Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  Water exploded and washed over them.

  “I can’t stand water!” Leven yelled.

  “Really?” Clover screamed back, confused. “I think it can be refreshing. Remember when you were on that train with nothing to drink and—”

  Leven’s frantic glance stopped Clover.

  “Oh, this water. I wish that was all we needed to worry about,” Clover yelled, pointing downward. “Do you see that glow beneath us?”

  They were descending so rapidly that Leven could hardly focus on what was below him in the water. More black, jagged peaks were becoming exposed, growing around him like monstrous teeth that were too large to sink their teeth into him. The entire world seemed to be racing up around him. Fishlike creatures were popping and flinging from the water like hot bits of oil that the lake wouldn’t allow to be submerged. Leven could see a faint, swirling, white glow deep beneath him. They were being sucked toward it.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Leven yelled.

  “Gunt,” Clover screamed. “It’s protecting the floor of Foo. And if we get stuck in that, we’re done for.”

  “I hate that stuff!”

  “I don’t know,” Clover said reflectively. “If you age it properly, it can be quite . . .”

  Clover’s voice was drowned out by mammoth fists of water that jutted out around them as they fell. One fist clipped the onick and ripped it out from under Leven, sending the beast hundreds of feet up the tower of water. Leven watched the limp onick until it was too far away to see.

  The entire middle of the lake was now one gigantic pillar that reached miles into the sky.

  Leven flailed in the sinking water, wishing he was going upward like the onick. Water continued to rush out from underneath him, speeding up into the night sky. The largest moon looked concerned, as if the water might actually reach it.

  Leven kicked and fought the strange currents. He looked down as his own body was whipped around and then pinched by the convergence of what felt like two hundred separate currents of water. Leven’s body burned as the pressure increased.

  “Can’t you do anything?” Clover yelled with concern. “Turn your eyes on or something.”

  Leven tried, but he couldn’t get his eyes to ignite. All he could envision was being snagged by the gunt and then crushed to death by the weight of the lake when it finally came back down to rest again.

  “Gunt!” Clover screamed, pointing down from on top of Leven’s bobbing head.

  Leven could clearly see the gunt now. It was moving in fluid ribbons across every bit of the lake’s floor. The ribbons of gunt were made up of millions of tiny, tadpole-looking, white, wriggling blobs.

  “Babies?” Clover complained. “They’re the stickiest.”

  A small dab of gunt shot up and adhered to Leven’s robe. Leven struggled to pull the wet material off over his head. Clover tugged on the hood and helped him extract himself. The robe was whisked away, and instantly thousands of gunt tadpoles attacked it, smothering the robe and forming a big wad of gunt that began to sink. Another wad hit Leven in the chest, flipping Leven over so that he was falling with the water head first. As water filled his lungs, Leven struggled to pull off his shirt. It ripped at the side and was sucked off by one of the hundreds of currents. Leven flipped back over, kicking and spitting at the water.

  “We’re doomed,” Clover cried.

  “You mean I’m doomed,” Leven yelled. “This isn’t how sycophants die.”

  “True,” Clover said, desperately clinging to Leven’s head. “But I think I would rather be dead than trapped down here forever.”

  A huge wad of gunt smacked Leven’s pants right above the left knee.

  “Great,” Leven moaned. “I’m running out of clothes.”

  As Leven spoke, the running water suddenly came to a complete stop. All fish and objects still hanging in the air dropped into the few feet of water covering the bottom of the lake. Thanks to the moonlight, the gunt was visible and massive, spread across the entire lake floor like a celestial blanket.

  “What’s happening?” Clover questioned.

  The tower of water above the lake stiffened and stilled itself. The hulking column of water groaned, and Leven could see the top half of it start to arch and bend downward. Leven witnessed lights and sparks drifting off the tip of what was at least a million gallons of water. Fully arched, the tower of water began to race down.

  It was an odd moment.

  The water where Leven now bobbed was relatively still. The gunt tadpoles were swimming a few feet beneath him, but they were leaving him alone. Since the water had ceased racing upward, Leven and Clover had stopped dropping downward. In fact, things might have seemed sort of peaceful if it had not been for the deafening sound of millions of gallons of water roaring toward them.

  The falling water was close enough that Leven could see the foremost tip of it. The dark form was gone; all that could be seen were the hundreds of frosty faces belonging to the Waves.

  The entire body of water moaned.

  The snaking tower of water twisted again and slammed horizontally into the lake’s wall. The force and power drove a gigantic hole deep into the soil.

  “They’re creating a tunnel,” Clover yelled.

  The lake water still hovering above relaxed and dropped back down into the lake, as if the sky were emptying large vats of liquid. The plunging water sent Leven and Clover blasting sideways. They twisted and turned, pulled by the tug of the water rushing through the newly created cavern. Leven spun upside down as he raced toward the tunnel.

  Leven couldn’t breathe, his lungs were filled with liquid, and he had no idea which end was up. His chest rocked as he tried to expel water. He couldn’t see Clover, and his eyes refused to show him anything. He wanted to scream for Geth or Winter, but he couldn’t.

