by Obert Skye
“Are those boors?” Geth yelled, still running.
Clover tried to speak, but when his now-tiny noggin wouldn’t allow him to be understood he grabbed Geth’s head again and shook it up and down.
“They’re moving fast,” Geth cried, turning his head back around and running as quickly as he could.
Clover squeaked something back but Geth couldn’t understand it.
“You picked a fine time to shrink your own head,” Geth hollered.
Hundreds of brown boors began to emerge from the bubbling fields. They moved like zombies that knew a thing or two about running. Their outstretched arms looked like dead branches twisting in the dark sky. Clover squealed hysterically and squeezed Geth’s neck so tightly it was difficult for him to breathe.
“Let go,” Geth sputtered.
Clover swung up onto Geth’s left shoulder and twisted around so that he was facing backwards. Hundreds of barky boors were now storming towards them like an angry forest looking for a bit of mob justice. Geth glanced at Clover while running.
“Where’s your head?” Geth asked in shock.
Clover was almost completely headless. His latest treat had shrunk his noodle to the size of a pinto bean. He squeaked some sort of reply, but it was undecipherable. He bounced on Geth’s shoulder, a body without a head, rummaging through his void, searching for anything to help fight off their pursuers. He pulled out a purple pencil and threw it.
The boors increased in number and speed. Geth could see them now swooping in from the prairies out in front of him—wave after wave of dark, splintery beings.
“Any suggestions?” Geth yelled.
“Ccceeeeeeppp,” Clover may have yelled while throwing a broken bicycle horn.
Daylight was completely gone, and Geth’s eyes had difficulty distinguishing between the darkness of the night and the darkness of the beings chasing them.
Clover pulled out a plastic ladybug, felt it with his hands, and then put it back into his void, unwilling to part with it.
“I can’t make out their shapes any longer!” Geth hollered. “They’re blending in with the dark.”
Clover threw a protractor, a half-filled bottle of bubble soap, and an eraser shaped like a baked potato.
Geth could hear the boors drawing in. The sound of their feet filled his head like sandpaper being scraped across his eardrums. Geth put his hands up and ran blindly forward as Clover heaved a porcelain figurine shaped like a pony backwards at a tall boor only inches away. The pony shattered against the attacker but did nothing to slow him down.
“It’s no use,” Geth yelled. “There’re too many!”
A branchlike limb hooked Geth’s left arm and spun him violently around. A second boor grabbed Geth’s right leg as a third wrapped both its arms around him.
“Toothpick!” Clover squealed, beating one of the tree people with a nearly empty ketchup bottle he had taken from a diner in Reality.
“Don’t—” Geth started to yell, but he was stopped short by the deafening sound of silence. He stumbled, falling into a bunch of frozen boors and down onto the dirt. Clover was instantly by his side, squeaking.
“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” Geth insisted. “Quiet!”
Clover stopped squeaking. The night was so dark that Geth couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face, but he could feel woody arms and legs all around him.
“There’s no moon here,” Geth whispered.
What sounded like a balloon being blown up came from the direction Clover had last squealed.
“What are you doing?” Geth asked, still trying to fully catch his breath.
“My head’s expanding back,” Clover replied, his voice returning to normal as he spoke.
“What happened?” Geth asked. “Why’d they stop chasing us?”
Clover struck a match and a small flame lit up his face.
“Ahh!” Geth jumped. “The top of your head’s not quite inflated.”
“It takes a few minutes to get back to normal,” Clover said, offended.
“Are you bleeding?” Geth asked.
“No,” Clover replied. “That’s just ketchup.”
In the small light of the flame Geth could see a few of the still forms around them. Clover turned around, shedding light onto more of their situation. They appeared to be encircled by hundreds of boors.
“They really do look like trees,” Geth observed.
“That’s creepy,” Clover whispered.
“Put out the light,” Geth ordered. “The dark must keep them still.”
Clover waved the match and the flame disappeared like a sparkler dipped in ink. Geth reached out and clumsily felt around. He touched one of the boors and it didn’t move.
“So do you think we could go back and find the things I threw?” Clover asked. “I don’t know what I was thinking, giving up that eraser.”
“Sorry,” Geth said, standing up. “That’s a lost cause.”
Geth began to push his way out from the middle of the boors. Clover jumped in the direction of Geth and landed on his left side just below his arm. He then scrambled up Geth’s back.
Geth shoved two of the boors aside and started scooting through the frozen mob. The boors moved easily, their arms and bodies bending like pipe cleaners as Geth pushed through them. With their eyes finally adjusting to the dark, Geth and Clover could still just barely see any definition. Geth bounced and shoved through the boors and down the path.
“I don’t like this,” Clover said softly. “How many are there?”
“Who knows?” Geth replied. “But I think they’re thinning out.”
A hundred feet later there were only a few boors to push through. Fifty feet more and the path seemed bark free. Geth tried to walk quickly, but he couldn’t see anything.
