Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  The field ran into a thick stretch of fantrum trees. Once through the trees, Rast and Reed arrived at the edge of a great chasm. Hundreds of feet down, at the bottom of the chasm, the orange water of the Glint River was running strongly.

  The Glint River divided most of Sycophant Run from a small portion near the Hard Border. The chasm between the two sides was about a third as large as Fissure Gorge and was rumored to have once been a part of that gorge during the creation of Foo. The walls rising up from the river were covered with ivy and squirming, shifting moss. The moss moved up and down the walls in waves.

  Glint Chasm was a beautiful, spectacular, dangerous place that most sycophants never traveled to—and if they did, they rarely, if ever, made it past the point where Reed and Rast now stood.

  “I haven’t been out here for years,” Rast said.

  “It feels like the edge of Foo,” Reed replied seriously. “Except for the fact that we can see the other side. So what now? There’s no complete bridge.”

  “This way,” Rast waved, walking on a thin trail that ran along the edge of the chasm.

  After about two hundred feet the trail stopped. Rast looked to his left, then to his right.

  “Lost?” Reed asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Rast listened to the wind streaming out of the chasm. “There are no birds out.”

  “Should there be?”

  Rast shrugged and stepped off of the trail and into the long grass at the edge of the forest.

  “There it is,” Rast said, relieved.

  “There what is?”

  Rast pointed beyond the grass to a thick tree stump. The stump rose above the soil no more than an inch. The top of the stump was covered with moss. Rast stepped up to it.

  “Shoo,” he waved, motioning the moss to leave.

  The moss hissed and crackled but eventually slid off of the stump and into the grass.

  “I was worried I had brought us to the wrong spot,” Rast said.

  “I was just worried,” Reed halfway joked.

  The rings of the tree could be clearly seen on top of the old stump. Rast counted five rings in and pressed down. The sixth ring sank into the stump about an inch. Rast counted in three rings from that and rubbed the wood.

  The center of the stump popped open and a dank, dirty smell escaped.

  “You first,” Reed insisted.

  Rast smiled and stepped up on the wide tree stump and then down through the open center of it. The opening led to a vertical tunnel with small wooden pegs sticking out of the wall. Rast climbed slowly down the pegs. Reed followed right behind him, closing the stump as he entered.

  It was dark, but a small amount of light came from below them.

  “Is that an opening?” Reed asked.

  Before Rast could answer they had reached the light and dropped down from the wood pegs. They were now in a huge, open cave that looked out into the chasm. The cave was bigger than a large warehouse and its floor was covered with straw and leaves.

  “Who lives here?” Reed asked. “I feel so small.”

  “Birds,” Rast replied. “Really big birds. Here they come.”

  Rast turned to see a gigantic red bird swoop down into the chasm and dive straight for the cave. Reed moved back against the wall. Rast stood up straight, trying not to appear frightened. In comparison to the bird, the two sycophants looked no larger than a couple of worms.

  The bird screamed, and its call echoed forcefully off the stone walls as it drew closer to the cave.

  “Should we be scared?” Reed yelled.

  “I’m trying not to be,” Rast yelled back.

  A second bird with bright yellow feathers trailed the red one. The lead bird landed in the cave, scratching its large talons in the straw as it came to a stop. It turned its big head towards Rast and Reed and looked down its beak.

  It blinked.

  “Well, well, it’s been many years,” the bird said, its voice as big as its size. “We have seen no sycophants near our chasm since Geth and his brother Zale were here with their visitors.”

  The second giant bird fluttered to a stop in the cave. He looked at Rast and Reed and then, as well as a creature with a beak can, he smiled.

  “How fantastic!” the yellow bird exclaimed. “Who knew this day would offer up something as interesting as visitors?”

  “Things have been kept in check,” Rast said. “But now we have need to visit the marsh.”

  “Two sycophants,” the red bird said. “No lithen to guide you.”

