The Last Summoning---Andrew and the Quest of Orion's Belt (Book Four) (64 page)

As his voice died out, the army burst into a
thunderous roar. The army raised their swords and cried in unison.
“Let it not dim! For freedom, for truth, for hope for a better
future, for a brighter day!”

“Onward!” Lancedon roared. He held his sword
aloft. “It is time! Let us drive out this darkness! The Battle Of
Hope Rises has begun! Fight, willing soldiers. Fight!”

With those words, Coral courageously led
Lancedon’s horse to the front of the army, with Zeechee, and
Sterling riding by their side. “Forward!” Lancedon cried. “Let us
send them back to where they came from!”

His men raised their swords with him, echoing
his call so loudly that the light they gave off intensified,
illuminating their enemy by their brilliant glow.

Coral drove their horse forward onto the
thick, frozen sea. Lancedon’s horse reared back, then as its hooves
hit the ground, a tremor rocked the ground, creating thin cracks
through the black ice. In that instant, it was as if The Fallen’s
army had awakened. A rippling roar of hatred and anger swelled
through The Fallen’s ranks. Woeful drums sounded. Shadows, Sontars,
man, and beast, and thousand upon thousand of shadowy faces turned
towards them. Hate was in their eyes, and weapons of vengeance were
in their hands. They spread out over the ice towards Lancedon’s
army of light, their cries so deafening that the ice cracked and
popped from the sound.

Lancedon’s army surged across the sea of ice
to meet The Fallen’s oncoming army, like a sea of shooting stars
whizzing through the black sky. The army glowed like angels pushing
their way into in the depths of hell.

“For freedom!” Lancedon cried, as they
crashed over the ice towards their enemy. “For light!”

Morack, Vargas and The Shade stood in the mid
of this immeasurable army, wearing helmets that looked like the
trunks of chopped trees, with the roots dripping down over their
faces, as slotted, protective coverings.

Sterling, Zeechee, and a group of men
handpicked by Lancedon, fought around Lancedon and Coral, trying to
keep a small shield of protection around their blind leader.

The ice cracked and groaned as the momentous
weight of both armies marched over it. Sword clashed with sword,
metal against metal. Hoof against ice. Light against dark. The
sight of such bright souls standing before the infinite blackness
was like watching a small brilliant spark surge up into the night,
made all the brighter by the darkness framing it. It was as if the
very darkness on earth was trying to devour celestial bodies that
had united together. This darkness tore through Lancedon’s army,
bringing down men, women, children and soldier, killing the light
it so desperately hated. Many who had struggled to keep their
flickering hope alive, faltered in a moment of fear and let the
light fall from them. They flickered, and then instantly went out
as they died, overpowered by the darkness.

Lancedon’s voice rang out, “Stay strong, men!
Do not let the darkness get hold!”

Coral rode bravely ahead maneuvering
Lancedon’s horse through the masses, while he sat beside her,
bringing sword down on those hindering their way, cutting down the
enemy with inhuman strength. What he lacked in sight he made up
with his other senses. Though he could not see, he could feel the
light from his own men, just as he could feel the darkness
emanating from The Fallen’s soldiers. Thus he did not fear striking
his own men. The contrast between the two armies was stark. The
Fallen’s men were different in every way. They even smelled dark.
In this blackness Lancedon did not feel blind. He could feel the
two energies battling together as if he could see their true form
and hue.

He cut down all that came at him with such
accuracy that no one could possibly take him for a blind man. Every
swipe of his weapon had purpose, and every one he brought down was
that of his enemy. He could hear every clash of the sword, every
footfall, every cry of the dying. These sounds were all magnified
in his ears, and quickly dealt with.

The men who had held onto hope, fought with
double the strength of The Fallen’s men, cutting their way through
the endless onslaught of soldiers and shadows that tried to
overpower them.

All around them The Fallen’s soldiers pulsed,
fighting against the army of light, crammed together in exhaustive
rows, like panthers of eternal night slinking in and out of the
heavy darkness, snatching and consuming the flickering souls that
wavered.

