by Obert Skye
“Excuse me,” the Dearth said, half smiling. “I don’t understand.”
“Stop it,” Ezra yelled. “You come here with your accent and sweater and mustache and figure that all these dolts are going to just gobble you up. Well, they might, but I’m not.”
Ezra leapt across the room and landed on the Dearth’s nose. He pulled and pulled, as if the Dearth’s face were a mask and he was about to expose it.
“Ah-ha!” Ezra screamed while pulling.
The Dearth patted Ezra away, and the tiny toothpick flew across the room and landed in front of Dennis’s right foot. Ezra stood up on the ground and turned back to look at the Dearth.
“That was a dumb move, older man,” Ezra seethed.
The small, angry toothpick stood still. He closed his single eye and raised his hands as if marshalling his power. Then he waved his arms and opened his eye. A tiny wave of light radiated from it, expanding rapidly as it moved up and across the room. The wriggling glow reached the Dearth’s head and washed over him.
The Dearth began to cough and sputter. He bent over, grasping at his own stomach in pain. As he looked back up, his once-friendly face began to melt away. His eyes dripped down onto his cheeks, his nose melted to his chin, and his ears slid down the side of his neck.
“What the . . .” General Lank said, backing up.
A black ooze ran down his forehead, but when the Dearth reached up to try to make things right, all he managed to do was to get his chin stuck to his hand. He pulled his chin away.
Five seconds later there was no sign of the kind elderly gentleman. There was nothing but a huge pile of black that was writhing and stretching. The Dearth opened his large, sticky mouth and screamed.
“Shoot it!” General Lank said.
The six guards pulled their pistols and immediately began to unload into the Dearth. The bullets shot into the dark tar but did no damage. The Dearth just laughed.
“Smother him!” Ezra yelled.
Two of the guards jumped onto the Dearth. One tried to choke him at the neck while the other wrapped his arms around the back of the Dearth and squeezed.
The Dearth shook, and hundreds of thin strings of sticky black shot out from him and wrapped around the two unlucky guards. The Dearth then began to sink down into the soil beneath him.
“Stop him,” General Lank yelled. “Stop him!”
“How?” one of the guards screamed back.
The Dearth sank even lower into the dirt floor, dragging the two soldiers with him. Ezra shot off from the floor and pierced the Dearth’s torso. He flew out the back of the Dearth and slammed up against the far wall.
Dennis stood up, watching helplessly with the others as the Dearth disappeared beneath the soil with the two soldiers. Everyone just stood there dumbfounded. Suddenly, a thick root of rubbery blackness shot up like a snake. It flew across the room and jabbed itself into Elton’s stomach. The blackness took a bite into Elton’s belly, shook, and then retracted into the soil. Elton clutched his stomach and fell to the ground moaning.
General Lank grabbed a phone as two soldiers ran to Elton’s side.
“I told you so,” Ezra seethed.
“Yes, sir,” General Lank said to someone on the phone. “No, we have a real problem. Really?”
Ezra jumped back to Dennis and took a few moments to berate him for doing nothing.
“There was nothing to do,” Dennis argued.
“What a nub you are,” Ezra yelled.
General Lank hung up the phone.
“What now?” Dennis asked.
“The president will be here shortly,” Lank said. “And the Eiffel Tower just got up and walked away.”
“It’s going to get worse,” Ezra yelled, “now that the Dearth’s in the soil.”
“What do you suggest?” General Lank asked.
“I suggest you lock up Elton there, and then shoot everybody you currently have captured behind those fences.”
General Lank laughed uncomfortably.
“What are you laughing about?” Ezra asked.
“You’re serious?” the general said.
“As a decapitation,” Ezra screamed. “The Dearth took a bite out of Elton and is now in the soil. Even as you stand here, he’s wriggling about and spreading out. In fact, right now he’s probably whispering to every soul that will listen behind those fences, commanding them to start taking their own freedom a little more seriously.”
“Ha,” General Lank laughed. “My troops built those fences themselves.”
“You’re a fool,” Ezra laughed back. “It would take only a couple dozen of those from Foo to push those fences down. And once they see it’s possible, they’ll all follow—”
“Shut up,” General Lank interrupted.
“Excuse me,” Dennis and Ezra said together.
“I can’t think,” General Lank said.
“That’s obvious,” Ezra growled.
“We keep this a secret,” General Lank insisted. “Until the president arrives, we make no mention of losing the Dearth.”
“You seem to believe the president has some control over all of this,” Dennis said calmly. “I believe it’s time you start thinking a totally different way.”
Ezra almost looked proud.
“This Dearth,” a soldier asked, “how far can he go?”
“According to what I read on Dennis’s head two days ago,” Ezra answered, “he can move just about anywhere there is soil or sand. He can even move under oceans if there is dirt. You can go ahead and keep it a secret, but I guarantee that it won’t be a secret to those who he will first start messing with.”
General Lank’s red face looked like it was going to explode. He swore, making it clear that he would rather be anyplace other than where he was at the moment.
