by Obert Skye
“Dinner’s in ten minutes,” Owen said. “And you should know that the layout of the house has shifted since you’ve been here. The dining hall is now behind you and the hallway out of the door leads up, not down. We had visitors and I thought it best to keep you hidden. They had evil in their eyes.”
“Rants?” Geth asked.
Owen nodded. “We are always one of the first places they check.”
Owen was a cog. He had the clear markings of blue hands and an orange forehead. He was six feet tall and walked with a slightly hunched back. He had thin red hair and a thick brown beard. His eyes were blue with yellow-flecked centers. He had come from nit parents and had been passionately convinced that Foo needed to exist since as long as he could remember. He had worked for many years in the Cusp government, but now lived a peaceful and secretive life helping those he knew to be true to continuing the fight.
“Thank you again,” Geth said.
“To have a true lithen amongst us is an honor. And Leven and Winter—what a thrill,” Owen said, stepping back out of the room. “Stay put, they may return.”
The door shut softly.
“See Reality again?” Leven and Winter both said quickly, bringing Geth back to the topic he had started.
“The Dearth wants the soil of Reality,” Geth said. “If he can move out of the door, then he may be able to accomplish his desires.”
“Door?” Leven asked.
“There’s a permanent path into Reality,” Geth said. “There’s opposition in all things, and Foo has always had the potential to bleed out if evil had its way. Your grandfather found this out only after he had become the Want and long after he had created his own gateway. The gateway you destroyed was so Sabine and Azure and the Dearth couldn’t get out. The permanent door is known only by a few and guarded by millions.”
“It’s on Sycophant Run,” Leven whispered.
Geth nodded. “It’s also protected by stone surrounding its shore. There’s a fifty-mile-wide ring of hard stone that the Dearth cannot move through or make it across.”
“Wait a second,” Leven said excitedly. “But he’s moving the soil two directions.”
“What?” Winter asked.
“Remember, the dirt under the water’s going in two directions,” Leven said, standing up. “He must be moving towards Sycophant Run. They’re not going for gifts and the stones. It’s a trick while they create a way for the Dearth to get to Sycophant Run.”
“Tomorrow we stop Azure,” Geth said. “There’s no more time. Azure wants that key. The Dearth knows that whoever holds that key has the potential to lock him back up.”
“Well, can’t they just unlock him again?”
“Yes,” Geth said. “But it must take time for him to gain any real strength. He wants out of Foo and into the soil of Reality. That key has to stay out of his hands or none of our lives will be of value.”
Owen stepped in again.
“The house is shifting once more,” Owen whispered. “They’re here in force looking for you and the floor plan must be changed. Stay quiet. If you must escape, the door now leads down into the cellar and beneath the street.”
Owen stepped out.
“Does this mean we don’t get to eat?” Clover whispered.
“Quiet,” Geth said.
The sound of footsteps could be heard running overhead and down the back wall. Pounding echoed off one of the side walls as someone or something banged their fists.
Leven and Winter fell to the ground against the purple carpet—strands of yarn twisted up against them. They kept still, as if lying low might keep them hidden.
They heard rants hollering out orders through the wall. Their voices were muffled but strong.
“What happens if they get in?” Winter asked. “I’m not escaping by eating anything else Clover has.”
Clover materialized just so that he could look hurt.
“No offense,” Winter added.
Clover shivered and disappeared.
“We don’t even have our kilves,” Leven said.
Geth crouched down and held his finger to his lips. The wooden doorknob turned and clicked. Geth moved back behind one of the chairs as the fire chanted lowly,
“Closer, closer evil creeps from the soil dark and deep.”
Winter gave the fire a withering look.
The building creaked and rumbled while the door opened wider. Owen slipped in.
“Had the house not shifted it would have been a rant coming in,” he whispered. “Stay put.”
Owen was gone again.
“What kind of place is this?” Clover asked.
“And I thought the Want’s home was confusing,” Leven said.
“The Want’s home shifted due to dreams,” Geth said. “This home changes to deceive.”
The thundering sound of multiple feet running across the ceiling and descending down the wall could be heard. Everyone held their breath and pushed themselves closer to the floor. The thundering sound diminished until there was nothing but the pesky fire chanting,
“Light above and dark below—back to the dust we all must go.”
“What’s up with Owen’s fire?” Leven whispered. “I’ve never heard flame be so specific.”
The doorknob rattled once more. It turned and the door slowly swung open.
“It’s just me,” Owen alerted them. “They’ve gone, and they’re not happy.”
“Any sign of Azure?” Geth asked.
“No, only his rants.”
Everyone stood up and Clover materialized.
“Don’t dwell on the worrisome any longer,” Owen smiled. “You will eat and rest tonight and your minds should be occupied with thoughts that comfort you.”
Owen pulled the door open and two pretty cogs carrying large trays entered the room. They placed them on the round wooden table as two more, far less pretty, cogs came in with even larger trays of food. All four cogs arranged the food on the table as smells stronger than light swirled around the room and under everyone’s nose.
“That smells . . .” Winter’s mind failed to produce a word strong enough to explain how amazing it was.