  “There aren’t many lithens left,” Rast said sadly. “Can you lift us across?”

  “How sad,” the red bird remarked. “We would be happy to take you across, but we do not tote just any sycophant.”

  Rast lifted his small left hand and showed the birds his palm. There, clearly for the birds to see, was a dark star. Rast moved his hand from high to low, imitating a shooting star. Rast then looked at Reed, and he did the same.

  “Two points of the star,” the yellow bird said. “Very impressive.”

  “Can you take us to the marsh?”

  Both birds nodded respectfully. The red one lifted his right talon and waved Rast over. Rast climbed onto the talon. The red bird closed it, securing Rast inside. Rast looked as if he were in a round cage as the red bird balanced on one foot. Reed stepped up to the yellow bird and climbed into his left talon.

  “Ready?” the red bird asked.

  “Very,” Rast replied.

  “What a bright day,” the yellow bird chirped. “It makes all the difference to have something to do.”

  Both birds screamed and then shot from the cave out over the chasm. Unlike Fissure Gorge, the air in the Glint Chasm was open and clear. The birds dove straight down and spun upward, darting across the chasm.

  The wind howled as the sound of birds screeching and two sycophants laughing it up filled the air.

  Rast would have been happy to ride in the talon of the great red bird forever. The sky was cool and the bird was having some fun with his task—diving up and down and blasting through hazen. Unfortunately, there was no time to spare.

  Rast spotted the short trees on the edge of the marsh. He sighed and then felt his stomach drop as the bird descended. He could see Reed and his bird to the right. The ride had placed a wide smile across Reed’s normally worried lips.

  The two birds skimmed across the top of the short trees and out over the marsh. Hundreds of rivers and inlets ran like spider veins through the vast orange marsh. Rast spotted the circular river and knew the red bird was headed right towards it.

  “I can’t land,” the bird warned loudly. “My talons stick to the mud.”

  “I understand,” Rast yelled back.

  The red bird got as low to the ground as possible, and as soon as he was over the circular section of water he opened his right talon and let Rast fly all by himself.

  Rast splashed into the water with a tremendous “thwap.” He could feel water going up his nose, and his legs and arms burned from rubbing up against the marsh grass. He hit a muddy bank and stuck to the side like a 3-D carving. He opened his eyes and witnessed Reed making his landing.

  “Thwap.”

  Reed bounced on the surface of the water and back up into the air. He screamed and flailed and then splashed down only a few feet from Rast. He struggled in the water trying to find his footing. He crawled up onto a wide, flat rock and shook water from his head and body.

  “Reed,” Rast called.

  Reed looked around, confused. “Where are you?”

  “Right here,” Rast said. “Pasted to this mud bank.”

  Reed kept searching but still couldn’t see him.

  “Talk some more,” Reed suggested.

  “What do you want me to say?” Rast complained. “I’m right here in front of you.”

  “Ahhh,” Reed said, swimming across the few feet of water and up to Rast. “Are you stuck?”

  “Very.”

  Reed clawed at the mud and pu
lled Rast’s right arm free. He pushed his feet up against the muddy wall and yanked. Rast popped off and into Reed’s arms.

  “Thanks,” Rast said awkwardly.

  “I didn’t know they were going to just drop us,” Reed complained.

  “I wanted that to be a surprise.”

  Rast jumped into the water and washed himself off. He climbed out into the thick marsh and tried his best to shake himself dry.

  “Where now?” Reed questioned.

  “That way,” Rast pointed.

  Reed followed closely behind as Rast worked his way to the center of the circular growth.

  “I’m no longer sure this is the best idea,” Reed admitted.

  “No longer sure?” Rast laughed. “You’ve been against it from the start.”

  “Well, I’ve always had well-thought-out opinions,” Reed said seriously. “So what if it’s not there? So what if it is there? What difference does it make?”

  Rast stopped. “I guess I’m hoping it’s been destroyed. The land has shifted, and time has been long. I’m not sure how something so fragile could last.”

