Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

  “I can’t believe you found him,” Leven said as they exited the mobile home park. “So he’s going to take us to Foo?”

  “In a sense.” Winter’s green eyes blinked.

  “Unbelievable, so Clover was right. He was waiting for us?”

  “Well, not exactly. I’ll tell you everything later,” Winter promised.

  Leven stared at her, thinking about his life and what an amazing turn it had taken. Last night he was chased by the earth, today he saw a tree lift and shatter his old house.

  “Unbelievable,” he said again, still wondering how a person like himself could even be involved in all of this.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Clover whispered to Leven.

  “I only left you this morning,” Leven smiled.

  “Still, it wasn’t the same without you.”

  They worked their way through town and down toward the river. The night deepened to a rich black and in the far distance a pack of coyotes yipped mournfully. Leven and Winter had a lot ahead of them, and not much time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fury by Design

  Sabine walked swiftly down the halls of Morfit, his rat-like features twitching. Those nearby scurried to be nowhere near wherever he was actually going. Few dared question his motives or reasoning anymore. Well, a few dared, but those few were separated from their loved ones and shipped to the far borders of Foo to live out their lives harvesting gunt—a very unpleasant job, to say the least.

  Sabine was darker and more powerful than ever. He had created a true division in Foo, feeding off the most troubled dreams and stirring up the hearts of any who would buy into his plan to return to reality. Thousands and thousands of beings were now sold on the idea of Foo and reality coming together. They wanted to see who they had been taken from and live the impossible in the physical world. Of course Sabine was overlooking one crucial fact—that fact being that what he was preaching would eliminate every dream on earth and ultimately cause Foo to collapse. If even a fourth of Foo were to abandon their fate, the dreams and imaginations of those in reality would cease to exist and hope would be lost to the human race. Fate took in who it needed to keep the dreams of man alive. If the population of Foo dwindled, those on earth would ultimately vanish. The wise in Foo knew this. They understood their purpose to be sacred and took their responsibility and roles seriously.

  Sabine wanted none of that. He wanted to be able to slip in and out, so he could rule both reality and Foo. He foolishly believed he could have it all.

  Sabine waved his hand, and the guards standing in front of the door stepped aside. He walked through and into the grand chamber. It was one of the largest caverns in Morfit. In the center of the room was a lengthy wooden table. Every seat around the table was occupied, except for the large one at the head. Sabine took his place and sat with a flourish.

  “The full moon of Lant,” he bowed, wishing them well, Foo-style.

  Morfit was as tall as a mountain and as wide as any prairie on earth. A castle of rock, it stood next to and towered above the Lime Sea beside it. It was a work in progress, a place that constantly grew, thanks to the labors of those in Foo who sought peace in the aftermath of their own misdoings. If a person or being in Foo did something they felt was wrong or unbecoming a member of a realm of endless possibilities, they would dig up a stone wherever they stood and carry that stone to Morfit. There they would place the rock carefully and walk away without their burden. Long lines of people with stone in hand, working their way toward Morfit, were a common sight these days, stacking rocks upon rocks, building the mountain of Morfit.

  Morfit had not always been so imposing. In the beginning, Morfit was only a small scar in the ground. Now, as the dreams of men on earth grew darker and the division in Foo was creating fear and jealousy, Morfit expanded hourly. The castle of rocks reached to the thick upper sky, creating an imposing mountain filled with caverns and passages. Beings of all forms and desires hid among the caves and tunnels formed by the sins of those in Foo.

  Morfit, by virtue of its size, had become the center of Foo. Those who met in council did so there, as well as those who established the changing laws and sat to hear disputes. The dreams of man could not penetrate the structure, making it an off-limits area for dream enhancement and a safe ground for personal thought.

  Sabine considered those around the table in the grand hall and smiled broadly.

  “We hope this will go smoothly,” a council member spoke, addressing him.

  “I trust it will,” Sabine humbly affirmed. “I have come to make amends,” he announced.