“This is crazy,” Clover said. “What if we’re about to step off a cliff?”
“Well, we can’t just wait here until morning,” Geth reminded him. “If there’s light for us to see our way, there will be light for them to attack.”
“It would help to have a couple of moons up in the sky,” Clover complained. “What kind of realm is this? No moon in the sky and look, the stars are practically on the ground.”
“Those aren’t stars,” Geth said, stopping.
Geth turned slowly in a circle. In the distance a half dozen dull white lights bobbed and dipped.
“What are they, then?” Clover asked.
Two new white lights appeared down the path in front of them and began to draw nearer.
“Should we run?” Clover asked.
“Where?” Geth replied.
“Should we hide?”
“We’re pretty hidden,” Geth whispered back.
“Well, you’re not hidden enough,” Clover whined. “Because whatever those lights are, they’re coming right for us.”
Geth stood still as Clover disappeared. The round white lights bounced gently closer. They vanished for a moment and then suddenly they reappeared ten feet in front of Geth and Clover. The light looked to be coming from two glowing stones that one man was carrying in his open palms. The weak light surrounded the man like an oval snow globe. He spotted Geth and stopped five feet in front of him.
“Hello,” Geth said kindly.
“Hello,” the man replied with almost as much warmth. He tipped the cowboy hat he was wearing and smiled. The stranger was about five and a half feet tall, with thin arms and beefy legs. He wore a vest over a white, untucked shirt and tweed trousers. He had a fat mustache that wriggled over his top lip like a hairy mealworm. He held his right hand forward to better light up Geth. “There’s talk that the boors were after someone. Is that someone you?”
“We were being chased,” Geth said, “if that’s what y
ou mean. The dark seems to have frozen our attackers.”
“It always does,” the man informed them. “Here, take this stone. You were lucky the night came when it did.”
The mustached man handed Geth one of the glowing rocks. Geth held it in his open palm, and it slowly encased him in a soft blue light.
“My name’s Galbraith,” he said. “I’m a Stone Holder. I’ve not seen you around these parts before.”
“We were just brought here,” Geth informed him. “From Foo.”
Galbraith flinched. His large eyes became slits as he stared Geth down. “We don’t like liars.”
“Neither do I,” Geth claimed.
Galbraith stepped back. He opened and closed his thick fingers around the stone he was holding, causing his presence to go black and then reappear.
“We mean you no harm,” Geth said kindly in response to Galbraith’s sudden uneasiness.
“You keep saying ‘we,’ but I see only you,” Galbraith said boldly.
“Clover,” Geth called.
Clover appeared on Geth’s left shoulder. He was smiling and had his fist under his chin as if posing for a studio portrait.
Galbraith gasped. “What’s that?”
Clover stopped smiling so as to better look offended.
“He’s a sycophant,” Geth answered.
Galbraith frantically opened and closed his palm, causing the light from his rock to flash repeatedly. Glowing rocks in the distance flashed back and some began to get closer. Five seconds later three more men were standing behind Galbraith. Two of them had on cowboy hats and the third was wearing a jersey with the number 2 on it. All three carried rocks in their open palms.
“He says he’s from Foo,” Galbraith reported without ever taking his eyes off of Geth. “And he claims the hairy thing’s a sycophant.”
“That’s not possible,” one of the newcomers insisted.
“It’s more than possible,” Geth said, seemingly unfazed by what was happening. “My name’s Geth, and this is Clover. We were brought here and locked up. When we escaped we were chased down by a bunch of tree-looking beings that became statues as soon as dark settled.”
Four more people gathered behind the three who had joined Galbraith. Those who had heard what Geth had said were “oohhhing” and “ahhing” while the mustached man stood there looking like he was digesting something disagreeable.
“I’m trying to catch up with those who brought me here,” Geth added.
“Why would you do that?” Galbraith asked.
“There was a girl,” Geth replied. “She was the one who found us in Foo.”
“Eve,” Galbraith said firmly.
“You know her?” Geth asked happily.
“By reputation,” Galbraith said sadly. “But we will know her no longer. Payt will kill her.”
“Not if we stop him,” Geth insisted.
“There is no help for those whom Payt has found,” Galbraith said sadly. “If Eve was the cause of your coming here, then she’ll be killed—and any who help her will become nothing but soulless boors like those now frozen behind you. Eve always talked about Foo and how the prophecy was our only chance of survival. Now she will die because of her actions.”
“That very well may be fate’s design,” Geth said. “But I’m not about to leave myself out of the equation.”
“You haven’t got a chance of helping her,” Galbraith insisted. “Travel by dark is too slow, and the daylight gives Payt’s legions an advantage we’ve yet to overcome.”
“Listen,” Clover sighed, addressing the whole bunch. “You’re not going to talk Geth out of anything. I’ve tried hundreds of times, but he’s a lithen.”
Everyone besides Geth and Clover gasped.
“Eve brought back a lithen?” Galbraith whispered.
“It’s a trick,” someone from the back of the crowd yelled.