“Our means are not endless,” Owen said. “But we wish to match the caliber of our guests.”
“Thank you, Owen,” Geth said nobly.
“Yes,” Leven added.
“Sit,” Owen insisted. “Sit and enjoy. I’ll have news for you as you digest.”
Winter almost trampled Geth as she made her way to the table. They all sat and began piling their porcelain plates with food as beautiful as it was aromatic. Leven loaded up on cream steaks and buttered carrots, while Winter went after the smoky breaded sheep and stacks of thick, fluffy wheat cakes dripping in creamy syrup.
“Save some for me,” Clover said needlessly, seeing how as each serving plate was depleted a cog would bring in another, piled high, to replace it.
Clover took handfuls of popped pastries and half a meat pie. He passed the other half to Geth, who was already downing a quarter of a loaf of bread covered in rich dark gravy and slices of peppered sheep.
“I never want to stop,” Leven said with a half-full mouth.
“Me neither,” Winter added, wiping syrup from her chin.
“Who says we have to?” Clover mumbled, shoving muffins and cookies into his void.
The fire had changed its tune and was now singing about the importance of friendship. None of them were listening; they were far too interested in what they were gobbling down.
Thirty minutes later Owen came back into the room. Everyone was reclining and moaning except Winter, who was still eating.
“I hope it was all to your liking?” Owen bowed.
“It was perfect,” Leven said, a crumb of bread sticking to his cheek.
Owen smiled, his orange forehead wrinkling.
“We have the information you requested,” Owen said.
Geth nodded.
“Azure will be attending the match tomorrow. He will be
sitting in the Twit’s seats. He’s making an effort to be seen as a friend of Cusp in front of the crowd. Everyone within five hundred miles will be there. I should add that most of Cusp is only mildly bothered by Azure. A number of citizens find him and his ambition interesting, quirky even.”
“Interesting?” Winter said, disgusted. “It sure was interesting the way Azure tried to destroy us all.”
“Azure has also been spotted all over,” Owen said. “He has been busy. There are reports of him traveling the road between here and Fté. Also he has been seen in Morfit and all around Cusp.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure,” Owen said. “Those reports are not verified.”
“And the Dearth?” Geth asked.
“He has risen, but has not been spotted.”
Winter swallowed her last bite of scorched caramel pie.
Owen smiled again but then quickly looked sad. “Sleep—the door now leads to a top room with plenty of beds. The home will shift a number of times during the night. If trouble occurs, the window will always take you out. It’s probably best, however, to stay put until I retrieve you in the morning. There’s a washroom next to the room, but should that change, you’ll find a pot in your chambers. Sleep—a clear mind can be a terrific advantage.”
They all stood and followed the curiously self-assured cog out of the room and up the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
Evil Is Always Dark at the Core
Standing tall is a very admirable thing. There are very few stories in history of heroes who slouched to the rescue. Likewise, most individuals don’t look up to people who are drooped over. I once heard a song that said something about standing for something or else falling for something else—the song made sense, I’m sure; I’ve just never been great with lyrics. The important thing is good posture. Since the dawn of time adults have been telling children to stand up straight, only to get old themselves and begin to walk with a stoop. We are born curled up, straighten out, and then end up with a hunch.
Fate is funny that way.
Of course, it could be argued that nobody slouched lower and yet had more power than the Dearth as he stood waiting inside the small tent in the open field miles outside of Cusp. His strength had grown and he was now able to stand on his feet and lift his head up when he spoke.
Azure entered the tent.
“You stand,” Azure flattered the Dearth.
“Of course, my strength’s coming quicker now. The key?”
The Dearth stretched out his long, dark right arm and opened his tar pit of a palm. Hundreds of black strings ran from his arm to the soil.
“I am close to finding it,” Azure said. “Dwell on the good: You are free and the war will soon be in full gear.”
The Dearth closed his open palm and lifted his head higher.
“You speak as if your words will comfort me,” he oozed. “I find no comfort in your mistake.”
“Nor do I,” Azure said sharply.
“Leven?”
“Waiting for your arrival.”
“I can’t feel him standing,” the Dearth hissed.
“He knows you are in the soil,” Azure said. “They step carefully, hoping to avoid you.”
The Dearth turned his dark, sticky head and smiled. His face looked like an oil slick on a dirty road.
“How amusing,” he spoke. “How can one hope to avoid the soil forever? Eventually all creatures must rest on the earth.”
Azure remained quiet.
“Where is he?” the Dearth asked.
“We have him,” Azure lied.
The Dearth turned to Azure and flicked out his long, scaly tongue. His tongue lashed Azure on the cheek near his bleeding ear. Azure winced, struggling to hold his temper against one as powerful as the Dearth.
“Do you think I cannot feel?” the Dearth cried.
“I . . .”
“You lie,” the Dearth spit, black juice running from his sticky mouth. “They are free, slipped though your fingers.”
“We will find them,” Azure insisted. “I have hundreds searching even now. It was a blessing that we had them momentarily.”
“Blessing?” the Dearth asked. “What a foolish word. Next you will speak of fate.”
“We will find him.”
