by Obert Skye
Leven continued to move down the hall. He wanted to run away, but the paintings seemed to draw him in.
“What is this place we are standing in now?” he asked.
“A forgotten arm of the school,” Geth said with disgust. “For many years they taught history here. Now it is nothing but an unused museum of things we would like to forget, but will soon remember as we do them all over again. Winter was taught here.”
“She was?”
“Sabine himself picked her to lead his noble cause,” Geth said sarcastically. “I now believe that he tricked her into finding a way to steal gifts.”
“Jamoon can steal gifts?”
“That’s what Sabine was trying to do when I was put into a seed,” Geth said. “From what I could make of the Lore Coil, they were successful.”
Leven came to a stone staircase. The stairs were so infrequently used that they moaned beneath his weight as he climbed them.
Leven stopped and closed his eyes. He turned to Geth and shook his head. “I’ve been feeling Winter’s fear pulling me closer,” he said. “Now I can feel nothing.”
“Let’s hope we’re not too late,” was Geth’s only reply.
Things didn’t feel all that hopeful.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Opening Your Eyes
Leven was spent. His short time in Foo had been exhausting. And now he had climbed so many stairs his legs were burning with pain. The path to the top of Morfit was winding, dark, and endless.
Outside, a strong wind had begun to howl in and around the mountain.
Morfit rumbled.
“What’s that noise?” Leven asked.
“It’s getting ready to rain,” Clover answered.
Lightning flashed outside and tiny bits of white light glimmered, for an instant making the room look like a disco. Two seconds later, thunder boomed.
Thunder in Reality is pretty straightforward—it grumbles and fades. In Foo, however, the thunder roars awful and insulting words.
“Did it say something?” Leven asked.
“Just ignore it,” Clover said.
Lightning flashed again, and thunder roared its vulgar response.
“That’s harsh,” Leven said, having heard something in relation to his IQ. “Is it talking to me?”
“Everyone hears something different,” Clover said. “Keep going.”
“What do you hear?” Leven asked.
“Oh, it loves to call me fat,” Clover mocked. “It knows that bothers me.”
More lightning and thunder.
“Hey, I’m the perfect weight for my height!” Clover yelled back.
“I thought you said to ignore it,” Leven said, though the thunder was making him feel less than capable himself by commenting on his complexion.
Clover grunted.
“How much higher?” Leven asked. “And where is everyone? We haven’t passed a soul.”
“Nobody climbs this high,” Clover shivered. “Bad things happen at the top of Morfit.”
“Bad things?”
“Unspeakable things,” Geth added.
Lightning struck again and thunder sounded.
“Oh, yeah?” Clover hollered, shaking his fist. “Say that to my face!”
“What kind of unspeakable things?” Leven asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, it might be a good idea to know what we’re walking into.”
“I’ve heard they’ve found a way to dispose of people,” Clover said. “It’s even rumored that they know the secret of sycophants.”
“What secret?” Leven asked.
“How to get rid of us,” Clover shivered.
“I thought nobody knew—” Leven stopped talking so as to better read what he was seeing. Up the stairs, a few feet from where he stood, was a closed door with weak, white light spilling out from underneath it.
“That’s it,” Geth whispered weakly. “The White Room.”
Lightning flashed, followed by another wave of rude thunder.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Leven admitted, feeling tired and spent. “What if Winter’s . . .”
“Don’t even think it,” Geth said. “You can do this. Foo needs you. You’ll soon understand that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty and power of their dreams. This is for so much more than you can now comprehend. Remember that feeling of fate.”
Clover patted Leven on the shoulder.
Leven closed his eyes. He had changed, and he just needed his mind to believe it. Moving up the last couple of stairs, Leven reached out and took hold of the door handle. He held it in his hand for just a moment and then pulled it down.
Without a sound, the door slowly opened. Inside the room, a cylinder of bright light shone from the ceiling. Within it, lying on the floor, was a girl with red hair.