  The members of the council looked at each other skeptically.

  “I have been out of line and am in need of your forgiveness,” Sabine continued.

  A murmur went around the table, then ceased. The council members were shocked but seemed to like the direction the discussion was going. They had gathered to rebuke Sabine and put an end to his scheme to merge Foo and reality. As much as whisps longed to be whole, they understood that were Foo and reality to merge, they, along with the dreams and imaginations of all mankind, would vanish.

  “So your thoughts have changed?” the lead council spoke, his voice betraying his surprise. “You have created this division and now you feel differently?” he asked with disbelief.

  Sabine nodded. “I was wrong. I see now that the path I was on is futile.”

  The room was dead quiet, which might have been expected, since all the men and women who sat on the council were pretty much dead. They were whisps, void of soul and life, a rare aberration and a unique breed in Foo.

  Sometimes those on earth who step on a mismatched lane or sidewalk don’t make it all the way to Foo. Or a better way of putting it is that they don’t make it completely to Foo. Those beings only partially arrive and are robbed of only a portion of their presence: their bodies and souls remain on earth, feeling lost and confused, while Foo receives only a hollow likeness of them.

  These oddities are called whisps. They have no real substance, but they can still think and react, while passing through objects as though they were ghosts. Whisps are worthless dance partners and of no help when you need to move a large object or want a push on the swings, seeing how they can’t touch or react with anything physical.

  Having no substance, they are valued only for their thoughts. So it is that they serve in Foo as members of governing councils and boards. They aren’t indestructible, however, and Sabine was tired of those he had to answer to. He was fed up with procedures and the shifting logic and rules of Foo. Sabine thirsted for absolute power and personal glory. He wanted out of Foo so he could better control reality. If dreams and hope were the casualties of his quest for control, so be it.

  “I thought I knew what was best.” Sabine’s voice was thick with pretended emotion and remorse. “I know now that I have been wrong,” he lied.

  The council members were very pleased and flattered. They were also unaware that Sabine was setting them up. The biggest weakness in a whisp was his or her inability to resist a compliment. They normally had the ability to think clearly, but the moment someone complimented them on their two-dimensional hair or their intellect or anything else, they lost their ability to reason.

  “You have served Foo in a most pleasing manner,” Sabine continued. “It is your example and wise decisions that have helped me recognize my misbehavior.”

  Everyone in the room nodded in complete agreement.

  Sabine removed the hood from his cloak, signaling his shadows to come in. A number of them filtered into the room, each of them carrying a small, polished object. The shadows were of different sizes and shapes, but each was a warped and flat reflection of Sabine. Each found a place near a council member and waited.

  Sabine nodded, and his shadows displayed to the council members the tiny round objects they held in their hands. Some of the whisps were reluctant to look at what the shadows held.

  “Do not be concerned,” Sabine smiled. “Please,
” he gestured broadly, “these are merely gifts from me to you. My way of saying I was wrong.”

  “What are they?” one asked skeptically.

  “Soul stones,” Sabine replied, casually.

  There was an audible, collective gasp, then the room fell silent. Sabine could not have uttered two more powerful words.

  It had been rumored since the first whisp entered Foo that somewhere in the realm of Foo there existed an object that could make a whisp whole. “Soul stones,” they were called, and possessing one, a whisp would be transformed from an empty, two-dimensional image into a whole being who could touch and run and experience a complete life in Foo.

  To a whisp, nothing was more sought after and wondrous than a soul stone.

  “Soul stones,” they whispered reverently. A few tried to touch them, but their hands went right through.

  Sabine smiled amiably. “These were not easy to come by, friends. But your forgiveness of my misbegotten behavior seems to have merited them. It is my pleasure to present them to you.”

  The whispering intensified. The possibility of their being whole clouded their judgment and suspended all caution.

  “If you would like, my shadows will open them for you,” Sabine cordially continued. “In a mere moment you will be whole for the first time.”

