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

  The Last Summoning

  Andrew and the Quest of Orion’s Belt

  Book Four

  Ivory Autumn

  Copyright 2014

  Smashwords edition

  Lost and Found Publishing

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

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  favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard

  work of this author.

  Smashwords FIRST EDITION

  Visit the author at: http://www.thewritinggarden.blogspot.com/

  Thanks

  My particular appreciation, and gratitude goes out to the incredible "janitors" who cleaned and polished these words to make this story shine brighter. To Holly Remkes, for catching the things I did not see, for reading this book out loud to her children, helping me to find out what made kids laugh. To Jeanette, the first reader of my book, for her belief in my work, for her encouragement, and for the hours she dedicated combing over it, making me feel like my story really mattered and meant something. To Casey Smith, for his willingness to read, for his insights, his help, and encouragement.

  To Taviann Justice Ho---for her technical eye, and dedication, and fine tuning, even when she was sick, and had masses of work already on her plate.

  To my sister, my fellow philosophizer, and best buddy, Bessie, for the long walks, and talks---to the one person who can listen to my silly ideas, and actually decipher what they mean.

  Thank you!

  Table of Contents

  Thanks

  Characters of Note

  The Last Letter

  Twisker Proverb

  Chapter One--Summons

  Chapter Two--The Blind To See

  Chapter Three--Waking The Desert

  Chapter Four--Root And Shadow

  Chapter Five--The Drought

  Chapter Six--Mirage

  Chapter Seven--Fighting Blind

  Chapter Eight--The Land Of The Dead

  Chapter Nine--Zeechee

  Chapter Ten--Wounded

  Chapter Eleven--Footprints

  Chapter Twelve--Escape

  Chapter Thirteen--The Heavy Burden

  Chapter Fourteen--The Blogs

  Chapter Fifteen--To Crack a Drought

  Chapter Sixteen--Soundwave

  Chapter Seventeen--The Last Flicker

  Chapter Eighteen--The Inbetweeners

  Chapter Nineteen--The Debate

  Chapter Twenty--Fuel

  Chapter Twenty-one--Oil

  Chapter Twenty-Two--The Chest of Unsaid Words

  Chapter Twenty-Three--Heard on the Wind

  Chapter Twenty-four--Voices

  Chapter Twenty-Five--Summit

  Chapter Twenty-six--Unleashed

  Chapter Twenty-seven--Battle of Black Ice

  Chapter Twenty-eight--Cracking

  Chapter Twenty-nine--Entombed

  Chapter Thirty--Apples

  Chapter Thirty-one--The Fractured Mountains

  Chapter Thirty-two--Following the Scent

  Chapter Thirty-three--Deception

  Chapter Thirty-four--Taken

  Chapter Thirty-five--The Poisonous Book

  Chapter Thirty-six--Soggy Crackers, and Scribbly

  Chapter Thirty-seven--Alone

  Chapter Thirty-eight--The Warning

  Chapter Thirty-nine--Shadelock

  Chapter Forty--Replaced

  Chapter Forty-one--The Fallen

  Chapter Forty-two--Death

  Chapter Forty-three--The Birth

  Chapter Forty-four--Dispersed

  Chapter Forty-five--Shafts Of Hope

  Chapter Forty-six--Black Snow

  Chapter Forty-seven--The Last Summoning

  Chapter Forty-eight--The Battle Of Hope Rises

  Chapter Forty-nine--The Passing of the Flame

  Chapter Fifty--The Falling of The Fallen

  Chapter Fifty-one--Sight

  Chapter Fifty-two--Dawn

  Chapter Fifty-three A New Star

  Epilogue

  About the Author/Books By Ivory

  Characters of note

  For you forgetters or skipper-aheaders

  Andrew---A half elf, half Star. A strong, steady young man with special powers over plants, bequeathed with a sword which has the power to destroy The Fallen only if he can summon 500,000 united men whose hearts are pure, to give power to the sword.

  Ivory---A spunky, red-headed, green-eyed elf who is one of Andrew’s friends, and affectionate admirers.

  Freddie---Andrew’s best friend, and most trusted, loyal companion.

  Talic---A trusted friend of Andrew’s---turned into half a Twisker.

  Gogindy---A mischievous, bewhiskered Twisker. A mouse-like creature from the Dandelion Den who has good intentions, but usually ends up in trouble.

  Lancedon---The blind prince, rightful heir to the throne of Danspire.

  Page---Lancedon’s sister.

  Sterling---A half elf from Boreen, who lost his wife at Morack’s hand. Coral’s brother, sweetheart to Page, and Lancedon’s companion.

  Coral---Lancedon’s love, and Sterling’s sister---A half elf, and princess from Boreen, with the power to call lightning to her, and warm all by her touch.

  Croffin---A naughty, complaining raccoon with only one eye, bequeathed with a skunk's tail, after he lost his own tail by a tragic misfortune.

  Morack---Lancedon’s evil uncle who has taken power in Danspire and clouded the people with his lies, and sold his kingdom into the bondage of The Fallen.

  Vargas---One of the Fallen’s cohorts, a snakeman and king of power over many lands.

