The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (28 page)

Andrew stood on the wagon, his face dirty,
his eyes filled with a keen, perceptive light. Within the crowd
more soldiers came marching, trying to silence Andrew’s men, trying
to drown out what they might say, before they ever got a chance to
speak.

They could not hold out for long. No. The
city of Copious was too strong. Andrew and his army may have been
able to enter the city, but they would not get out unless something
drastic happened.

Andrew scanned the faces of the people who
stood afar watching the scene. They looked indifferent, like a
stubborn pool of water that refused to reflect light because they
believed there to be no sun.

“Listen!” Andrew shouted. He raised his
brilliant sword flashing its light so all could see. “LISTEN!”

His words rippled through the crowd, piercing
and powerful. Gradually, all the fighting ceased. All eyes were
directed towards him and his magnificent sword. The crowd hushed.
All grew quiet except for the sound of the throbbing chest.

Andrew set his jaw and glared out over the
mass of people. “Do you not hear it? The throb of the words you
have left unheard, and not said. There, do you not hear them,
pounding to get free? You have tried to silence my men before they
would speak. Would you not hear what we have to say before you shut
out the good you might hear?”

“What good could you speak?” A mocking voice
of a soldier growled. “You are nothing but a band of vagabonds, as
worthless as the clothes you wear!”

Andrew clenched his fists and breathed
deeply, trying to calm the anger he felt surging through him. “Look
around you! Do you not see yourselves? Your leaders are corrupt!
Your moment of finery is but borrowed. Your people have given your
weapons away for food. Your leaders have stolen your
firstborn---they control you in ways that you know not because you
are not willing to see, not willing to listen. You are blinded by
the lies, even though the truth is standing in front of you. My
army of freed slaves is now freer than you will ever be. These are
some of your own, your children, and relatives. Your leaders have
lied to you. Their promise of education, of security for those
freedoms taken, has only been your slavery, not liberation like you
supposed. ”

“Our leaders are just!” voices in the crowd
shouted. “These slaves, as you call them, must have been upstarts
and usurpers who deserved such treatment. Else you would have not
entered our city so violently.”

“Listen to yourselves!” Andrew cried, his
voice grinding against his throat as he tried to be heard above the
roar of the people. “Why is it that you cannot see that the very
same people that say they will protect you are the ones who inflict
the most harm? You have given strength to a power that never would
have gotten hold on this earth had you not been so eager, so
willing to believe a lie, and to give yourselves and your liberties
away for mere favors!”

The crowd stirred with anger. Shouts rang
out. Soldiers ran through the streets. Voices howled, shouting out
for the silence of Andrew’s traitorous words. Andrew’s men rallied
around him, ready to protect him if need be.

Andrew’s face shone with sweat. His eyes were
filled with anger. He could not believe the hardness of the people,
their unwillingness to listen, to see the truth. He had destroyed
The Shade’s, Trees, and defeated The Drought, yet the people still
would not listen. Perhaps darkness had too great a hold upon their
hearts, for them to be moved. Perhaps only slaves could be freed
because they had lost everything.

“Listen!” Andrew shouted. “Listen to me!”

The crowd was wild with anger. Swords
clashed, and people screamed. The crowd would not be silenced.

Andrew knew that if he did not act fast, the
people would tear his men apart. He stared down at the chest of
unsaid words that sat in the back of the wagon. With each moment,
the chest bulged and cracked, pregnant with the unsaid words these
people had not allowed to be spoken or heard. The chest started to
shudder and tremble, groaning under the weight of words it carried.
Suddenly, the wagon wheels cracked and collapsed, causing the chest
to fall out onto the ground.

Andrew scrambled to the chest to steady
it.

The chest throbbed with muffled noises, the
lock holding it shut jangled with anticipation.

“Silence that traitor!” Soldiers shouted.
“Silence him! Silence them all!”

“No!” Andrew roared, his voice loud and
angry. “Because you will not listen, because what you have not
said, and refused to say, and hear, because of what you have left
unspoken, I will MAKE you listen! But not to my words, but to your
own! I will make you listen to the unsaid words you and your
leaders have not spoken, but should have. The things you all should
have said long ago. Things
you
should have spoken out for,
but were too afraid to speak when you could have been heard. I will
make you hear the voices you have drowned out by your own deafness.
I will make you hear the cries of those in torment that no one
would hear. I will make you hear voices of the downtrodden, the
helpless, those without a voice, those whom you have condemned to
death without a trial. Those slaves whom you have sacrificed in
order to save yourselves. To the voices of the aged, the words
stolen from infants, and patriots whose unheard words cry up from
the dust against you. This day you will hear, and LISTEN!”

In a fit of anger, Andrew raised his sword
and brought it down with a great force upon the lock holding the
chest shut.

The lock broke in a flash of sparks. The
people cried out and backed away in fear. The lid flew open in a
flood of noise and wind and blinding light. The noise that burst
from the chest exploded over the crowd, knocking Andrew back.
Words, whispers, shouts, cries, laments, haunting notes of music.
The words had been so compacted within the chest that now they
swirled through the air, thick like clouds of smoke, visible to the
human eye, vapors of light. Some words were long, some twisted,
others were jagged, some were sharp, some soft, others rigid and
bumpy, but all were very forceful. Like a choir of saintly monks,
their avid voices, chorused through the air. Some soloed out,
others rang together, woeful and full of sorrow. Words that spoke
things that were hard to hear, hard to believe, hard to speak. But
there was no shutting them out now. The words cut through the air
sharper than any knife, quicker than an arrow, consuming, and as
savage as a hot fire. They pierced the heart and penetrated ears
where previously, only small holes had been for receiving frivolous
words. Some people in the crowd screamed and covered their ears.
Others ran from the very words that they had never said, but should
have. The words spilled out of the chest like a fountain of water
rolling through the crowd, submerging them in words. Wonderful,
frightening, words---true words. These words spread out across the
land, penetrating walls, breaking barriers, shattering silence,
accusing the guilty, condemning the wicked, bending knees, raising
heads, while causing others to turn away in shame, causing
thoughtless hearts to wonder.