  Water filled the lake with such force that Leven felt certain his entire body would burst under the pressure of it.

  He reached for anything solid, but there was nothing.

  His head became heavy with thoughts of dying. He could see Winter, giftless and lying as if dead upon the ground. He saw Geth as a toothpick, small and weak. He saw Clover tugging on his arm, trying desperately to pull him up. He saw himself being pushed into the newly carved tunnel deep beneath the soil of Foo.

  Leven blacked out, and the Waves pulled him deeper still.

  Chapter Six

  Very Bold

  Most people take certain things for granted. I know I do. Sometimes the things we take for granted are small and almost unnoticeable. Sometimes they’re quite large and obvious. It’s tricky, and it depends upon the state of mind you are in at the moment.

  Say you needed transportation to get to work to support your family. Chances are, you’d be grateful to be given a new car. In fact, there would probably even be some clapping and cheering on your part.

  But what if you had received a brand-new car every birthday since you were born, as well as every half-birthday, and every special occasion? What if your yard was littered with cars? What if you had cars up in your trees and crammed in every room of your house? What if you had cars parked at your neighbor’s house, using up your neighbor’s space, and lined up along the street, making the road harder to drive down?

  If so, you would probably take cars for granted.

  A car is a big thing, but what about the small, almost intangible things we take for granted? Take breathing, for example. It’s been said that although people enjoy breathing, most of us don’t send our lungs a card thanking them for all the hard work they do. Of course, a person who was buried under a lake gasping for air would probably think back fondly on breathing.

  Unlike Leven, Janet didn’t miss breathing. She missed being. She was nothing but a whisp—a weightless, insubstantial trace of her former self. She had done little since she had arrived in Foo besides weep unreal tears and moan. She had first been found by Leven and Clover, but she had switched company when she had met a band of echoes.

&
nbsp; Janet didn’t feel much better about her present company.

  The echoes were quiet and gentle in their movement, but frightening in appearance. They had long hair and ears that stuck out like horns from the sides of their heads. They were born in the reflection of the setting suns against the walls of Fissure Gorge, their existence brought about by the steam and air. They wore no clothes, but their bodies seemed covered by the reflection of whatever they were standing near—and every once in a while, bits and patches of their beings ignited on fire.

  Once, when the tallest echo, Osck, had become concerned, Janet had actually seen his heart burn within his chest. She could see fiery threads of flame race through his veins and up into his head, where they seemed to set his brain ablaze.

  The echoes didn’t pay much attention to Janet, but now and then Osck would motion for her to follow them.

  Their journey had been rough and dangerous. They were making their way up through Foo, following the Hard Border. Every time Janet looked up, she could see no end to how high the Hard Border actually went. It appeared to be a solid wall of rock that stretched forever before, behind, and above them. Occasionally stones would drop, and the echoes would cover themselves with rounded wooden shields and hope not to be crushed to death.

  The trip for Janet wasn’t quite as treacherous. The only good thing about her condition was the fact that lifting each leg was nowhere near the task it had been in Reality. Also, any falling stones passed right through her like wind.

  Janet was with a group of around eighty echoes who were making their way to the Pillars of Rant to gather with the troops. They had been moving as a pack for almost a week now.

  Osck motioned for them to stop.

  Instantly the echoes spread out, bouncing off boulders and trees, looking for a spot to rest. Some began to eat; others settled in for naps. Some faced the sun with open mouths, hoping to heat their souls.

  Janet remained standing.

  The wall of the Hard Border was only about fifty feet away, and on her other side was the edge of the Swollen Forest. She was standing in a field of boulders created from rocks that had once been miles up. Most of the echoes chose to rest on the edge of the forest beneath trees that had not already been pummeled by stones.

  Janet stayed standing in the center of the field. She thought she must be very hungry, but she knew from trying that not only could she not digest food, she couldn’t even lift it to her mouth. She was nothing but an image with impulses and appetites she could no longer fill. She stood there forlorn, wishing she were anyone and anywhere else.

  “What are you?” a voice asked, interrupting her self-pity.

  Janet looked around, confused.

  “What are you?” it asked again, sounding as if it were coming from the ground.

  “Excuse me?” Janet snipped, still not sure who she was talking to.

  “You look thin,” the voice said.

  Janet put her hand up over her mouth; no one had ever called her thin before.

  “There’s nothing to you,” the voice said. “Nothing at all.”

  Janet’s jaw dropped. A large boulder near her right leg was talking to her.

  “You’re a rock,” she said in amazement.

  “A boulder,” it corrected.

  Janet looked around, wondering if anyone else was watching. She could see a few echoes under trees eating. No one seemed the least bit interested in what she was doing or what she was talking to.

  The boulder looked no different from those in Reality. It was about two feet wide, with thin cracks running up and around it. There was a round indentation on top. It was speaking from one of its larger cracks.

  “You can talk?” she asked in disbelief.

  “What are you?” the boulder asked a third time, ignoring her question.

  “They say I’m a whisp,” she answered. “I’m not from here.”

