Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

by Obert Skye

  “Thank you,” Geth said.

  “But sleep now,” Durfin insisted. “It’s late and the water will surge soon. I have a few rooms I think you will find most comfortable.”

  “You are more generous than ever,” Geth said sincerely.

  “And fat!” Durfin laughed. “Stay as long as you need.”

  “We need to be in Cusp in two days,” Geth said.

  “That’s not a problem,” Durfin said. “Spend tomorrow here; you must be tired. You’ll still make it in plenty of time.”

  Durfin pulled another rope and a single Eggman entered the room.

  “Harold, put them in rooms where the water is best seen—the ones on the inner Spiral. Treat them better than you would treat your family.”

  Harold nodded as well as someone with no neck could and then led the four of them to their rooms. Geth got the biggest one and Leven and Clover got the room between him and Winter.

  “This is cozy,” Clover said, as he looked around the room with his hands on his hips.

  Leven leaned out the window and glanced down. The window was just a round stone opening on a cliff wall hundreds of feet above dark, surging water. Down on the floor of the room were a dozen tiny holes. Leven leaned back in carefully.

  “This is unnerving,” he said. “Do you really think this is one of their best rooms?”

  “I can’t think of a single place I’d rather be,” Clover sighed. “Did you hear him say they were happy I was in their corner? They like my ideas.”

  “I think he was being sarcastic.”

  “I know,” Clover said dreamily.

  Through the window Leven could see other lit openings dotting the tall cliff walls that made up a small portion of the gigantic Spiral. Various noises lifted from each room filling the air with a cacophony of sound. Most rooms had Eggmen in them busily mixing and working over small fires.

  The room they were occupying was the size of a small bus. It was lit by stones in the ceiling that glowed like lightbulbs. There was a wooden door at the back, which opened up to a spiral stone stairway and a communal washroom. The only piece of furniture in the room was an enormous round plastic beanbag.

  “Looks like a nest,” Leven said, pointing to the bed.

  “Where’s mine?” Clover asked.

  “You can sleep on my cloak.”

  “Thanks,” Clover said sincerely. “And I’ll share some of the candy I’ve found.”

  “Found?”

  “Well, it was just sort of sitting there.”

  Leven looked at Clover. “Just sitting there? On tables where Eggmen were working?”

  “Yep.” Clover smiled. “Look at this: Lofty Toffee. It’s supposed to turn you into wind.” He held up an orange tube.

  “I don’t want any of your candy,” Leven insisted. “Especially if it turns me to wind.”

  “I don’t know,” Clover said. “It could be a cool way to travel.”

  “Keep your candy away from me.”

  “I need to find someone to test . . . try it out on.” Clover shivered and disappeared.

  “I think you should try it on—”

  A noise similar to a fleet of stampeding elephants started to swell, cutting off Leven. Wind began to howl through the window, blowing Leven’s hair back.

  Clover held tight to Leven’s neck.

  The noise increased and Leven reached out to grab onto the wall. The wind grew and grew, spinning around the room and lifting Leven’s feet from the ground.

  “What . . . ?”

  Clover disappeared as Leven flew back into the bed. The sound pounded the walls right up until the point when the water began rushing in. It shot through the hole like a geyser, filling the stone room and pinning Leven up against the ceiling.

  Before Leven could even scream the water began to recede. It dropped rapidly out of the window. Leven fell onto the bed as the final foot of water slipped out of the tiny holes at the base of the wall. He bounded to his feet.

  “Was that supposed to happen?” Leven asked.

  Clover materialized and jumped up to the window.

  There was a knock at the door. Leven pulled it open and Winter was standing there soaking wet.

  “We’re trying to sleep,” Clover said sternly.

  “So was I,” she growled.

  “Hold on,” Leven said. “I don’t think it’s over.”

  Leven pulled Winter into the room as a great vacuum of air began slurping them towards the window.

  “It’s some sort of after-suckage,” Clover screamed.

  “After-suckage?” Winter yelled.

  Leven and Winter were pulled to the floor as every last drop of water was being sucked from the room. The fillings in Leven’s teeth rattled and his hair was being pulled out from his scalp. With a brain-shaking pop the suckage stopped.

  Things were dry again and the sound of the water lowering outside was comforting. The air had quieted but they kept their heads down while lying on the floor.

  “These are the good rooms?” Winter questioned.

  “I could do without a view of the water,” Leven said.

  Clover was at the window looking out. “All the other caves I can see look like nothing even happened. They just use that force to create what they do.”

  “I hope Geth’s okay,” Winter said.

  “He probably slept right through it.”

  “Do you think that happens every two hours?” Winter asked.

  “I’m sleeping on the stairs,” Clover said. “I’ll take that cloak.”

  Leven took off his cloak and handed it to Clover.

  “It’s wet,” Clover complained. He disappeared without taking it.

  “I say we get Geth and get out of here,” Winter said. “There’s no way I can sleep here.”

  “We’ve got two hours before it happens again. That’s better than nothing. I’ll wake you before we drown.”

  Winter stormed out.

  Leven jumped up onto his bed, surprised to find it dry. The lights on the ceiling dimmed.