The words cut through the crowd, bringing
down the strong and those bent on harming Andrew and his men.

Soldier, saint, sinner, man, woman, child,
feeble, old, young---none were spared. All were brought low in an
instant. Fear, wonder, embarrassment, shame, alertness,
wakefulness, a stark realization to the reality of where their city
stood, and every other emotion coursed freely through the streets.
The words flooded through the crowd, leaving none untouched.

Words flowed around Andrew. They pulsed and
swirled. He heard voices, whispers, shouts, and cries of people
whose voices he did not recognize. Yet he understood their meaning.
Several words floated around his head, like wispy butterflies.

“Andrew,” the words cried. “Hurry, time is
running out!” the sounds of the words were soft, and vivid, like a
ghost from the past. “Look to the sky, everything is graying
already.” A chill of fear gripped Andrew.

Andrew looked up. He wasn’t sure what he was
seeing, at first. The brilliant words had cut through the shrouded
streets and opened a layer of yellow, warm, beautiful light which
poured down over the city. In that one moment he could see the
brilliant blue sky, the yellow sun, the white puffy clouds.
Somehow, he hadn’t noticed how gray and dismal everything really
was, how the blues, yellows, and even the light had become so
diluted. That seam of light was beautiful, unpolluted, and pure.
The words had cut through the shroud just enough for him, and those
watching, to see how gray everything really had become, how
polluted, how dirty they themselves really were. They had been
living in a graying world, polluted one lie at time, they had not
known how dirty they had become, before now.

A gasp rolled through the crowd. Some covered
their eyes because of the light. Others ran from their unsaid words
and the words they would not hear. Their words swirled after them,
tormenting them. The soldiers that had come to destroy Andrew and
his army of slaves cowered before their own unsaid words, like
rabbits frightened of wolves that they, themselves, had created.
Words from thousands of souls they had silenced before they ever
were heard, were theirs to hear and see. The army of impenetrable
forces shrank away from the words, and ran, crushed and brought low
in an instant. The streets were filled with sounds, voices, noises,
shouts from both the unheard words, and those who did not want to
hear them. The gathering of people had thinned considerably. Only
those who could take the words that they heard, and let them sink
into their hearts and mind, stayed. Just as the words had cut a
seam through the gray sky, the words caused the countenances of
those left standing, to change from a chalky gray, to a healthy
color, to a warm human, natural beautiful glow. Whispers, hums, and
stray words floated on the air, catching the breeze, like small
birds, dancing on the current, cooing like doves.

Andrew peered into the chest. It was empty,
except for several small words, lurking in a corner. They looked
frightened, almost afraid to come forth. They were very small, and
thin, like a handful of white feathers. Andrew lowered his hand
into the chest. “Come on,” he encouraged them. “It’s alright. You
can come out now.”

The words darted about the chest like a
school of fish, startled by any quick movements. Andrew held
perfectly still, and gradually the words crept into his hand. The
words felt warm, and comfortable. They caused a strange, but very
wonderful feeling to flood over him. They made their way up his
arm, like an inch worm, slowly at first. Then, folding out their
beautiful wings, they fluttered about him.

Andrew smiled as the words twirled around his
arm, then rose and swirled around his neck. Surprised by their new
freedom, the words burst in a swirl of color and sound, flitting
into Andrew’s ear.

The words tickled his ear, and caused him to
laugh. Astonished, at what he heard, Andrew’s eyes grew wide. “I
love you, Andrew.” The voice was Ivory’s.

Andrew blushed, feeling suddenly very odd. He
turned to Ivory who stood only a few feet away. She too had a
strange look on her face. Yet she had not spoken directly to him,
at least.

They were unsaid, said words.

And perhaps it was better left that way.

Stunned by the outpouring of so many words
coming from the chest, Andrew stood and looked over the crowd,
shocked by the transformation. Those left were few in numbers
compared to what had been, yet those still there were the ones who
were not afraid to hear, nor speak the truth. They had awoken. It
was as if a light had been turned on inside them. They instantly
began helping the poor souls of Andrew’s army who were in need of
care, wounded from the battle of the slave camp. Children, women,
and old men much too feeble to fight that had been rescued from the
slave camp were offered shelter and a place to rest and stay. Men
brought forth hidden weapons that they had concealed. In the wake
of the words, it was as if a great storm had passed through the
city, bringing down the mighty trees with weak roots, testing those
who had appeared not as strong on the outside, but whose roots kept
them still standing.

Here, at last, moment by moment, the words
surged through the city, spreading like fire, purging the land. It
seemed that chaos was all that could be seen in the city. But
Andrew saw through the chaos. He saw the transformation that was
slowly taking place. The words fell onto the ready soil of men’s
hearts, gradually bringing about a change. These words spoke
powerful things Andrew could never say---things that were formed
and fitted like a glove to every individual on earth. Words so
powerful that no one could stand before them. They could either
hide from them, or embrace them.