“It’s no trick,” Geth assured them. “Now, am I going in the right direction?”
Galbraith spun on his boot heels and looked at everyone behind him. He whispered a few things, then swung back around and shrugged.
“You must come with us,” Galbraith said.
“Will you take me to Eve?” Geth asked.
“Just come with me,” Galbraith said sadly. “It’s the only chance you have.”
“Then lead the way,” Geth instructed.
Galbraith and his men began to shuffle to the south through what looked like a field of simmering dirt. Geth and Clover followed but kept back a few feet.
“We should get out of this realm,” Clover whispered.
“We will,” Geth whispered back. “But not before we find Eve.”
“But she might already be dead,” Clover said plainly.
“I don’t think she is,” Geth replied.
“How do you know?” Clover asked.
“I just feel it.”
“Oh, great, a lithen with feelings,” Clover complained. “You know I was supposed to go to Sycophant Run with Lilly next weekend. It’s the tavel festival.”
“Then let’s hope fate moves quickly,” Geth said.
Clover disappeared, but not before mumbling something about how just once he wished fate would mind its own stinking business.
Chapter Eight
The Stone Holders
Evil makes me mad. Sorry—it’s a bold statement, I know, but I’m sticking to it. I just have a hard time seeing eye to eye with evil. It’s like the bad roommate of life. It’s constantly behind on its share of the rent, or it’s taking food that doesn’t belong to it, or it’s making messes that the non-evil personnel of life have to clean up.
I don’t like evil.
I hate evil’s intentions, its personality, and its slimy commitment to making life horrible for so many. That said, I kind of enjoy watching evil people get what’s coming to them. Hey, I might hate evil, but I hang out with double standard occasionally.
The Stone Holders of Zendor were people who had lived with evil so long now they couldn’t clearly see how life might be without it. Galbraith took Geth and Clover down a long tunnel and into a large underground room. The room had a stone floor with dirt walls and ceilings and no windows. Torches hung on the walls, lighting the place like the inside of a jack-o-lantern. There was a stove in the middle and a pipe that rose from the stove and up into the ceiling. On the ground were fuzzy lengths of brown fabric. Chairs were scattered all over and three wooden benches surrounded the stove like discarded Lincoln Logs.
“Sit,” Galbraith directed kindly. “Please.”
Geth took a seat on one of the wooden logs while Clover remained sitting on his head.
Galbraith warmed his hands near the stove and then sat down next to Geth. He took off his hat and held it in his hand. His head was not only bald, it was quite possibly the best argument ever for people to be allowed to wear hats inside.
Dozens of pale, worn-looking men began to fill the room and stare at Geth. Most of them looked like dusty cowboys with hats on their heads and boots on their feet. Two spat something on the ground and a third said, “Boy howdy.” There were also some athletic-looking men and a few guys wearing weathered business suits.
“I think we’re wasting time,” Geth ventured.
“Trying to save Eve is futile,” Galbraith said once more.
“You brought me here to tell me that?” Geth asked, bothered.
“I brought you here to save your life,” Galbraith insisted. “Most of us were once just dreams—dreams so repetitive and strong that we found life here in Zendor. We’re as real as anyone else now, but we realize that some things are impossible.”
“This is foolish,” Geth argued, the Ezra in him losing patience. “If you don’t want to help, then we’ll be on our way.”
“You don’t understand,” Galbraith said. “We know nothing about triumph. We’ve lived in dark so long we can’t comprehend anything but.”
“Then let’s change that,” Geth said excitedly.
The crowd of Stone Holders looked at Geth, waiting for him say more. When he didn’t, Galbraith spoke.
“We know our place and it is not in the light.”
“So you stay down here all day?”
Galbraith nodded. “We are Stone Holders. We farm and harvest and interact outside only at night and only by the light of stones. Anything brighter and the trees will move in and steal us. We have made stable places to live even though so much of the ground is temperamental.”
“How long have you lived like this?” Geth asked.
“Almost thirty years,” Galbraith replied.
“Can’t you fight it?”
“How?” Galbraith questioned sincerely.
“There must be a way,” Geth insisted. “This is no way to live.”
“You don’t get it,” Galbraith argued. “There are eyes behind every tree. And those eyes know nothing but the will of Payt. It’s impossible to fight it.”
Geth smiled at the mention of impossible.
“The second you try to fight, they’ll capture you,” Galbraith continued. “There are too many to avoid. They’ll capture you and your fight will ultimately add to their strength. So we stay hidden, moving only at night under the light of the stones.”
“Interesting,” Geth said, stretching. “So, which way is out?”
“Haven’t you heard anything I said?” Galbraith asked incredulously.
“I’ve heard a bunch of grown men talking about a life without light,” Geth replied. “Come on, Clover.”
Clover appeared, clinging to Geth’s left leg. All of the Stone Holders who were gathered in the room gasped and whispered at Clover’s presence.
Clover waved politely and then asked, “Before we go, how does a person actually get out of this realm?”