Chapter Twelve
The Living Paintbrush
Andrew opened his eyes slowly and yawned. The morning sun filtered down through the forest of Lizick trees he had created. They looked frightening, and more gargoyle-like than anything. Their orange leaves glowed against the cloudy sky, their woody trunks gave off a blue sheen that was not altogether friendly.
He sat up and groaned. His arms and hands felt extremely sore. The forest looked like it went on for miles. It was terribly sinister, and eerie. The tree' roots sunk into concourses of sand dunes, as if trying to hold the sand in place.
Ivory peered at Andrew from behind a tree, and pushed back a lock of curly red hair behind her pointed ears. “You’re awake.”
Andrew blinked, wondering if he was seeing clearly. “Ivory?”
She stepped into full view, and nodded. “Yes. It’s me.”
“But, where did you come from?”
“It’s a long story.”
“No,” Freddie said, jumping off a nearby Lizick tree, with Talic, landing beside Andrew and Ivory. "It's not that long."
“Freddie's right,” Talic agreed, following closely behind his friends. “It’s an incredibly short story. Rhapsody rescued us. He melted some sand into a castle, and then we came here and watched you turn those lizards into trees. The end."
Andrew looked very confused. "What? Huh? Who's Rhapsody?"
A burst of wind suddenly came up, swirling a cloud of sand into the air. “I am Rhapsody." Rhapsody appeared from the cloud of sand, looking fierce, and stern. The old man held his beautiful glass staff by his side, and his flowing cape flapped gracefully in the wind.
Andrew couldn’t help but stare in awe at Rhapsody. He looked incredibly tall and sturdy like a strong tree that had lived long and seen much. He had a youngish, yet old-looking face, a long orange curly beard, and a good many smile lines etched into his face. He projected a feeling of authority that was commanding and austere. Rhapsody bent down so that he could be on eye level with Andrew. "And you are Andrew, I believe, bearer of light and truth."
Andrew’s eyes grew wide. "How do you...?"
Rhapsody reached within his cloak, brought out Andrew’s sword, wrapped in a purple cloth. “This is yours I believe,” Rhapsody said, "a vessel, a lantern of light that you will use with courage, to reawaken a world very depleted of both light and truth."
Andrew looked at Rhapsody earnestly. “You know?"
"How could I not know, after all, the sword speaks only truth."
"But how did you find me?"
"The stars tell me many things."
"Do they know where I am to find Lancedon?"
"Ah, Lancedon. I've been looking for him too. The stars know where he is, I'm sure. We will follow them, but we will find Lancedon if we are meant to find him, if we are ready to find him."
"When will we be ready to find him?"
"When we are ready," Rhapsody insisted. "That is when."
Andrew narrowed his eyes, and stared just below Rhapsody's feet where something poked up from the sand.
"What are you staring at?" Rhapsody asked.
Without answering, Andrew bent down and gently unearthed the object from the sand, holding it aloft for all to see. It was a silver-handled paintbrush, with a soft yellow bristles of foxtail, and little jewels spiraling up its handle.
“It's beautiful,” Andrew said, mesmerized by the curious object.
“Here, let me see it,” Rhapsody said, taking the brush from Andrew, and inspecting it carefully. “Ah, how very curious. It is a living paintbrush. Very rare. It's funny I didn't find it first.”
“A living paintbrush?” Andrew repeated.
Rhapsody nodded. “Yes. It’s something much more valuable than you can imagine. I know of only a few people who are lucky enough to possess such a treasure. There must be a very important reason you found this here, now.”
"And what reason is that?" Andrew asked.
"That," Rhapsody said, as he the paintbrush back to Andrew, "is a reason as broad and as vast as the canvas on which you now paint.”
"What does that mean?"
Rhapsody smiled, and nodded to the sun. "It means, the day awaits us. There is much we all must do before the sun sets. We must be gone from this place, and paint our day before someone paints it for us."