  Ecstatic chatter and excitement filled the room. A number of whisps wobbled as if faint. Others stood trembling in front of their assigned shadows, fidgeting and wringing their hands in joy.

  Sabine gestured with his right hand, and the stones split open. A deep, red glow, mesmerizing and brilliant, oozed out of each one, then tantalizingly began to withdraw. The whisps gazed in awe and wonder. They reached forward, captivated by the hope of becoming whole and unable to resist. As their ghostlike hands touched the glow, they were suddenly sucked in toward the light.

  For a moment they assumed it was a part of becoming whole, but a few quickly realized what was really happening. They should have known better. It had seemed strange that Sabine would admit his wrongdoing when he had been so arrogant in the past and so close to victory at the moment. It seemed unlike him to apologize when he had for so long resented the restraints imposed on him by what he often called the wretched Council of Whisps. His humility and cordial behavior were entirely out of character, but the hope of becoming whole had caused the entire group to go daft. They had thrown caution to the wind, and now they were paying for it with their thin lives.

  The only way to get rid of a whisp is to suck it up. That is why whisps are so horribly frightened by vacuums. Their substance is so thin that a simple sucking can draw them in. And if they are drawn into a small enough space they can be trapped. If a whisp is compacted to the size of a pea, it then has enough substance to prevent it from simply slipping through the material that is holding it captive. More than one child in Foo had tormented and teased a whisp by chasing it with a vacuum outside the steps of Morfit. Whisps weren’t fond of children.

  Sabine, of course, wasn’t looking to simply torment and tease. Sabine wanted the whisps gone for good. His cruel genius was in creating a vacuum small enough to fit into a polished stone.

  Sabine laughed scornfully as the whisps writhed and screamed while being sucked into the tiny rocks. Some cursed him and others cried, knowing they had been tricked to death. The black shiny stones glowed as they consumed the images of all the whisps.

  In a few moments it was over.

  The shadows closed the tiny rocks and placed them on the now-unoccupied giant table before them. Sabine looked at the pile and waved his shadows away.

  Nobody could intentionally kill another being in Foo. You could hit your worst enemy in the head with a club, and it would have no effect. If someone intentionally pushed you off a cliff you would simply land at the bottom unharmed. If, however, someone accidentally bumped into you and knocked you off a cliff, you would fall to your death. That was an interesting fact of Foo that had prevailed ever since the realm had come to be.

  Sabine, however, had found clever ways to kill and rid himself of those who opposed him. He had placed Geth’s soul in a seed and set the crows loose on him. Now he had successfully trapped the Council of Whisps in the rocks, but he still needed some unsuspecting and innocent victims to finish the job for him.

  He looked at the stones and with his power turned them into ice. Sabine too was a nit, endowed with the same gift Winter possessed. He collected the frozen rocks in a wooden box and handed them to Jamoon, who had been standing guard outside the door.

  Sabine smiled. “See that these are given to the children out in the far field,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Your Perfectness,” Jamoon bowed.

  “Let them practice stick with them,” Sabine suggested. “They may use them all. I don’t want them back.”

  “You are so kind and giving,” Jamoon added. “So kind and giving.”

  Sabine turned away, knowing that in a matter of minutes the entire council would be nothing but shattered rocks strewn over a child’s playing field.

  He stepped into the dark musty chamber off of the hall and inhaled deeply. Shadows by the thousands rushed to him and swirled together into one dark spiral, humming and whistling vulgarly.

  “We’re here, we’re here,” they chanted. “We’re here.”

  Sabine glanced and saw that something was not right with his minions. They were frightened and resisted his pull. Some whispered and cried as they told of Leven Thumps and how they had not been able to darken his dreams. Some reported that Leven was allied with Winter and a spirit they didn’t recognize, but feared.

  “What kind of spirit is with the boy?” Sabine demanded, the confidence he felt just moments before leaving him.

