The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (19 page)

After he stopped laughing his face became
very solemn and he spoke very softly. “Now, Soundwave, must teel ya
a secret.” He paused. “I knowed ya. Knowed who ya are. Both of ya.
Soundwave hears all things on the water. I heard the vibration of
dat chest ya carry with ya. Those muffled, pleading, sad sounds
have reached my ears. Those sounds came across the water and told
me how heavy twas for ya to carry dem.”

“Really?” Andrew asked. “How is that
possible?”

“It’s my job to hear. I hears all the waves,
the tide coming in and out, the fishes, the music of the sea; and
its secrets are mine. Sound travels through water like fishes.” He
smiled, leaned over the side of the boat, placed his finger into
the water and closed his eyes, listening. “Aw. Dis I know. Dis I
know.” He quickly drew his finger out of the water, just as a hyena
fish nearly snapped it off.

Just as quickly, Soundwave grabbed his spear
and jabbed at the fish until it swam away. “Be gone ye beasty
devils!”

He scowled at the retreating fish and turned
back to Andrew and Ivory. “Out of all the fishes in the
Pipe-whistle sea, the hyena fish is the most wicked. I can hear dem
louder than any fish.” Soundwave laughed, and leaned on an ore,
letting the waves toss the boat back and forth. “The sea is full of
sounds. So full of beautiful musics. Sometimes it is full of
sorrow, or anger, or peace. No sound is ever lost on the sea. Dat
is why it is so very noisy all the time, crashing onto the rocks
and roaring. It wants to be heard, but only few listen to what it
has to say. Poor sea, not many men are good listeners. But I hear
it. Oh the things I wish I could tell ya, if only ya could hear her
yerselves”

“What kind of things do you hear?” Ivory
asked, her eyes filling with wonder.

“Dat depends on what ya are listening for.
Today, I was listening for ya both. I was listening to the subdued
pleadings of the sounds in Andrew’s chest. So, I says to meself,
I’s got to help those sounds get free. I’s got to help dat boy move
dat chest faster. Da unsaid things gots to be freed, gots to be
heard. Then, I knowed what to do. So here I am.” Soundwave licked
his big lips. He put on a mysterious face, and lifted a long,
purple glass bottle, filled with a swirling mist, with a cork in
its top. He held the glass up to the sky, gazing at it with
pleasure. “I do believe these sounds belong to ya.” He gazed into
the sky with his hands drawn out as if in prayer. “Soundwave not
only hears the sounds of the sea, he can turn things into sound.
And I have something of yah’s, inside this bottle, dat I believe.
Something ya have been looking for.”

“I don’t think you would have anything that
belongs to me in that bottle of yours,” Andrew retorted.

“Oh, but I do.”

“What?”

“Yah horses. At least two of dem. And a small
cart in which ya can more easily pull dat chest of yah’s.”

Andrew’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t understand.
Our horses are in that tiny bottle? That’s impossible.”

Soundwave nodded. “Dat is dem.” He pointed to
two delicate wisps of sparkling, brown mist floating inside the
jar. “Do ya not see dem?”

“There’s no way our horses are in that
jar!”

“Humph. Dat’s what ya tink. But Soundwave
knows better. MUCH BETTER.”

Andrew squinted, staring at the jar with hard
eyes. “The last time I saw our horses, it was in the Lacid Grove.
They were separated from us. We never saw them from that time on.
How could you have them, much less fit them in that bottle?”

Soundwave closed his eyes and nodded. “Ah,
but I heard their sounds, yar horses’ talk, and I heard dem. Some
farmer found dem, caught dem, forced dem to cart loads of
bricks. I found dem. And turned dem into sound,
cart and all. And day are safe. I told dem I would bring dem to
ya.”

Andrew stared at the bottle, truly mystified.
“You mean to say that you can keep sounds, or turn sounds into
those things, those jellyfish, to keep in a bottle, like a can of
peaches?”

Soundwave looked hurt. “Jellyfish? Peaches?
No. They are SOUNDS. Very safe—and SOUND. Very beautiful too. Once
we get to land, I will release dem and fine they will be. Look, see
how beautiful they are as sounds, before they are changed
back.”