Unfortunately for him, it was about to get much worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fuzzy
Everyone’s forgotten something at some point in their lives. Many have forgotten their keys; some have forgotten where they parked their cars; and a man with a really crooked back and a greasy forehead forgot to meet with me last Tuesday to give me the rest of the notes I needed about Foo. In the eternal scheme of things, his mistake is far more bothersome than simply forgetting where you placed your keys. We had to meet later, in a dark cave where it was hard to see clearly and it strained my eyes to look over the papers he was delivering. Of course, it was so dark that he didn’t notice that I paid him considerably less than agreed upon.
Win-win.
But the worst thing a person can forget is another person or friend. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than meeting people who claim to know you, but you can’t remember a thing about them. Such was the case, and then some, with Winter and Lilly. Lilly had been Winter’s sycophant many years before, and she had been set free when Winter went to Reality. Since then, Winter had lost all memory of her earlier life in Foo and of Lilly, and had no knowledge of how Lilly had become remarkably bitter and destructive.
Now, as Lilly began to see the light, Winter still had no recollection of the small friend she had loved for many years.
Winter held the white sycophant out in front of her and looked her over.
“You look different,” Lilly said. “But the same.”
Winter smiled as if she had been instructed to.
“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” Lilly said softly.
“I don’t,” Winter said sadly. “I’m so sorry.”
Winter was leaning against the trunk of the bare tree on the grassy knoll. Geth, Phoebe, Rast, and Brindle had walked off to give Winter and Lilly some much-needed catching-up time. From where they were now all sitting, it was hard to imagine the rest of Foo falling apart. The weather was cool, and a breeze filled with the scent of tavel wound though the air like a ribbon of caramel. A strong Lore Coil rippled across the scene, announcing the birth of a sycophant named Sunrise.
“I wish I could remember,” Winter said. “It
’s maddening sometimes.”
“Don’t worry,” Lilly said submissively. “I remember you.”
“I know I had to set you aside,” Winter said. “Geth told me that. I’m sure I must have been sad about that.”
“I was angry,” Lilly admitted. “And I still don’t understand everything, but I’ve seen now what you were trying to stop. I should have understood how important it was—seeing all those sycophants floating in the water and watching everyone tear apart our land. My anger was misplaced.”
Three huge rovens flew overhead. One was carrying a large trunk in its talons and the other two were screaming at each other.
“So you’re my sycophant?”
Lilly bowed. “You’ll get used to me again. Having a sycophant can be an adjustment, but we’re made to make things better.”
“You know, it’s weird,” Winter smiled. “I’ve kind of always felt like I had a sycophant because of Clover.”
“Clover?” Lilly asked, the hair on the back of her neck sticking up.
“Leven’s sycophant.”
“Leven’s sycophant is named Clover?”
Winter nodded.
“You could leave me,” Lilly said. “I realize now how wrong I was. I have thought of nobody but myself, while you did just the opposite.”
“You know, there have been moments . . .” Winter smiled.
“Moments?” Lilly asked.
“Where I thought it would have been nice to have my own sycophant,” Winter admitted. “And a girl one at that.”
Lilly’s pink eyes widened to the size of pool balls.
“I mean, I love Clover,” Winter said. “But his taste in . . . well, just about everything is pretty much the opposite of mine.”
“You mean it?” Lilly asked.
“I guess I do,” Winter replied. “But—you know I’m going to Reality. It’s not your responsibility to go with me.”
“I’d love to make up some time,” Lilly begged. “It scares me, though.”
“Really?” Winter asked.
“Foo was not meant to mix with Reality,” Lilly said soberly. “My people were supposed to be the last and final stand.”
“I think somehow you and I were involved in giving them the key,” Winter said.
“I was,” Lilly admitted. “I took it to punish everyone.”
“I was told I buried it to hide it from you,” Winter informed her. “Then Leven found it. So let’s just say it’s Leven’s fault.”
Lilly let out a sigh four times bigger than her actual body. “Thanks, Winter.”
“You know, I’ll probably call you Clover by accident a lot,” Winter informed her.
“Sycophants are not supposed to grow attached to their names anyhow.”
Winter reached out, and Lilly jumped onto her arm. “You’re lighter than Clover.”
“What a nice thing to say,” Lilly smiled. She then flipped up the hood of her small white robe and disappeared.
“Should we get Geth?” Winter asked.
Lilly giggled.
“And Phoebe?” Winter added.
“I guess, but what’s with those two?” Lilly asked.
“I know, tell me about it.”
Winter smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s Raining Confused Men
The glass path was wide and dirty, and thick runs of red grass grew between the shattered shards. Plus, the right side of the path was beginning to be pushed up by growing tree roots. There were far more ruins on this side of the wall than Leven and Clover had passed earlier. Large castles were now nothing but weathered mounds of stone and growth. A row of seven small shops lined the path near an empty fountain filled with dirt. The shops were missing windows and doors, and the roofs of most of them had completely collapsed.
“What is all of this?” Leven asked. “Who lived here?”