  He lay back and closed his eyes—there was nothing but blackness with a faint light around the edges. Since becoming the Want, Leven still hadn’t seen even a sliver of the future. His eyes burned, but he didn’t see anything and his dreams were nothing but dull

  colors. He thought back to his father’s dream. He remembered

  seeing a man and a boy walking, or doing something by a river. The dream felt hopeful and heavy and impossible.

  “Dad,” Leven said aloud to the dark ceiling.

  “Nope, Clover,” Clover whispered back.

  “I thought you were sleeping on the stairs.”

  “They’re hard as rock.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “Just try not to snore,” Clover said.

  Leven shifted over and tugged on the beanbag’s covering to create a short blanket.

  “Don’t you ever miss your family?” Leven asked. “I mean, you never talk about your mom or dad.”

  “I miss them all the time,” Clover said. “But as a sycophant I am part of your family now. I’ll see mine again.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the longing,” Leven whispered.

  “The girl in the cage?”

  “If I’m not thinking about my father, I’m thinking of her.”

  “I think that’s what your grandfather wanted,” Clover reminded Leven. “He was messing with you.”

  “But it’s too late,” Leven said. “Lith’s gone.”

  “She’s not. She’s trapped just like she’s always been. You could use those special Waves of yours.” Clover said the last line with a sneer.

  “Are you jealous of the Waves?” Leven said.

  “They’re just so showy,” Clover complained. “I prefer a little tact. But I suppose if anyone could locate her it would be them. Have them find her and then you can swim in to rescue her and be the big hero.”

  Leven was silent.

  “Are you thinking about her?” Clover as
ked.

  “Yes,” Leven said.

  “Call your Waves. What’s the big one called? Gargoyle?”

  “Garnock.”

  “Yeah, call him.”

  “Maybe I will. Do you wanna come?”

  “I think he’s chattier when I’m not around,” Clover said. “So if it’s okay with you, I’ll just sleep. In less than two hours we have to get up and take a bath.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yes,” Clover said. “Positive.”

  Leven sat up and worked his way out of the nest. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Try not to wake me,” Clover said sleepily.

  “You really are the perfect sycophant.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  Leven slipped out the door and stepped quickly down the stone stairs.

  Chapter Four

  Look at Me, I’m a

  Chapter Heading

  There are so many impatient people in the world. It seems everyone wants something right this second. We don’t want to wait in lines, we get fidgety when our food takes too long to cook, and we have no tolerance whatsoever for anyone who holds us up from doing anything we want to do the moment we want to do it. I’m bothered right now that I’m having to wait till the end of this sentence to see what word I end up on. On, who knew? It’s particularly hard to wait for things that are days or weeks or even months away. Calendars mock you, clocks pester you, and the rotation of the earth seems to slow by at least forty percent. I suppose, however, that if you were preparing to take over the world and you needed one final piece to fall into place, but that piece had to be slowly dragged over the dirt so that it didn’t die, that would be really hard to wait for. I’d feel sorry for whoever that happened to, but then again they were trying to take over the world and all.

  So please, no sympathy for Azure.

  The march to Cusp was going slower than Azure would have preferred. The Dearth was weak and required long stretches of time to just lie still on the soil and build his strength. He was weak, and rising above the soil had caused him great strain.

  The rank of rants accompanying them sat huddled by the side of the thin dirt road. A small tent was set up in the grass. Inside the tent the Dearth was lying down soaking up the soil and communicating with everything dark that lived below the surface. The Dearth lay on his back with his arms and legs spread out. His features were slowly becoming better defined as he gained strength.

  “Can you feel him?” Azure asked.

  “My touch is much more sensitive,” the Dearth smiled, his tar-like face smearing vertically as he did so. “I can feel and hear so much more from the soil now that I have risen above.”

  Azure could feel the ground under him vibrating as the Dearth whispered and controlled things beneath the soil. The feeling was not new to Azure. He had long been influenced by the whispering of the Dearth. It was just so much stronger now.

  “We’re moving slowly,” Azure said. “But I can feel your strength growing.”

  “Yes,” the Dearth said weakly. “I’ll walk soon. Tell me where we are?”

  “We are below the Cinder Depression,” Azure said. “I can see the peaks of Morfit from the road.”

  “But we travel to Cusp.”

  “Yes,” Azure said respectfully.

  “There’s much stone in Cusp.”

  “We will travel around it, to the Meadows.”

  Azure scratched at his infected ear. The Dearth looked at him with his black, foggy eyes and blinked.

  “Your ear,” he oozed. “It bleeds.”

  “It’s not important,” Azure insisted.

  “There’s still some confusion in you,” the Dearth scolded. “Are you not up to the task? Sabine was never infected with doubt.”

  “Sabine’s dead,” Azure snapped. “Had he not failed in the first place, we would be much closer to our victory.”

  “Speak well of him,” the Dearth warned. “Sabine was so easy to use, so easy to convince. His influence is not over. Tell me how things look now.”