Leven blinked and looked more carefully. Then he leapt into the room and ran to her side. He knelt beside Winter and lifted her head into his lap with his invisible hand. She was covered in blood, and her clothes had been ripped to shreds.
“Winter,” Leven whispered. “Winter.”
She didn’t respond.
“Is she alive?” Clover asked.
“She’s breathing,” Leven said, pushing her hair back from her face. “But just barely.”
Leven glanced around the room. The walls and ceiling were lined with white tile. There were hooks along the walls and small, feather-covered tables beneath the hooks. In the middle of the room sat a machine. It was large, with a black leather seat and tall, thin metal handles that turned out like scythes. A thick chain lay near a footrest, and there were iron clamps where someone’s hands would go. A blue splotch of light crawled up and down the handlebars like a fat caterpillar. Next to the machine stood a black-robed being Leven had never actually met, but one he had fought before.
Jamoon said nothing but simply stood there, using his lone right eye to glare at Leven. Next to Jamoon was the large roven that had helped destroy Amelia’s house. The roven was still mostly hairless, although there were spots where new hair was beginning to grow in.
Leven wasn’t happy to see either of them, but he was even less thrilled about what else was in the room.
Up near the ceiling, thousands of black nihils were circling. Their beaks were silent, but their wings rustled ominously.
Leven’s body began to burn with anger. He gently lowered Winter to the floor and stood tall. He no longer felt fourteen. He felt as though he had lived two lifetimes in the short while he had spent in Foo. He looked to be missing an arm, but he felt complete. He felt like he was back in school, confronting the bullies—only this time he faced something much more sinister.
“Look how ripped my abs are,” Jamoon’s body-building side bragged.
Jamoon sneered at his own left side and pulled his robe closed.
“What have you done to Winter?” Leven demanded.
Jamoon cackled. “It seems she was stronger than I had anticipated. She’s alive—for the moment. Something I won’t be able to say about you soon.”
Jamoon gestured, and the nihils descended violently upon Leven. They pressed him to the ground, pecking at his closed eyes and body. Leven yelled, trying to swat them off, but there were too many to resist. Geth worked himself out of Leven’s pocket and tried to skewer the nihils with his pointed head. But before he could do so, one of the nihils clamped its beak down on Geth. It shook him violently, then rose from the fluttering pile and flapped to Jamoon.
Jamoon smiled, reaching out to pinch Geth between his fingers.
“Enough!” Jamoon ordered his birds. “I have what I want.”
The nihils stopped fluttering and pecking but continued to hold Leven down with their tiny talons. Leven looked at Jamoon.
“The great Geth,” Jamoon laughed, holding Geth in front of his face. “Your fate has certainly put you in a pathetic state.”
“You know nothing of fate,” Geth said calmly, feeling the final bits of his small body hardening. “You can’t win.”
“Can’t I?” Jamoon seethed.
“Give him back,” Leven demanded. “I’m the one you want.”
Jamoon looked at Leven and dropped Geth to the floor. Before Leven could even register what was happening, Jamoon lifted his right leg and brought the heel of his boot down hard on Geth.
“No!” Leven screamed, willing his gift to come to him so he could do something. “Leave him alone!”
The nihils were still holding Leven down.
“How sweet,” Jamoon hissed. “How touching. You care for a toothpick. We will find a way to merge Foo and we will take the gifts of every nit to use as we please in Reality. And there is nothing Geth—” Jamoon stomped his foot again—“or you can do about it. The dreams of mankind may die, but ours will be fulfilled.”
Jamoon’s birds closed around Leven’s neck and squeezed.
Jamoon raised his foot and slammed it down again. Geth screamed out. Leven fought against the nihils’ hold, but there were too many of them.
“Good-bye, Geth,” Jamoon chortled. “As for you, Leven, you have no power in this room. Your gift is useless here. And soon, we will have it permanently. It appears that Winter was the perfect draw.”
Thunder struck.
