Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  Leven and Winter crawled as fast as they could to the edge of the cliff and looked over. The beast traveled beautifully through the air, arching past the quarter moon and dropping to burst violently on the hard ground far below. Even with Leven’s poor eyesight he could see the tremendous explosion of dirt and debris of monster.

  Leven rolled over onto his back and tried to catch his breath. Winter sat up and began to assess how many injuries she had.

  “Do you think that killed him?” she asked, pulling dirt and twigs from her hair.

  “Let’s not stick around to find out,” Leven said, getting to his feet.

  Clover materialized and Leven shook his head in amazement.

  “Where were you?” Leven asked.

  Clover ignored the question. “That was impressive,” he glowed. “Only an offing could have pulled that off.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for the help,” Winter complained. “The first sign of trouble and you disappear.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Clover explained. “If the shadows had seen me, we would have been in an even bigger mess.”

  “Do you know what that was all about?” Leven brushed off his knees and his backside.

  “Ah,” Clover waved. “It was just an avaland, and a huge one, I might add. I’m sure Sabine’s shadows set it free.”

  “Sabine’s shadows?” Leven asked. “Is that what I keep seeing? Who’s Sabine?”

  “I can’t say,” Clover insisted.

  “Of course not,” Leven complained.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” Winter sighed, looking toward the black sky. “I don’t like this prairie, it—” Winter stopped mid-sentence. For a moment Leven thought she had seen something else alarming, but she just stared at him.

  “You touched me,” Winter whispered, her eyes big with the realization.

  “I had no choice,” Leven apologized. “You would have been eaten, or buried, or muddied.”

  “Muddied?” Winter smiled slightly.

  “I don’t know what dirt monsters do,” Leven said, flustered, the white streak in his hair bright under the partial moon. “I had to pick you up. Besides, nothing really happened. The air just—”

  “Listen to him,” Clover said admiringly. “Nothing happened. You shot an avaland out of a cliff,” Clover bragged. “Don’t sell yourself short. That was very im—”

  “I was talking about touching Winter,” Leven clarified.

  “Oh,” Clover said.

  “I hope we’re not in too much trouble.” Winter said, looking worried.

  “I guess we’ll find out either way,” Leven added.

  Clover disappeared, and the two of them made their way past the trees down to the river and over to the bridge. They were only just beginning to understand the magnitude and danger of what was ahead. It had been quite a night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Picked Out of a Crowd

  The shadows were not stupid. They were the castoffs of Sabine and his darkness, but they were not without wit and cunning. At the moment they were angry and desperate. They had been looking for Leven for some time and still nothing. Their problem was they were looking for a grown man with a crown and a scepter, not an obscure kid with bad eyesight and a white streak in his hair.

  Okay, they were a little stupid.

  Sabine had not been sleeping well. He could feel the pace of things ratcheting up. He could sense his shadows were close to capturing the prize, but he could not get a clear picture of what that prize was. He had exhaled and bidden his shadows to stop holding back. He had willed them to feel the air, the dirt, and the wind in an effort to discover who they were after.

  They had assembled and descended in full force to do their master’s bidding.

  They had identified a few “persons of interest” whom they felt compelled to investigate—an old man in Germany who had an odd aura, a prince in Saudi Arabia with a look about him, a Canadian with a dark visage who appeared to draw the shadows in, a retired couple in Florida that might have magical powers, a woman in Mexico who was hiding something, and a young boy in Oklahoma who could see shadows. Each of these individuals had aroused Sabine’s suspicions.

  In his evil quest, Sabine instructed his shadows to fall upon each of these persons and observe his or her reaction. The shadows had conjured up avalands and telts as an ordeal for each. Confronted by these apparitions, the German cried, the Arabian cowered, the Canadian fainted, the Florida couple locked themselves in their double-wide and trembled, and the woman in Mexico tried to put a curse on them. Only the young boy in Oklahoma had thought his way through and escaped his ordeal.

  Sabine dismissed them all except the boy. It is not easy to escape an avaland. He doubted Leven was the one only because he was so young, but upon further thought Sabine decided the boy’s age might be the perfect deception. He sent his shadows once more. They spiraled out of Foo, locating the boy as he slept and invading his mind. Sabine could instantly tell that this was the heir of the Gatemaker. Someone or something from Foo had touched this child. That touch had left a mark on the dreams of Leven, which were different from the dreams of any other human. He clearly had a connection to Foo, and he had been touched by a nit.

  Sabine roared. The only possible way for Leven to have been touched by a nit was for one to have made it out of Foo through the gateway.

  Sabine raged and breathed every last shadow down upon the boy as he slept, penetrating Leven’s dreams. They screeched and whispered and hissed, filling Leven’s head with a cavalcade of dark images calculated to convince Leven that he was worthless, without merit, and insane to take even one more step on the journey he had begun.

  “Go home, go home,” the shadows whispered. “Impossible. Impossible,” they hissed.

