with fear. Her voice trembled, scraping out of her dry mouth
with each painful syllable “Don’t.”

“Quiet!” The Drought roared expelling a
withering wave of heat over Ivory. She groaned, and lay stretched
out over the sand, uttering not a word.

“It is your life or the lives of your
companions,” The Drought said. “Choose quickly, or I will not
hesitate to dry up the girl first, then the boy, and then your
companions behind you.”

His words hit Andrew in the face, blasting
him with heat and sharp sand, causing him to step back. His skin
burned, his throat felt dry and sticky. His eyes burned as if he
had never blinked before in his life. His chest ached and throbbed
as if his heart knew what was coming, knew that it would soon be
dried up and all the blood with it. He looked at Ivory’s pitiful
figure, outstretched on the hot sand, Talic whimpering near her
feet, yelping and quivering like a frightened mouse. Behind him,
the roar of the ocean had gone quiet, calmed as if it, too,
expected its depths to be dried up. He pictured Freddie and Croffin
behind him, their fate now in his hands. The Drought himself had
said that he was the only one who could destroy it. Yet, he knew
nothing of Droughts. He had no burst of inspiration. No profound
insight into what would bring it down.

Drust had told him not to worry about what he
should do when faced with The Drought, but to act, to take a step
of faith. Hadn’t Drust looked into his future, hadn’t Drust seen
this very moment? If it was his fate to die today, wouldn’t Drust
have told him? If his future steps were already recorded somewhere,
waiting for him to travel the path that only he knew he would take,
if he was to act, if he was to have faith, if he was to see where
his steps took him, he knew the only thing for him to do was step
forward.