  The Fallen---A fallen, darkened star---a black hole who consumes light and good, taking all light to himself.

  The Shade---The Fallen’s shadow, cast in darkness---guardian of shadows, and the three evil trees who once poisoned the soil with their roots.

  Barnacles---Evil leaches of elves’ gifts. Creatures that preyed upon Andrew, drained him of his gifts, and nearly killed him.

  The Last of Letter

  Dear Reader,

  I’m afraid I am not very good company at the moment. I am in a very foul, stinky mood. So if you were wishing to be in good company, I suggest you look elsewhere.

  If you do happen to insist on spending time with me, then just know I have warned you. It’s not my fault if your mum sticks you in a corner and makes you wash dishes for a week for spending time with creatures as naughty and bad as myself. Who knows what naughty things you might learn under my tutelage---what whiskers you may grow, and what terrible cravings you may have to eat something crunchy, and to do something sneaky.

  Oh yes. I almost forgot to tell you. This is not Ivory speaking…or writing. No. Unfortunately, this is Gogindy. You may have already guessed. But I thought I'd let you know, you know.

  Please don't throw the book at me. Or ask me why am I doing Ivory’s job writing this. Because there is no good answer for that question. Only that I am now writing, and she is not.

  Wait? You don’t think "because" is a good enough reason?

  Hmm…neither do I.

  You want the truth?

  So do I.

  Oh. Alright.

  The truth is, I am the reason she is not here,
and I am very unhappy to write down the fact. The truth is that I am a bad, horrible, naughty Twisker. Very, very bad! If it hadn’t been for my foolishness, Ivory would be writing this, and not me. I would just be adding my two cents, which is very two cents like. Easily obtained, lots of it, and very easy to sweep into the dust bin, like I have been accustomed to doing on many occasions.

  The truth is, I hate myself right now.

  I am alone. And it’s m…my fault.

  Sniff. Cry….and I don’t know how I will ever go on.

  Ivory, and Talic are dead, on account that I gave Talic some Twisker Zolic, and it turned him into me---well, not quite me, but very like me, very naughty, very whiskery, very odd and impulsive.

  From there, everything went very bad. Very bad indeed. If it hadn’t been my lust for revenge, perhaps they would both be here, alive, instead of being digested inside of a horrible lava tube monster’s belly. Yes, that is the morbid truth. They were both eaten. How I hate the thought of it.

  Truth be told, I don’t know if I will ever be a good Twisker. Twisker natures are naughty, sneaky, and devious. We try, that is true, but we easily forget. We have many good intentions, all which sound very nice on paper, but in reality are very hard to execute.

  We don’t seem to think very far ahead, and when we do, it’s to worry. We like goodies and munchies, too much. We nibble where we aren’t supposed to, and we speak when we should be silent.

  It’s as if we are born with an internal compass pointed wherever it is we want to go. It is always spinning and spinning, changing directions with the wind. So we follow it, only to backtrack in the other direction.

  Sigh. I do want to change. But it does seem that whenever I set out to change, forces stronger than nature itself conspire to stop me.

  But I do know that I will try. Things being as bad as they are, I must change myself into the Twisker I was meant to be. One that is unselfish, kind, and brave.

  I do not care that the task seems utterly impossible.

  I welcome it. For I am responsible for the deaths of my two best friends. And I will carry on in the cause for which we have all fought so hard to uphold. I will take part in the ultimate summoning of the world. I will aid Andrew, wherever he is.

  As long as I have whiskers left on my body, I will fight for the cause of light. This I will do. I will keep the faith, and hold aloft hope.

  And I hope you will stay by my side, through the thin pages of this thick book, no matter how lengthy it may be. For it is quite large, plump, and fairly weighty, and rightly so, for it contains the last fragments of the history of my people, and your people, as well.

  Not to mention that this book is full of darkness, a darkness that is very, very heavy, and can not be condensed---not the nice kind of darkness in which you can sleep, and wake up refreshed, and lightened of your burdens. That kind of dark is good, and beautiful, even blissful.

  No. The darkness I speak of is a kind of darkness that is full of nightmares, and a million other nasty creatures, a darkness one cannot sleep in, and is made all the more heavy, and burdensome by its ever-present pressing weight.

  Moreover, speaking of the weightiness of this book, if words had weight, mass, and each word weighed differently according to its importance, this book would be laced with golden words, silver, and platinum, steel, copper, lead, and some pages would probably even be rusted around the edges. If this was the case, I'm sure this book would be much heavier than it is. Thousands of pounds, even.

  Not to worry, the words that I have added probably weigh much less than anyone else's words; they are like plastic---hollow like aluminum cans, and are easily tossed away in the wind for anyone to pick up again. Yes, my words are small, tiny ones that can be reused, or discontinued. But I do hope that a few of my smallish words weigh more than the rest, and mean more, and live on long after I pass away, and my whiskers fall from my face. That you may glean some polished piece of gold and keep it, and pass it on to someone in need of light.

  Oh, and before I go, just in case you have forgotten what this book may be about, and what happened previous to this dreary now, I will give you a short accounting so you will not be as lost as I feel at the moment.