  Sabine’s dark shadows were more powerful and dangerous than a whole herd of avalands could ever be. All night long Sabine’s demons tormented Leven, filling his brain with frightening images and feelings of inferiority and hopelessness. They ceased afflicting him only when the first hint of light surfaced in the morning and Sabine inhaled, summoning his shadows out of the recesses of Leven’s now-darkened brain and back to Foo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dirty Rotten

  Winter awoke to the sound of Leven tossing and moaning. She had slept under the opposite side of the bridge, where there was more room. Now he was awake. She could see him crawling out from under the bridge and looking around. His hair was a mess and he had a lost and vacant look in his brown eyes—as if someone had stolen his personality as he slept. He had scratches on his arms and face and a big bruise on his left cheek. She looked at herself and observed the nicks and cuts she had suffered in their flight through the trees and in her fall from the beast.

  She sat up. “Where are you going?” she hollered to Leven.

  Leven squinted, looking over at her. “I’m going back.” He pushed his dark bangs away from his face.

  “Back where?” Winter asked, crawling out from under the bridge and assuming he was referring to the diner and the intriguing old man they had met there.

  “To my house,” Leven said dully.

  “To get something?”

  “No, I’m done, Winter.” He looked ashamed. “This is not how it should be,” Leven said. “We have been wandering the streets with nothing to show for it. This isn’t right.”

  “What about last night?”

  “What about last night?” Leven questioned. “Oh, yeah, we almost died,” he added sarcastically. “So you can freeze things and I can see stuff. How do we know that everyone else can’t do those things?” Leven rubbed his forehead and winced as he touched one of his bruises. “I’d trade my gift for the possibility of not ever getting beat up by dirt again.” He shook his head. “We’re fooling ourselves.”

  “It’s different and you know it,” Winter said sadly. “I can feel it, Lev. I found you. You’re supposed to do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked. “I can’t do anything. I’m nothin
g but an orphan who has no family and no friends. I live on a porch because those who know me can’t stand to have me in the house. I got a C in math, a B in English, and a C-plus in science. I am average, unwanted, and of no use to anyone. Now I’m supposed to believe a furry ball . . . ”

  Clover materialized sheepishly on Leven’s shoulder.

  “ . . . when he tells me I can save the world? Come on, Winter, this is crazy.” Leven looked distressed, as if the words he was saying were painful to expel. The shadows had convinced him well. “I wish I were dreaming so I could just wake up and have it all over with. I can’t make this better.”

  “Well, if you leave now you don’t have to worry about ever dreaming again,” Clover said, brushing his forearms.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Leven said, trying not to look directly at Clover.

  “If Foo falls, it’s over for all of us.”

  “Foo?” Leven said, shaking his head. “I don’t believe in Foo. I don’t believe in you,” he said, pointing toward Clover, “and I don’t believe in you,” he said, looking at Winter. “I’m sorry,” Leven added, “I guess I don’t believe in me.”

  “Lev . . .” Winter tried.

  He waved her off. “There is no way the world could be dependent upon me. And if by some chance it is true, then we’re all in big trouble.” Leven turned and began to walk off. He stopped, lifted Clover from his shoulder, and set him on the ground. “Stay here.”

  “I can’t,” Clover said sadly.

  “Don’t you have to do what I say?” Leven asked.

  “In theory,” Clover shrugged.

  “Then I order you or command you or whatever the strongest instruction I can give you is, to stay away from me. Stay with Winter, understand?” Leven said sadly.

  Clover looked hurt and confused.

  Leven was gone.

  ii

  Geth could not believe how bright the sun was. He opened his eyes to find it almost directly overhead, burning like a celestial bonfire. He rubbed his eyes with his left arm and sat up. He could hear birds singing and see people walking in and out of the diner he had escaped from the night before. He shifted in the grass and stood. His entire tiny body ached. His final slam in the door last night had been fate’s most brilliant move. After that impact he was now flexible and much more mobile then he could have ever imagined. He could bend at the waist and even twist his top half to look around.

  He gazed at his single arm and wished for fingers. They didn’t appear instantly, but he felt confident that before too long, fate would hook him up with digits of his own. He also put in a silent plea for another arm.

  Geth moved away from the grass and over to the gutter. An old man hosing down the sidewalk was creating a nice-sized stream of water, and a small piece of paper came floating by. It seemed too fateful for Geth to ignore. He did his part and jumped off the curb and down onto the paper raft.

  He sloshed back and forth as the little scrap of paper danced over small ripples and twisted around a corner. A child crossing the street stepped into the gutter, creating a splash that showered the raft and flooded Geth’s eyes. He wiped away the water and could see a culvert into which the water was flowing at the end of the street.

  Geth lay back on the paper and enjoyed the ride as his little craft swirled through the culvert and bobbed along toward the river. Eventually he got caught up in a tangle of leaves and trash. Geth abandoned his raft and dove into the current, letting it carry him farther. Using his single arm to guide him and kicking his legs, his light little body was swept along in the cool water.

  He imagined he looked quite impressive.

  The culvert eventually emptied out onto a large cement spillway. Geth skimmed along the bottom as the shallow stream of water thinned to a trickle. Twenty more feet and Geth could feel the cement rubbing against his belly. Five feet later the stream of water was so diminished that Geth no longer floated, he dragged. He pulled himself out of the trickle of water and looked into the sun. He shook his legs and wiped off the tip of his head.