In the deathly dark, it appeared as if angels
and devils had come against one another. Shadows cowered before the
glow of hope. Men and beasts whose hearts had become black fought
with savage cruelty against the great illuminated army that pressed
courageously onward. A loud roar sounded as shadow and fiend pushed
through every empty space, hemming in Lancedon’s army from every
direction.

“Lancedon!” Coral cried, her eyes filling
with fear as The Fallen’s army doubled and tripled in the darkness,
surging upon them, making it almost impossible to move forward.
Shadows tugged at her skirts, trying to pull her from the
horse.

Lancedon held onto her, and let his sword
slice through the sheet of shadows that pressed against them. He
could hear the howls of wolves, of men crying out in pain, arrows
zipping from their strings, and the sound of bones cracking.

“For light!” He cried above the thunderous
clamor of battle. “Keep the light burning within you! Do not
falter!”

Without warning, something hard and rocklike
whizzed through the air and hit Lancedon from behind, knocking him
from his horse.

“Lancedon!” Coral screamed, as he hit the
ice.

He groaned and quickly stood. Swarms of
darkened soldiers pressed around him trying to cut him down.

“Lancedon!” Coral cried out once more. Her
voice was muffled by the shadows that surged in around her.

“Coral!” he shouted, crying out in anger. He
raised his sword, and pushed his way through the masses. Above the
sounds of battle he thought he could hear Coral far off. He pushed
through soldiers, handling his sword far better than any man with
vision. He whirled around, just as a shadowed fiend struck,
swinging a mallet on a chain in one hand, and a sword in the other.
Lancedon caught the mallet with his sword just before it crushed
his head. The chain wrapped around his sword, with a loud clank.
The fiend jerked violently back, yanking Lancedon’s sword from his
hands.

The man laughed, raising the sword, ready to
bring it down upon Lancedon’s neck.

“NO!” Lancedon heard Coral scream.

He heard a twang from Coral’s bow, then a
whizzing sound as it was let go, then a gasp and a thud as the
fiend hit the ground, dead.

“Lancedon!” Coral cried, grabbing him, and
yanking him forward towards his horse. “We must get you back on
your horse.”

Just as they neared the animal, a shrill horn
sounded out of the darkness, so loud and terrible that Lancedon’s
horse to reared back in fear. The horn sounded again, louder and
far more fierce. The ice beneath them cracked and shook. Lancedon’s
horse screamed in terror, and pulled back, disappearing through the
fray.

As the sound of the horn died out, Lancedon
grew vaguely aware of an energy, and a putrid smell far darker than
that of The Fallen’s soldiers. It wafted around him like smoke from
a chimney. The odor was foul, like an innumerable number of
simmering sins, dark deeds, and wicked thoughts. Yet, the smell was
strangely familiar. He tried to pinpoint what it was, but he could
not tell. Its dark smell enveloped him in thoughts that filled him
with doubt, and despair. Accompanied by the smell was a sound of
heavy, nasally breathing, and steady, heavy footfalls.

Lancedon tightened his muscles and stood
ready, trying to mark where this being would strike.

“Lancedon…” Coral gasped, as a tall personage
appeared through the darkness. Silvery gleams of blackness glinted
off the man like an oily fish that had lived off the spawns of
black, glowing maggots his entire life.

“Ah,” the dark voice crooned. “Lancedon? I
thought I might find you here. Back from the dead once again. How
may times can you rise from the dead, before you are truly killed?”
He cleared his throat and motioned to his personal bodyguard. “Men,
make sure no fighting disturbs us while I have one last chat with
my nephew.”

“Morack?” Lancedon growled, anger lacing his
voice. “I thought I could smell you. Nothing, not even this
darkness can hide your horrible stench.”

“I think I smell rather good. This darkness
has done wonders for my complexion, don’t you think? Oh, I forgot.
You can’t see, now can you?”

Lancedon stiffened. “I can see you much
better than you think, Morack.”

“Still so hostile!” Morack gasped. “The time
for hostility is over. We can now be friends, can we not? Darkness
has unified us, finally. Why not embrace it and live? You know you
want to.”

“You know nothing about what I want!” Full of
wrath, Lancedon pushed away from Coral’s staying hand, and took a
blind step ahead, slashing the air with his sword.

“My, my,” Morack laughed, driving his sword
against Lancedon’s. “Fighting blind. Doesn’t seem very
prudent.”