  “Me neither,” the boulder said sadly.

  Janet laughed at the absurdity of everything happening around her.

  “What’s that?” the boulder questioned.

  “What’s what?” Janet asked.

  “The noise your non-head is making.”

  “Laughter?” Janet tried.

  “I’m asking you,” the boulder said impatiently.

  “I’m laughing,” she said.

  “It doesn’t look good,” the boulder said. “It makes your non-face look odd.”

  Janet stopped laughing. She wasn’t used to being insulted by rocks. “What would you know?” she said coldly. “You’re a rock.”

  “I know of the echoes,” the boulder replied. “I have seen thousands of them pass this way heading to where the rants gather. Why is a whisp traveling with them?”

  “I have nobody,” Janet admitted.

  “You could associate with worse,” the boulder groaned. “Echoes are gentle enough, but if you make them mad they can burn quite hot. I’ve seen one set a fantrum tree on fire just by looking at it.”

  “They can’t really harm me,” Janet said. “Although I’m not sure it wouldn’t be that much better to just burn up.”

  “Hard to say,” the boulder creaked. “Where are you from, anyway?”

  Janet was quiet for a moment. The simple question seemed heavy to her.

  “Reality,” she finally answered.

  “Fascinating,” the boulder remarked. “Was Reality good?”

  “No,” Janet said quickly. “But it made sense.”

  “Miserable but organized.”

  “No, I wasn’t organized.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the boulder said. “I don’t really even know what that word means. I just heard someone say it once.”

  “So where are you from?” Janet asked.

  “Up there,” the boulder said. “If I could, I would point, but I can’t, so just look up.”

  Janet looked up.

  “I once sat above it all on the top of the Hard Border,” the boulder said dramatically. “I could see everything. The only things higher than me were the shale.”

  “Shale?”

  “Most people don’t even know they exist, but they protect the Sky Border. They’re nimble like birds, but if needed they can form an impenetrable lid on any part of Foo. We were always trying to grow up above them when they weren’t looking—you know, trying to trick them—but they stopped every attempt. I was knocked down a couple of months ago as I tried to reach up above them. Now look at me. I was lucky enough to fall directly onto someone. That being’s life and accidental death gave me the temporary ability to speak.”

  Janet looked at the base of the boulder, searching for signs of someone who had been flattened.

  “The rovens took the bones weeks ago,” the boulder said sharply.

  Janet stared at the stone. There was nothing reflective in its material, but she could see herself in the fallen boulder. There, like a full-colored ad, was the image of her life. She could see her house in Reality and the couch she spent most of her time on. She could see her wide, square face and her ratty hair and the person she had never wanted to be. She could see her miserable past and the hatred her heart had taken on the moment her child’s father had left her. She could see Winter, and she could see the cruelty with which she had raised the girl.

  Janet’s heart made an audible noise as it softened and crumbled just a bit.

  “Why would you want to go higher?” she asked quietly, pulling her mind back to the conversation at hand. “You were at the top.”

  “There is always more,” the boulder said reflectively. “I guess I’d rather fall while reaching than decay while just sitting still.”

  Janet looked down at the boulder. “You’re sitting still now,” she pointed out.

  “I suppose you’re right, but it was one spectacular fall. Now, do you mind rolling me over just a bit? I would love to feel the sun on my backside.”

  “I can’t move anything,” she pointed out.

  “Oh,” the boulder sighed. “Well, could you
at least pretend?”

  Janet bent down and grunted as if pushing the stone.

  “You’re a pretty good actor,” the boulder remarked.

  “So, are these other rocks family?” Janet asked, looking around at all the other scattered stones.

  “Some I knew, but most have hardened to a lifeless existence. Some have withered under the wear of nature. We boulders don’t last forever down here.”

  “It sounds like you were foolish to reach.”

  “Yes, but just think if I had made it.”

  Janet could hear Osck speaking in the trees. His voice sounded like the crackle of a strong fire.

  “We’ll settle here for a few hours,” he said. “Sleep in the shade of the trees. You will need all the rest you can store up. This will not be an easy war.”

  “War?” Janet whispered.

  “All things come to war,” the boulder said sadly. “Rants will never be completely happy here. I guess, in a way, they’re just reaching.”

  Janet shivered. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Burying your head can be quite satisfying. There are times when I wish someone would just toss a couple of spades full of soil over me.”

  “I don’t want to bury my head,” Janet snapped. “I’ve just heard enough unsettling things for now.”

  “Nothing’s as bad as it’s reported,” the boulder insisted. “All news is more sinister in its delivery than its action.”

  “I’m not talking about news,” Janet said sadly, annoyed by the knowledgeable stone. “I can do nothing about a war. I’m talking about what I’ve learned about myself.”

  The boulder had the presence of stone to stay silent.

  Janet sighed.

  She looked up at the Hard Border and tried to imagine falling from the top. She wiped her eyes and realized once again that she really wasn’t all there. She knelt down and positioned herself so as to lean against the boulder. She had no substance, but her being seemed to remember things like the positions of sitting and lying.