“Of course you will,” the Dearth said. “Time cooperates?”
Azure nodded.
“Your ear still bleeds,” the Dearth tisked. “How can I trust you completely when you still battle your own self?”
“Don’t doubt my desire!” Azure shouted.
“So much passion,” the Dearth mocked. “Point that energy towards finding the key. After Cusp, it will be our only loose end. The troops are ready?”
“They move closer even now.”
The Dearth reached up and picked at his own face. He pulled a noodle-like strand of puss from his chin. The lengthy blemish fell to his dark shoulder and oozed into his skin.
“There’s word of a longing,” Azure said bravely.
“I’ve felt it,” the Dearth said. “So many hot tempers and emotions. Let’s see you use this to our advantage.”
“I will,” Azure committed.
“The battle for Cusp may be more heated than planned.”
“We will succeed with you beneath us,” Azure flattered.
The Dearth moaned and soaked up more soil into his being.
“I am still too weak to walk.”
“We will drag you with honor,” Azure said calmly.
“You speak so kindly now, but I know you are as dark and selfish as I.”
“I’m here only to serve.”
The Dearth coughed and choked, sending small wads of dirt and phlegm out over the room. Azure stared into the distance, trying to control his thoughts.
“The time’s finally coming,” the Dearth said happily as he fell back to the soil. “Fate’s time is up.”
“It’s a great day for Foo,” Azure said.
“It’s a final day for Foo,” the Dearth hissed.
Azure moved to pick up the Dearth.
“No,” the Dearth insisted. “I must speak with Leven first.”
“We’ll find him,” Azure argued, bothered by the subject.
“That won’t be necessary,” the Dearth bubbled. “Keep the fire burning out front. I want our visitor to be able to find us.”
“How is . . .”
“Leave me to correct what you have left dangling,” the Dearth scolded.
Azure nodded and stepped from the tent, fighting hard to control his own thoughts. He walked through the few rants surrounding the fire and past the wagon as it sat there drenched in moonlight. Azure climbed up a small dirt ridge and onto a fist-shaped stone outcrop that jutted out over a wide stream. Azure walked to the edge of the stone, stared up at the moons, and hissed like a hoarse wolf.
His mind began to race freely.
It was so exhausting to constantly keep his thoughts away from the Dearth. How satisfying it was to be able to think as he pleased. Azure thought of Sabine. He knew that for many years Sabine had operated under the influence of the Dearth. Azure marveled at Sabine’s strength to have endured it.
Azure thought of Reality. He thought of the power he would have and of the legions of followers he would control. He thought of the single key that Leven held and how he would gladly lock the Dearth back up himself once he had used his power to destroy the sycophants and find the way out. Then Azure would control everyone and everything he pleased.
Azure turned and lifted his head again to the moonlight.
Chapter Eighteen
Pulling Back the Curtain
The black asphalt highway stretched forward forever, looking as if it ran directly into the future. The landscape on both sides of the road was brown, with lighter shades of tan accenting the occasional patch of sagebrush and tumbleweeds. The sun was just beginning to tilt downward, creating short, stubby shadows that in time would be stretched out properly.
A
ddy was asleep in the backseat, her large bulk spread out over both seats. Her relaxed body jiggled slightly as the speeding car vibrated. Terry was at the wheel driving, his right cheek filled with sunflower seeds. He lifted a Styrofoam cup to spit out one of the shells. He set down the cup and fiddled with the radio. There were no clear stations. And all static-filled stations were going on and on about the world falling apart and clouds and bugs attacking everywhere.
“Do you think you could turn it down?” Dennis asked.
Dennis sat in the passenger’s seat looking out the side window. He still wore the white lab coat and fake glasses. Ezra was tucked behind his right ear snoring softly.
Terry turned up the static.
“Seriously,” Dennis said. “It’s just noise.”
“Well, maybe I like noise!” Terry shouted.
Dennis rolled down his window, letting the wind blow forcefully through the car. Ezra flew into the backseat, landing in Janet’s bag of half-eaten Cheetos. He opened his eye and then went back to sleep.
“Close your window!” Terry ordered.
“No radio,” Dennis said, enjoying the feeling of speaking his mind.
Terry flipped off the radio and Dennis rolled up the window.
“This is just about the ugliest piece of earth I’ve ever seen,” Terry whined. “I’m glad it’s not a part of my country.”
“New Mexico is part of your country,” Dennis pointed out.
“Right,” Terry said sarcastically.
“So tell me about that robe,” Dennis asked. “What’s with it?”
“It’s mine,” Terry said defensively.
“I’m not looking to take it,” Dennis said calmly.
“Where are we going, anyway?” Terry bellyached. “I’m sick of driving. Look at this place, nothing but dirt and more dirt.”
“I don’t think it’s too much farther.”
“So there’s going to be money, right?”
Dennis nodded. “And what about this boy, Leven?”
“What about him?” Terry asked. “My sister’s half-sister dies while giving birth to him and we take him in. I don’t remember much about him growing up. I remember I never really liked his name. I always thought he should be called Dirk. But people never listen to me. He was a quiet kid—didn’t eat much. Then he ruined our lives.”