“Who knows?” Clover said. “But, if you remember the history of Foo, it used to all be one big land mass with Alder at the center. These ruins are from a long time ago.”
“I don’t understand them,” Leven said. “They look dead, but there is a feeling of life, as if the beings who once lived here still do.”
“That’s crazy,” Clover said.
They checked the shops for any signs of life and then kept walking right through town. The glass path got even wider as it led to a small outdoor amphitheater with a covered stage up front and thick granite seats circling the other half. Fish and bird fossils were visible in the stone that was used for the seating. Leven could see the bones of small creatures and other long-dead animals. Two trees had burst through sections of the seats, and the stage was covered with moss-layered mounds of stone. Leven jumped down from the top ledge onto the upper row of seating.
“Cool,” Leven said sincerely. “This must have been quite the place back in the day.”
Leven hopped down another two rows and stopped to look around. From inside the amphitheater he could look out and see some of the houses and castles that had made up the town whose inhabitants had once lived and performed here.
Now it was nothing but a stone ghost town.
“Where does a person get something to eat around here?” Clover asked. He hopped off of Leven’s shoulder and began jumping down the wide seats. Clover spotted a small bird fossil in the stone and scurried over to it. “Hey, look at—”
Blammt.
From out of nowhere a large, floppy body in a black robe fell from the sky and landed on Clover. Clover scurried to crawl out from under the moaning body as quickly as possible.
“What the—”
Whonnnt.
Another body smacked down two feet from Leven. Leven looked up at the gray sky and then ran to the aid of the individual who had just dropped in. He grabbed the being by the shoulder and turned him over. Leven was expecting to see someone he recognized, some person or being that he had unfinished business with, but it was just a very old man.
Dloopt.
Another being tumbled from above and onto the stone benches.
“What’s going on?” Clover yelled as the sky opened up and body after body came crashing down. One landed on Leven and pinned him to the stone seating. Another landed on Leven’s ankles, making it almost impossible for him to get up. Two came crashing down by Clover, but the small sycophant was able to dodge both blows.
Leven heaved the first body to the side and pushed the other one off of his ankles so he could stand up. “We should find cover,” he called to Clover as two more bodies rained down.
“Where?” Clover asked as another black-robed old man landed facedown directly in front of him. Clover pulled out an old umbrella from his void. He popped it open just as another robed being crashed down onto it.
Leven checked the sky and then leaned down and propped the old man up, pushing back the hood of his robe so he could see him better. The old man moaned and opened his eyes.
For the moment the rain had stopped.
“Who are you?” Leven asked.
“Where am I?” the man demanded.
“I’m not sure,” Leven said. “Who are you?”
“Syarm,” he replied, looking around. “I am a Sochemist. I demand to know where we are.”
The other old men began to sit up and check themselves for bruises and bumps. A couple hollered out to one another.
They had all survived the fall.
There were twenty-four of them altogether, and they wore heavy black robes and had gray hair that was either receding or gone. Around each of their necks was a thick leather band that extended into a strap attaching to the wrist on the left arm. Their right wrists were covered with gold bands of material.
“Where are we?” Syarm asked again.
“You’re on the island of Alder,” Leven answered.
“Alder?” They all began to chatter and moan.
“I’ve formed an opinion,” a short man announced. “We are on the island of Alder. All those who agree say aye.”
�
�Aye,” all the others cheered.
“Are you together?” Leven asked.
A really tall old man in a black robe stood up and raised his right hand. “We are the Sochemists.”
“From Morfit?” Clover asked, putting his bent umbrella back into his void.
The old Sochemist glanced down at Clover. “Typically we pay no attention to sycophants, but yes.”
“Why are you here?” Leven answered.
“I have an opinion,” Syarm said. “We were deciphering and translating a new batch of Lore Coils when, next thing I knew, I was falling from the sky.”
“For the record,” another Sochemist said, “let it be known that no Sochemist has ever traveled to Alder. All those in agreement say aye.”
“Aye.”
After they had dusted themselves off, they huddled together and whispered at one another. The whispering was soft and sober, as if the very next thing one of them said might possibly save them all. They debated what to say and what to ask and finally came up with something.
“We’re curious as to who you are,” Syarm wondered. Two of the other Sochemists patted Syarm on the back for expressing himself so clearly.
“I’m Leven Thumps,” Leven answered.
The Sochemists went wild with the announcement—two fell backwards, one fell forward, and three gasped like timid women who had just seen a huge mouse. They righted themselves, huddled, and conversed.
“You’re the Want?” Syarm finally asked.
Leven smiled. “I am.”
They began to moan and chatter again. One started to cry, and another pulled his robe up over his head and curled up into a small, rocking ball. Yet another bravely reached out and touched Leven.
“Why are we here?” Syarm asked.
“I can’t say for sure,” Leven said. “Did we ever have any unfinished business?”
The Sochemists huddled and fiercely began to shout and yell at one another. “Unfinished business?” “He moves to the oldest tree.” “How dare . . .” “The Want promised we would be done with . . .” “It wasn’t his promise.” “It is the end.”
Leven held up his hand. “Be quiet!”