  “What now?” he asked himself. He was standing in the bottom of a huge cement cistern with sides too high for him to climb and the sun beating down. A few dark clouds in the distance drifted closer.

  Geth followed the miniscule string of water as it dribbled down toward the end of the waterway.

  “I could use a little help,” Geth said aloud and to nobody in particular. “I mean, I’m all for doing my part, but being a toothpick is not exactly the greatest confidence builder.”

  He reached a metal grate where the trickle of water fell into a deep, dark hole. A big pile of trash had gathered at the opening. Geth climbed to the top of the heap and looked down. After a few seconds of thought he stepped through the grate and blindly jumped into the darkness, anxious to see where fate would take him. He squeezed his legs together, tucked in his arm, and held himself rigid to look more like a traditional toothpick. Down he dropped into the musky, dank-smelling darkness, landing legs first and impaling himself almost body deep in the soft mud at the bottom of the hole. Due to the pressure of the foul smelling muck, he couldn’t move his arm or even wiggle his legs. He couldn’t speak, and he could see only a little bit from his slightly higher right eye.

  Geth was stuck.

  iii

  Winter walked slowly down the road. She had no money, no direction, and no idea what she was going to do. She knew perfectly well that Clover was sitting on her head or clinging to her back or holding onto her leg, so she didn’t feel completely alone, but she did feel completely helpless. To make matters worse, the once-blue sky was quickly filling with clouds.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clover answered, the direction of his voice making it obvious that he was holding onto her leg.

  “You’re supposed to be helping,” Winter said.

  “I’m only supposed to make sure Lev makes it safely to Foo.”

  “Well?” Winter said.

  “Well, this is just a minor setback,” Clover insisted.

  “Minor setback? This is a disaster. How can you return Lev to Foo if you don’t even have him?” Winter’s green eyes burned.

  “It’s not all my fault,” Clover said, still invisible but climbing higher up Winter. “You were assigned to him as well.”

  “What?”

  “You were . . . oh nothing,” Clover said quickly.

  “Show yourself, Clover.”

  “No.”

  “Clover Ernest, you show yourself this instant,” she demanded.

  “No.”

  “Listen, Clover, I am in no mood to goof around,” Winter insisted. She stopped and began turning as if to spot him. “I have come all this way and have had nothing but trouble. Now you’re saying I’m ‘assigned’?”

  “I talk too much,” Clover admitted. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “If we’re going to get Lev back I have got to know what’s going on.” Winter stopped, turning in an attempt to see Clover. She was a bit dizzy.

  Clover materialized on her right shoulder. “I guess it won’t hurt to tell you a few things.”

  “Good. To start with, who am I?”

  “I’m not totally sure,” Clover admitted. “All I know is that Antsel said there would be another to help lead Lev back to Foo.”

  “And that’s me?”

  “I think so.” Clover scratched his head. “It’s obvious from that ice trick you can do that you are a nit. It seems sensible that they would send a nit to help Lev back.”

  “And why’s that?” Winter questioned.

  “Nits are extremely loyal,” Clover explained. “They stay true to their purpose no matter what.”

  Winter was silent as she thought. Dark clouds continued to pile up in the sky.

  “That’s a compliment,” Clover pointed out. “Of course Sabine’s a nit, and, well, he didn’t exactly stay loyal.”

  “So there are others like me?” Winter asked.
<
br />   “Of course,” Clover said. “Thousands.”

  “Thousands,” Winter whispered.

  “Nits are those humans who are born on earth and stumble into Foo by accident,” Clover explained. “As they adapt to Foo they take on a certain and unpredictable trait. You must have liked ice. It’s a popular talent.”

  “So I’ve been to Foo before? I’d think I would remember that.”

  “Let’s just say there’s way more to you than you currently know.”

  Winter smiled. The thought of there being more like her was a revelation. And that she had some special purpose was exciting. “We have got to get Lev back,” she said strongly.

  “Maybe we should find Geth first,” Clover suggested.

  “So who is this Geth?” Winter asked.

  “Well . . . since I already blew the secret,” Clover said, bending over to brush his ankle hair, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” He cleared his throat, then said, “Geth was cursed by Sabine and brought here by Antsel so he would not be destroyed. Last I heard, he was a seed.”

  “But, who is he?”

  “He is the last heir and king to the Order of Wonder. He is also one of the few who knows where the gateway to Foo is.”

  “You came through. Don’t you know the way there?”

  “Antsel kept me hidden,” Clover said. “The fewer who know, the safer it is.”

  “So why does Geth need Lev? Why does he need any of us? Can’t he just go back himself?”

  “Antsel didn’t tell me everything,” Clover said sadly. “I’m just a sycophant. But from what I heard while hiding out on the ceiling and eavesdropping in Antsel’s room all those years ago, Lev is of some major importance as well. I think it has something to do with him being related to someone important.”

  “So we have to find Geth,” Winter said seriously.

  “I’ve been saying that for a week,” Clover pointed out.

  Winter shook her head. “Do you have any idea where he could be?”

  “Well,” Clover said, “he is a king. Are there any castles around here?”

  Winter was highly discouraged.