  “The whole of Foo is sliding in our direction,” Azure reported. “Lith’s gone and the Want is no longer a concern. Our armies are gathered on the edge of Cusp. But we rattle no sabers. Those in Cusp believe we are setting the stage to march down the gloam to the stones. There’s talk that you have risen above the soil, but for most your existence is a fable too impossible for even Foo to swallow.”

  The Dearth smiled.

  “Cusp is the last stronghold of any forces large enough to deter us. Cork will fall in place. We but need the secret and we will march over the gloam onto Sycophant Run and find the exit. Something Sabine was never able to accomplish.”

  “Yes, yes,” the Dearth hissed. “You, Azure, are three times the mind that Sabine was. What of the keys?”

  “The Sochemists have them,” Azure said. “Although I see no value to them now that you are unlocked.”

  “All the keys are there with the Sochemists?”

  Azure nodded.

  The Dearth closed his eyes and sighed. Small bits of him began to drip from his sides and run along the surface of the ground.

  Before Azure could understand what was happening, black strands shot up Azure’s legs and coiled around his waist. The Dearth dripped further, sending hundreds of strands of himself whipping up and around Azure. Azure tried to move, but he was bound.

  The Dearth lay there, his right side spilling like a puddle of oil and running up around Azure. He choked Azure at the neck, tightening thin strands of black like a tourniquet.

  “All the keys?” the Dearth asked again.

  Azure pulled at the black strings around his neck, struggling to speak.

  “The sycophant key is a copy,” Azure admitted. “It’s a copy.”

  Instantly the Dearth retracted himself, leaving Azure gasping for breath.

  “How?” the Dearth demanded.

  “We stole the image from the key’s reflection as Leven looked in a mirror,” Azure said. “There is no difference. After all, the key worked and you’re free.”

  “Free.” The Dearth released the word like a slow leak. “Free for now, but it would take only one key to lock me back up.”

  “We’ll get the key.”

  “Of course you will,” the Dearth said. “Thank you for being so accommodating. I believe I am ready to travel farther.”

  Azure picked the Dearth up and carried him out of the tent. Azure’s dark heart was pained, but the hatred he felt for the Dearth was greater. Azure knew there would come a time when the allies would have to turn towards each other and fight. It was clear that after they had used each other there would be no friendship.

  “I can feel what you’re thinking,” the Dearth whispered.

  “Ignore my thoughts,” Azure insisted.

  “I will for now,” the Dearth answered. “But it would be best for you if you ignored them.”

  “As you wish,” Azure said.

  Azure carried the Dearth back to the wagon, focusing his thoughts on things far more benign than conquering all of Reality and eventually snuffing out the Dearth.

  Chapter Five

  The Devil’s Spiral

  The Devil’s Spiral was even more frightening looking up from the bottom. The lit caves shining in the dark night combined to look like a towering jack-o’-lantern with hundreds of misplaced eyes—and the water sounded like a thousand hoarse voices mumbling something sinister.

  Leven had left his room and located Harold, the Eggman who had helped them previously. Leven had persuaded Harold to take him to the base of the Spiral.

  Harold was thin and sickly looking. He was taller than he was wide and his white skin was loose and saggy. He wore a striped robe like a dress with various utensils and objects tied to the hem and sleeves. His big wet eyes dripped at the corners.

  “The docks are over there,” Harold said, objects clattering as he pointed. “Be careful—the water rises in less than an hour. Bells will toll twice before it does. When t
he alarm sounds, the water’s coming in.”

  “Thank you, Harold,” Leven said. “I’ll find my way back.”

  “It’s very late,” Harold said.

  “I realize that,” Leven replied.

  “Durfin might find fault with me for leading you here,” Harold said. “He said to extend you full hospitality, but he might question this.”

  “Is this area off-limits?” Leven asked.

  “No, but there’s much danger at the base of the Spiral,” Harold insisted. “And the dark of night makes it even more perilous and concerning.”

  “I’ll be quick.”

  “Your sycophant is with you?”

  “Of course,” Leven lied, knowing that Clover was hundreds of feet higher, sleeping on the large purple nest.

  Harold looked torn. “I am concerned.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Leven insisted.

  “The bell will toll twice,” Harold said again. “Do not ignore it.”

  Harold slipped back through the granite door they had just come out of, leaving Leven alone. The water mumbled and surged, splashing up against the shore

  Leven ran down the wooden dock. It was so late that night was almost over—morning would be making its first appearance in the next hour or so. Nobody was out or around and the only sound Leven heard was the Veil Sea lapping restlessly against the dock and shore.

  Leven ran to the end of the long pier. He stood on its edge as water from the sea misted his face. The horizon was dark and felt thick. Leven wiped his eyes and cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “Garnock!” Leven yelled. “Garnock?”

  The only reply was the sound of lapping water. Leven sat down on the pier, dangling his legs and wishing he had brought along his wet cloak to keep him halfway dry. His thoughts were with Phoebe and his father. The white streak in Leven’s hair shimmered under the tiny bit of light the moon was able to push down.

  Water sprayed him again.

  Clouds in the night sky blew away and the moon dipped its long beams down onto the sea’s surface. Leven could see the choppy waves beating up against the shore.

  “Garnock!” Leven yelled again.