  “Good,” Reed said. “It must be ruined. Now let’s go back.”

  “I need to know how it is,” Rast said. “We let the key get away; I won’t be caught off guard by this.”

  “So it’s to protect you from possible embarrassment?” Reed asked incredulously. “We’re treading out here so you won’t have egg on your face?”

  “So we,” Rast said, spreading his arms, “all of us, won’t have egg on our face.”

  “I don’t care if I do,” Reed argued. “In fact, I like eggs.”

  “What have we been taught since our births?” Rast asked.

  “Many things,” Reed replied, frustrated.

  “Since the first sycophant opened its eyes we have been taught that without us Foo will fail. Those are not just words.”

  “Of course not,” Reed agreed.

  “The secret was compromised, and now the Dearth seeks to get out of Foo. I can’t let that happen.”

  “You’re going to break it?” Reed said frantically. “You’re going to break the map?”

  Rast was silent.

  “But that’s . . . I don’t believe it,” Reed said.

  “I said nothing,” Rast whispered.

  “Exactly,” Reed replied. “That’s what scares me the most.”

  Rast began walking again and Reed reluctantly followed. They reached the center of the circular marsh. The grass was so thick it was hard to see anything but orange. Rast moved the grass around until a single stalk that was lighter than the others stood out. Rast grabbed ahold of the stalk. It was coarser and much denser than the other orange grass.

  “That’s it?” Reed asked.

  Rast nodded.

  “Pull it,” Reed suggested.

  Rast gripped the stalk of grass with two fingers and tugged it three times to the right. The grass slipped out like a loose string. The spot where it had been began to unravel in a circular pattern. The marsh twisted and dropped like a large spiral staircase—steps of green growth and solid stone plummeted hundreds of feet.

  The two small sycophants stepped back from the growing opening. The entrance began to expand rapidly, the stairs and steps becoming wide slabs of stone that an army could easily march down. Rast and Reed continued to move away. By the time the opening stopped growing it was the size of a football field, with hundreds of mammoth steps that spiraled downward into darkness.

  Rast and Reed peered over the edge.

  “You first,” Reed insisted.

  Rast smiled and jumped onto the first wide step. He ran across it and jumped down to the next.

  “Are you sure about this?” Reed called out.

  “Positive,” Rast called back, already four more steps down. “Come.”

  Reed moved onto the first stair and, much more gingerly than Rast, jumped down to the second.

  “I’m coming!” Reed yelled.

  Rast was too far down to hear. Reed picked up his pace.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nothing Justifies the End

  Tim Tuttle felt like he was trapped on a deadly roller coaster. The armies of Azure were flowing onto the Meadows and wiping out anything that stood in their way. Hot-air balloons were dropping from the sky as they burned, and lightning and rain exploded everywhere.

  Tim had on a blue robe and held a rusted sword that had been buried in soil for hundreds of years. Osck was up ahead swinging his sword, willing to take out anyone who tried to stop him. Tim, on the other hand, was looking for some way to get out of the operation. Each moment caused him to feel more and more uncertain about his decision to join this side of the fight.

  The blindfolded rant in front of him screamed.

  At first Tim had refused to wear a blindfold. But those around him had gently insisted. He did so, but only after making two small holes in his so that he could see out.

  Janet was running with Tim. She had been unable to keep up with Osck and her face was red and sweaty, but her gaze was solid and determined.

  “This can’t be right,” Tim yelled to her.

  “It has to be,” she shouted back.

  “Why?”

  “Because Osck is an honest man.”

  “Osck isn’t even a man,” Swig pointed out.

  Janet winced. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “He’s right,” Tim yelled. “I think you know it, too. This isn’t our fight.”

  “It will be when they break through to Reality,” she hollered. “We would be forced to fight then.”

  “Maybe so,” Tim shouted. “But this is wrong.”

  “Even if it is, it’s too late now.”