Andrew stared into the jar, feeling, both
sickened and awed by what Soundwave had done. Inside the glass he
could see wispy outlines of his horse, Oragino and Freddie’s horse,
Starfire. They were small, and barely visible. It was like holding
a prism to the sun, catching glimpses of prancing rainbows and
color.

“See,” Soundwave said. “Most beautiful. Very
safe too. Horses won’t sink a boat this way.”

Andrew clung to the sides of the boat as a
huge wave splashed over them.

“Hold on!” Soundwave cried, steering the boat
over the turbulent crashing of the waves. “I’ll keep her steady.
Just keep yahselves in the boat!”

Andrew’s stomach churned as the waves caught
the boat, and another wave crashed over them. He closed his eyes,
holding tightly onto the boat trying to shut out the terrible
storm. Above the roar of the waves, Soundwave’s booming voice
flowed over the water in a commanding melody.

“Sogwasheeesea,” his thick voice belted out
with all the passion he could put into his voice, splashing the oar
into the water, struggling to keep the boat afloat. “Remade,
remade, remade, sounding sea, sea, sea. Sogwong, rewood, randodot.
Dodot, dee. Swish, swashoo, swishoo swashoo, seaweed stew.”

As far as Andrew could tell, Soundwave’s song
seemed like a bunch of nothing words, really. But when someone
sings about something that isn’t really anything, with great
passion, it sounds like something even when it isn’t anything.

“We’re going to sink!” Ivory wailed, as
another wave crashed over them.

Soundwave stood against the waves. “No, we
won’t sink! Tis a bad storm. But I’ve been through worse. We get ya
to the shore. We will. This storm may be strong. But my voice is
stronger. But talk to me as I row. I do want to know what ya
favorite sound is. It will take ya mind off the fear of the
water.”

“You want to know our favorite sounds at a
time like this?” Andrew gasped, whipping a spray of water out of
his face.

“YES!” Soundwave’s voice boomed. “Now tell
me. First, Ivory, then you.”

Ivory let out a loud sigh, and wiped water
from her face. “Oh, I don’t know…doves calling, Andrew’s voice, the
crackling of a warm fire. Those types of things.”

“Ah,” Soundwave nodded. “Those are very good
sounds. What about ya, boy?”

Andrew shook his head, shivering. “Uh…I guess
the sound of home. My father’s voice. That is a sound I long for.
The singing of my mother, the birds in the trees, the calm, the
peace.”

Soundwave nodded. “Ah the sounds of home are
sweet. I know of this. But these sounds are always with ya Andrew.
Home is inside ya heart. Listen above the roar of the waves, above
the storm, above everything, it is there, quietly speaking to ya,
in a crowded throng, or alone. Tis there. Do ya hear it even now?
Home is inside ya. Always, there is a safe place inside ya. The
calm, the laughter. Dat is where ya will find peace, even on
troubled seas. Those ya love are always with ya. With each beat of
ya heart, dey’s always there. Listen. Ya can hear dem. Dey say
always saying dem nice tings, always making ya feel better.”

“I wish I could hear as good as you do,”
Andrew shouted above the crashing waves. “Because I can’t hear it!
Doesn’t feel like home is in my heart. Feels more like an ole’
hovel. A couple of sticks stacked on top of one another, with a few
weathered boards and rusty nails holding it together---with a leaky
roof, to boot. Or like a cold igloo.

Soundwave laughed. “Ah, but those ole igloos
must melt. Ya must listen. Carry the good sounds with ya Andrew.
For the places ya are heading to have very bad sounds dat will try
to drown out all other music. Where ya are going, it’s much dark,
with different light, not warm at all. Dere, it be a very
afrightened place—I tink. Many ugly sounds flow from the dark
brooks, to this sea. Ah, but look,” Soundwave said, straightening
up. “We are almost to shore.”

Andrew squinted, looking through the
tumultuous waves. He couldn’t tell where they were. He couldn’t see
anything but water. For all he knew, they could be much farther out
than in.

“Listen,” Soundwave shouted, putting hand to
his ear. “The Pipe-Whistle sea is singing---SINGING.”