  The shadows cowered, too frightened to speak. The shadows that surrounded Sabine were not only sinister, they were disposable. Sabine had gone through many. They couldn’t escape the master who cast them, but he could will them to dissolve at any time he chose.

  Sabine closed his eyes and clapped.

  The dark spiral of spirits evaporated into nothing, each sending a piercing screech ringing through the chamber as it disappeared. Sabine moved in front of the tall window and drew the heavy drape back. Light flooded the chamber, casting Sabine’s dark shadow onto the floor and against the far wall—a new, less intimidated shadow.

  “What kind of spirit?” Sabine inquired of the newly cast dark patch. “What was the spirit like that your predecessors did not recognize?”

  “It was strong,” the sole shadow stated. “It was strong and familiar. It was unafraid. Royal.”

  “Royal?” Sabine whispered. “Did you hear mention of the name Geth?”

  The shadow nodded and quaked.

  “Geth is alive?” Sabine cursed.

  Sabine turned and moved quickly. He walked in front of the window again, and a new, tall shadow formed to join the other. Sabine paced back and forth in front of the window, thinking, and a third appeared. By the time he had his thoughts about him, the room was filled with hundreds of new, dark forms of all sizes and lengths. They followed him out of the room, whispering eagerly, ready and willing to do his bidding.

  Sabine had eliminated the Council of Whisps, but now he had Geth to worry about. He couldn’t dwell on that. Those who would follow him would be much bolder, now that the council and their negative advice were gone. Sabine’s followers needn’t know that Geth still lived. Sabine shuddered and drew in breath like a rat. He had to find the gateway.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We Felt the Earth Squirm under Our Feet

  Leven had barely fallen asleep when the shadows began their work. As deep as the night, they moved in from beyond, falling upon him, whispering, insinuating themselves into his dreams.

  “You’re worthless. Worthless,” they hissed. “Fool. Fool,” they howled.

  Leven tossed and turned as they rolled over him and dived brazenly into his mind. Leven’s eyes burned behind his closed lids, and his mouth was as dry as the
entire month of July. He cried out and moaned, thrashing around madly in his sleep.

  “He did this last night,” Winter whispered to Geth as she sat beneath the bridge looking at Leven. “It looks painful.”

  “It is,” Clover complained, appearing out of nowhere. “I can’t sleep with him any longer. He’s freaking me out,” Clover shivered.

  “It’s Sabine,” Geth said. “Leven has no control. Sabine’s shadows have him by the dreams.”

  “That can’t be good,” Winter said.

  “It’s not,” Geth replied. “But there is nothing we can do. We must let fate work its course. Your touch has changed his dreams. They are now marked with traces of Foo. They can find him in his sleep. At the moment it isn’t such a concern. They know where we are. In the future we’ll have to be more cautious.”

  “We could wake him,” Winter suggested boldly, her own head beginning to throb.

  “That is not a solution. It would only make Leven leave us now,” Geth insisted. “It would not be wise.”

  “So we just sit here while a bunch of ghosts work him over in his dreams?” Winter complained.

  Leven rolled completely over and cried out in fear. He tucked his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, moaning. His eyes flashed open and were burning gold. They closed and he thrashed about again.

  “I’m not doing this any longer,” Winter insisted. “We need to start moving anyhow.” She crawled over to Leven. Geth tried to stop her, but it’s incredibly hard for a toothpick with one arm to hold back a thirteen-year-old girl who is actually tall for her age. So he just rode in her pocket, curious to see how fate would work this out.

  Winter knelt beside Leven and touched him. His body was as cold as snow. She felt him shivering.

  “Lev,” she whispered.

  He moaned louder.

  “Lev, wake up, it’s me,” she said even louder.

  Leven turned and looked at her. His eyes were black and in the whites of them she could see dark images floating back and forth. Winter gasped and drew back. Leven glared at her hatefully. He was not himself.