  In the last book, "The Shade's Trees," The Declaration of Dependence was announced, and a new area of mingled shadow and light was welcomed in by the people of the world. Lancedon, and Sterling were nearly burned to death by the evil king Morack. But Coral rescued them.

  Andrew, Freddie and Croffin journeyed through the land of the Brittlewambers, where Andrew received a magic shell made by the Brittlewamber, Shellbee. And Croffin, who tragically got his beautiful raccoon tail chopped off, received a new tail, a skunk's tail, in its place, from the kind Endfinder. From there, they left the land of Brittlewambers, and sojourned in the land of the Wishchant, where Freddie rescued Andrew from falling to his death, and acquired a new scar burned into his hand similar in shape to Andrew's own peculiar marks. Not long after that, they faced Inkgryphons, and were rescued by the book hermit Kesper. They were welcomed into his vast library, where Andrew was given a letter only to be opened when he found himself utterly alone.

  Oh, and I forgot to mention, Croffin then found a special, mysterious book called, Weeds, where he received special messages that made him do naughty things, and eventually led Andrew and Freddie into The Lacid Grove, where they were separated from their horses. Then, in The Shade's forest, after a terrible struggle, Andrew defeated The Shade's trees, and Freddie and he sought shelter under the new, beautiful, white, good trees Andrew planted.

  So now, Andrew and the others are out there, somewhere, I hope, trying to do what I know I cannot.

  Last but, yes, least, I, me, a Twisker, was commissioned to ring the Bell of Conroy, to awaken hope in the hearts of the hopeless. Perhaps when I ring it, I myself will not feel so hopeless and helpless as I do now. I will help summon 500,000 people, by ringing the bell, if there be that many in this dreary world left who desire truth and freedom. And if there are such people to be found, we will unite, and raise our battle cry of truth, a sound that has not been heard for many years. We will put an end to the darkness, and The Fallen will no longer reign, nor darkness consume us.

  So, that is where we are, at this starting of this book---everything, discombobled, and askew, with darkness in every shape and form breathing down our necks, threatening to devour us.

  I have been told that this book could stand alone without the other three books to hold it up. It very well may be true. I think so, as well, because this book is all about standing alone, and also together---of being able to hold on, and hold together even when alone.

  It is a book all itself, with its own soul, and if you choose to read on, I hope you do not get lost amongst its lengthy pages.

  Alone, I set out to do my very best.

  That is all any one Twisker can do.

  Try. And that is all. If I die trying, then it will be no less than what my friends have done before me.

  Yours Sincerely,

  Gogindy, The badest, worstest, horriblest Twisker The Dandelion Den ever produced.

  Twisker Proverb

  Only In the womb of Darkness, in the chrysalis of night, in the clutches of adversity, can great light be born.

  Chapter One

  Summons

  The morning was cold, with hints of frost coating the ground, desperately trying to glitter as if trying to light up a world that was growing darker. The sky that was normally a crisp blue, was a hazy brownish-gray. The shadow that had fallen over the earth was growing thicker, day by day, especially over Danspire.

  Morack’s constant lies had accumulated so much that it polluted the air so that everything was obscure and gray. The lies and darkness that came from his lips grew and spread out over the land, causing very little to go untouched. The burnt platform on which Lancedon and Sterling had been placed, only the day before, had been consumed by flames. The only things left standing were blackened posts and chains.


  Morack stood in the midst of the ashes, his long black velvet cape dragging on the ground as he moved through the remnants of Lancedon’s execution, unaware that his beautiful cloth adornments were getting soiled. He stopped and smiled. His smile grew wider and wider. Hardly able to contain his triumph, he started laughing fiendishly. Gasping for air, he sniffed, trying to gain composure. Yet he could not contain himself. Still chuckling, he bent down and fingered the ashes, letting them sift through his fingers, like dark sand. He watched the ashes fall with a contented kind of satisfaction. Lancedon was finally ground down to powder, to the sand between his fingers, tossed by the wind.

  “Not so important now!” he cried, stomping the ashes with the fervor of a child throwing a temper tantrum. The ashes flew up around him in a cloud, coating his face and clothes in a thick layer. He sighed, watching the ashes settle around him. He always knew that it was his destiny to reign over Danspire’s people, to herald in the age of shadow, where day and night wed, bound together in the eternal union of gray, and welcomed him with open arms. Evening was coming, and with it, something more powerful than anything the world had ever known.

  The happy king picked up another handful of ash, rubbing the coarse grains between his thumb and forefinger. “I have finally contained you, Lancedon.” He dropped the dust, then bent down and filled a glass container with the ash. He stared at the ashes in the glass with morbid delight. “Come, Lancedon. I have so much to show you.”

  He pocketed the glass, turned from the scene of his nephew’s execution, and made his way back to the castle. Once there, he waltzed through the spacious rooms and into his own gaudy chamber, still gloating in his victory. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped behind a lavish tapestry, and through a hidden door. He glided through the secret hallway and into a private room lined completely in mirrors, floor to ceiling.