Andrew and Ivory listened, but all they could
hear was the crash of waves.

“Listen harder,” Soundwave told them.

Andrew closed his eyes and listened. Then he
heard it. Above the roar of waves, he could hear a flute-like
sound. It was a soothing sound that trilled with the constant up
and down of the waves, tryill, trrree, trreee, trill, twee, sea,
seaaa, seeee. The music throbbed in rhythm to the sounds of the
sea, and the wind, accompanying it to perfection.

“Storm’s going to get worse,” Soundwave
murmured, smiling as if he liked what he heard. “Pipewhistle sea
always sounds off a louder warning when dem bad storms is a
brewing, to warn those traveling on her. Such a kind sea. Not many
seas alert those who occupy their waters of coming danger.”

As if to reaffirm what Soundwave said, a
great wave rolled over the boat.

Splash!

Andrew coughed, and wiped seawater out of his
eyes. He held onto the side of the boat trying keep from being
thrown out into the water. The wind had picked up considerably and
the sky was black. Soundwave was rowing for all he was worth
against the wind and waves. The fierce wind had taken the fog with
it so that Andrew could see the outline of the shore not far from
where they were. Yet, with the sea rolling and churning, the shore
could have been miles away. The boat seemed to be stuck in the same
place, not moving forward, or backward, only back and forth.

“We almost there,” Soundwave yelled, flashing
Andrew a big grin. He strained against the waves, pushing the oars
through the water like it was thick sand---still smiling. We gonna
get ya two to shore. We is.”

A huge wave rolled over the boat, engulfing
it and nearly drowning the boat's occupants.

Soundwave still rowed, still smiled. “We
gonna get to shore.” He assured them again. “We is!”

Another wave washed over them. Soundwave
still smiled, still rowed on, still remained unmoved, like a strong
tree with deep roots. “Hold on,” he cried, standing tall through
the turbulent tossing of the waves. He closed his eyes and in a
strong voice cried, “Silence!”

The waves and wind became even more
turbulent.

“Silence!” Soundwave thundered, again, louder
this time, smacking an oar against the water in anger. The sound of
his voice rippled over the water, vibrating every wave, every
droplet, every wave, wrinkling out over the ocean, ironing out
every wave, causing it to rest its troubled soul. The tossing boat
ceased. The waves hushed.

All became still.

“Good!” Soundwave nodded, and grinned. He
leaned out over the boat and tickled the water with his fingers.
“Dat’s more like it.”

Without another word, Soundwave quickly rowed
them to shore, with ease, looking very pleased. “We are here,” he
said. “Safe AND SOUND. Like I told ya we’d be.” He pointed at the
sandy beach. “See.”

“I’m a shore fisherman and I shall always
be,” Andrew said stepping out of the boat and helping Ivory out.
“

“Eye, dat ya should be,” Soundwave agreed.
“Life is too much like the sea. Why be tossed around more than
necessary,” Soundwave laughed. “But then, I love to ride the waves.
It is what gives me the most pleasure and joy. I can hear the
soundwaves calling my name even now, tickling my fancy to catch as
many waves as I can. So I must be off. Goodbye, and good luck to
ya.” Soundwave turned and was about to shove his boat back into the
now-calm sea, but he stopped. “Oh, I’m forgetting something.” He
bent down and retrieved the glass jar from the bottom of the boat,
and tossed it to Andrew. “Here. Ya might be wanting this. Uncork
the lid anytime and they will be free. I hope this little boon will
help ya get to where ya need to go, much faster.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said, “for
everything.”

Soundwave smiled at Andrew and shook his
bracelet-covered hand in his direction. “Take care of yahself, both
of ya. I’m afraid dat many frightening sounds await ya both. I
shall be listening in for yar success.”

With that ominous warning, Soundwave rowed
away. Ivory and Andrew watched him go, listening to the sloshing of
his oars as they pushed through the water, until the sound died
out.

“He’s gone,” Andrew said, shivering, staring
down at the glass jar Soundwave had given them.

Yes. He is. Are you going to open it?”

“I don’t know.” Andrew peered though the glass,
watching as the glowing shapes pranced and danced around in the
bottle, like liquid dreams that came and went with the night.