  “It’s never too late,” Tim insisted.

  “I can’t betray Osck,” Janet said.

  “You won’t betray anyone by being just,” Tim said. “Look around—this is wrong. I’m here to help Winter, not to kill people.”

  The basket of a hot-air balloon crashed down directly in front of Tim. Tim flew over it, falling to the ground on his face. He pulled himself up and looked back. Inside the basket was a small man wearing a green robe. The man lay there moaning as hundreds of rants swirled around him. Tim fought the stream of rants and worked himself back to the basket. He knelt down and put his face up to the man’s to listen for life.

  The man breathed weakly.

  “Hold on,” Tim said.

  Tim pulled the man out of the basket and wrapped him around his neck like a gangly shawl. He then ran crosswise against the crowd. Rants batted them around as Tim just tried to get out of the way. A metal spear flew past him and he watched it pierce the ground.

  Tim moved into the space between a large boulder and a fallen tree. He laid the balloonist down and checked for signs of life. Tim slapped him lightly on the face.

  “Come on,” Tim pleaded.

  “You might want to hit him harder,” Swig suggested.

  “Is he alive?” Janet asked.

  Tim turned to find Janet looking down over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” Tim asked.

  “I can’t do this,” Janet admitted. “I must have changed. There are so many dying. What if one of those being cut down is Winter? This isn’t making me whole, it makes me feel even emptier.”

  Tim was silent.

  “Is he alive?” she asked again.

  “He’s still breathing,” Tim said.

  The balloonist groaned and his eyes fluttered open. He screamed as if the moment called for it.

  “It’s all right,” Tim said. “You’re okay.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I work for the Iowa Sanitation Department,” Tim said out of habit.

  “Oh,” the man blinked.

  “Stay with him,” Tim told Janet. “Make sure he’s okay.”

  “No way,” she said. “He’ll be fine. I’m going with you and Swig. I didn’t leave Osck to sit by this man . . . no offense.”
<
br />   “None taken,” the man grunted.

  “When you find Winter I want to be there,” Janet insisted.

  “Okay,” Tim agreed. “We’ll run with the armies, staying to the edge and keeping our eyes open. It’s not much of a plan, but I suppose we’ll test this fate that Foo is always speaking of. It’s probably best that we not admit our lack of allegiance.”

  Tim helped the man get comfortable and then turned to Janet.

  “Ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good, neither am I.”

  Janet actually smiled.

  The two of them and Swig charged out of the hiding spot and back into the river of rants and soldiers surging across the Meadows.

  Tim held his sword in front of him and peered out of the holes in his blindfold. The surge began to slow as all over nits and cogs were giving up. Many of them fell to the ground and were being bound up by soldiers.

  The armies of Azure continued to shoot burning arrows up into the hot-air balloons. Lightning hit one of the four tall trees and split it in half. The tree cracking made the thunder seem like a whisper. All around, Lore Coils exploded as beings suffered and experienced moments of intense fear and tragedy. Tim could hear voices and cries floating across the Meadows in a horrible cacophony.

  “Stay to the side,” Swig kept yelling. “Stay to the side, Tim!”

  Rovens were now landing on the field, herding the surrendering nits and cogs into groups. There were also many wounded and lifeless rants littered about.

  “You’ve got to look like you’re fighting,” Swig said.

  Tim swung his sword around, looking very much like a garbage man pretending to be a pirate.

  Three avalands roared across the path, circling around other nits. Horns began to blast, signaling the fall of Cusp. The armies of Azure were spilling into the streets of Cusp as those in their homes locked their doors and hoped it would all just go away.

  The conquerors destroyed homes, cut the ropes for travel, and ruined anything that might bring the citizens of Cusp comfort. Other soldiers shifted position and began to march towards the gloam.

  “I can’t believe they did it!” Swig yelled. “Cusp has given up without a fight.”

  “I hope Osck is okay,” Janet cried.