“Aren’t we all blind in this darkness?”

Morack laughed. “No. Just as you said a
moment ago, I can see much better than you think. And in this
darkness there’s no limit to what I can do. Living in the light was
so inconvenient, so hindering. In the darkness one may do as one
wishes. It is truly freeing. Freedom is a philosophy I think you
can agree with.”

“Freedom to do what?” Lancedon shot back,
ducking as Morack swiped his sword at his head. “To subject
everyone to your will?”

“Yes! Now you are finally getting it,” Morack
laughed. “Not so inconvenient as before. Excluding you and your
kind, we were doing quite well. Everyone was behaving as they
should. They had no other choice but to---you know---be
slaves.”

“Oh, such freedom,” Lancedon mocked. “Still
trying to use your tongue to twist everything to fit your little
agenda. You should know better than to do that with me, you
shadow.”

“Shadow?” Morack breathed. “I am so much more
than a shadow.”

“Yes,” Lancedon said, through clenched teeth.
“You are a fallen man. And that is much worse. The shadows you cast
feed off you as you feed off them.”

“Yes,” Morack seethed. “As you will,
soon.”

“I’m finished playing your little word
games!” Lancedon shouted. “Now, tell me, what have you done with my
sister?”

“Your sister? She’s dead.”

“She lives!” Lancedon thundered. “You speak
nothing but lies!” He clenched his jaw, and held his sword tightly.
Anger burned inside him so strongly that he felt like he might
burst into flame and consume everything in his path.

Morack circled around Lancedon, sneering.
“Does it really matter if I’m lying or not? When The Fallen is
finished with you, all of you will be dead. Your sister is but one
in a sea of darkness. Who cares for one soul, when a thousand
others could be had? What is your life, or any lives, for that
matter, in comparison to the magnitude of The Fallen and his
never-ending all-consuming power?”

Lancedon’s face gleamed with disdain. “The
power of one soul, alight with truth and hope, is far more powerful
than your endless sea of blackened armies. You underestimate the
value of life, Morack. You always did.”

“Life? I value life,” Morack retorted.

“Yes, yours only.”

Morack narrowed his eyes, and laughed.
“Again, you have misunderstood me. I value life far more than you
realize. You may accuse me of mingling with shadows, but my
intentions have always been to preserve the human race.”

“There is no human race in this
darkness.”

Morack put a finger up. “Ah, but that is the
point. A new race of men will be born. A better, more powerful race
will rise from these dark ashes, far greater than has ever
been.”

“Men like you?”

“Yes! Exactly. Men like me.”

Lancedon chuckled. “How inspiring. It seems
as if we have much to look forward to.”

“Yes,” Morack hissed. “More than you think.
Now. Enough of this chit chat. Surrender, and The Fallen will be
lenient towards your many men. He will let them live. At least for
a while.”

“Surrender?” Lancedon repeated. “In this
darkness there is no such word.”

Morack sighed. “I already knew you’d say
that. But I had to ask, you know.”

“How kind of you.”

“Kind?” Morack balked. “You should know by
now that I am not kind.”

“No,” Lancedon said, listening to Morack’s
footfalls as they hit against the slippery ice. “I should have
called you a coward. For only a coward comes at a blind man behind
the back with a sword.”

“It is you who come against me.”

“Yes. For once, you are right. I have.
Finally!” Lancedon swung wide, and hit Morack’s sword in a flash of
sparks. He lunged forward, slicing his sword through the air, just
missing Morack’s leg by a fraction of an inch.

“Ah!” Morack panted, coming back at Lancedon
with great vengeance. “You come too close! I will end this
now!”

“No!” Lancedon shouted, catching Morack’s
blade with such force that it caused Morack to stumble back, “I
will.”

“AGGG!” Morack growled. “It seems you fight
much better when you cannot see your enemy. You never fought quite
like this before.”

“That’s because I never had so much to lose
before.”

“But you can’t see me…can you?”

“Oh, I can see you,” Lancedon said. “I could
always see you, even when you thought I couldn’t. I could see
through your tainted lies. Your stench of darkness is stronger than
a rotting carcass. A rotting soul is far more foul than that of a
rotting body.”