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

and smiled. “So, naturally I have to come and
save YOU from the mess you created. It seems you and I have more in
common than I thought. We both are failures---to some degree.”
    The Shade’s voice filled with venom. “The
only thing we have in common is that you are a mere shadow, and I
am the maker. You live only because I help cast you. I have always
been a SHADE, Keeper of Shadows, and I will always be. You are a
keeper of human maggots, because you flatter them with lies. I
create works of art from my own beautiful darkness. You, on the
other hand, are a diluted glass of pig swill, that attracts
flies.”
    Morack’s face contracted in rage. “I am
not!”
    The Shade narrowed his eyes. “Then prove
it.”
    “How?”
    “Do as I have asked. Begin storing food and
water. In a month’s time, release The Drought.”
    Morack held his aching head in his hands. “A
month? There’s no possible way I can get all that done in a
month!”
    “One month!” The Shade repeated. “If you
fail, I will make sure that your own shadow stalks you in the dark,
torments your waking hours, and darkens every path you tread.
Believe me, if you do not do this, I will haunt your dreams and
choke you with your own shadow.”
    Morack’s face looked vacant, and pale. He
swayed back and leaned against the wall. “A month? How is that
humanly possible?”
    “Don’t be a fool!” The Shade thundered. “For
a human it might not be. But for The Fallen, it IS possible. The
Fallen will aid you in this venture. There are many who have
already started securing the necessary stores.”
    Morack nodded, his eyes filling with
understanding. “Ah, I see. Very well then. I will do my best.”
    “Good!” The Shade whispered in Morack’s ear.
“I’ll be sure to tell The Fallen of your continued loyalty.”
    “Yes. You do that.”
    The Shade glared at Morack with sinister
eyes, then turned to leave. “Remember, Morack, that a Shade never
casts threats that he won’t fill.”
    “Ha,” Morack retorted. “And a tyrant, such as
myself, is never threatened by a mere Shadow.”
    The Shade glanced back at Morack, and smiled.
“That’s hard to believe, coming from a man who spends half his time
with his own reflections, and the other half trying to conceal who
he really is. Take care to cast your own devious shadows in the
dark, Morack, or the people might not like what they see.”
    “Same to you,” Morack muttered, watching as
The Shade breathed in a long breath, sucking in the masses of
shadows he had created. The shadows screamed, and cried out as The
Shade inhaled them through his mouth and his nostrils in one long
gulp. A moment of silence fell over the room as the last shadow
vanished.
    The Shade’s gaze fell on Morack. “Remember,”
he hissed, “Remember!” With those sinister words, he slipped away
through a dark corridor as noiselessly as he had appeared.
    Relieved to have his space back, Morack
turned to his shattered reflection in the only remaining piece of
mirror on the wall. He raised his brows, inspecting his bruised
neck, and the blood oozing from a cut in the side of his head. He
squinted, inspecting his nose. Then he smoothed back his disheveled
hair. The fractured reflection made him look much more sinister
than he already did. For some reason it bothered him.
    “Gather supplies. Release The Drought, eh?
Kill Lancedon again? Morack, you handsome devil. Looks like you
have your work cut out for you. Release The Drought. Hmm...”
    Just saying the word, “Drought,” made Morack
thirsty, made his lips feel dry. Once The Drought had been
summoned, once it was called, it could never be recalled, unless
someone with the right kind of power broke it. The Drought would
come and do its work quickly and as quietly as the sun rises and
sets. The thought of releasing a monster with such power over his
lands made him cringe. As much as he liked the thought of more
people coming to him for their needs, he disliked the brown