Leven’s head felt full of tar, every thought sticking to the next. Leven had understood Jamoon’s taunt about him having no gift in this room, but he could feel his abilities percolating beneath his skin and about to erupt.
Jamoon moved toward Leven. He waved the nihils out of the way and yanked Leven to his feet, then dragged him toward the machine in the middle of the room.
Winter stirred. Her eyes blinked as she lay on the floor and watched what was happening.
“No,” she whispered. “Clover, are you here?”
Clover appeared on the floor by Winter. He tried to comfort her by petting her hair as she watched Leven being hauled away.
“Pull the switch,” she whispered to Clover, “before Jamoon ties him in the seat.”
Clover glanced at the machine and spotted the large blue switch on the side. He had no idea what it did, but he wasn’t about to second-guess Winter. He jumped up and raced across the room. Jamoon was about to place Leven into the machine’s seat when Clover reached the switch and hit it as hard as he could.
There was a loud pop, and a jolt of energy blew into the wall, cracking a large section of tile. Light rained down like confetti, swirling around the machine. In the unexpected flash, Jamoon let go of Leven and staggered back as wind began to push in through the broken tile.
Clover appeared, smiling as the air whipped past him. Jamoon spotted him and hit him with the backside of his right hand, sending Clover flying into the wall.
“No!” Leven yelled.
Leven closed his eyes and let fate settle over him. He then looked up, his eyes beginning to burn.
“It’s about time,” he said to himself.
His body shook and his muscles rolled, like a monstrous wave rising up from the sea to crash on a shore. Leven looked down at the one hand that wasn’t invisible. His gray skin and black fingernails on his visible arm were trembling like coins on an active train track. Light shot from his fingertips and burst from his skin. The light in his eyes began to swirl like a tornado of fire, dispelling the black brought on by Clover’s Pigment-o and shining across the room like spotlights.
Leven turned and moved toward Jamoon, and Jamoon gasped at Leven’s glowing eyes.
“Your gift works?” he hissed. “Impossible!”
“Impossible is not a word,” Leven said, echoing Geth’s frequent saying.
Leven pointed his right hand at the cowering Jamoon, and light flashed from his fingers, striking Jamoon in his chest and hurling him across the room into the far wall.
Leven stared in disbelief at his own hands, surprised at what he could do. Then, remembering Amelia, he turned his attention to the roven. The great bird screeched and spread its mighty wings. It quickly shed the small amount of hair on its body, which fell to the floor and gathered itself into a dirty mass that surged through the air at Leven. Leven let his eyes burn, staring intensely at the hair as it rushed toward him. Every strand caught fire under his gaze, creating a fiery net that disintegrated in a shower of sparks.
Ashamed, the roven covered its naked body with its wings and turned away.
The nihils screamed and swooped wildly above everyone.
Leven closed his eyes and began to manipulate and draw in any existing wind he could envision. Air raced in through the hole in the ceiling and the crack in the wall, filling the room with noise and swirling currents, which suddenly reversed themselves, rushing back through the hole, creating a giant vacuum.
Leven opened his eyes to see Jamoon and his roven clinging desperately to anything that would hold them down. But the suction was too strong. It dragged Jamoon across the floor as the roven dug in with its claws and remained standing in shame in the shadows.
With a glance, Leven directed the wind away from Winter as she lay there nearly lifeless on the floor.
The vacuum gathered the nihils into the center of the room, sucking them into a swirling mass, suspended above the floor.
Satisfied that he had them under control, Leven stood in front of them as the terrible wind held them there.
Leven lifted his hands and stared at the decaying birds in awe. He had come a long way from the trailer park in Burnt Culvert. He was also a different person from the one who had stepped through the gateway with such doubt and lack of confidence. He finally understood Geth’s insistence that “Impossible is not a word.”
The wind tore in and out of the room, morphing and manipulating the nihils until their blackness took on a new form. The ragged form of Sabine stared at Leven with its tiny white eyes, the wind still holding it captive.
“Leven,” the dead black mass hissed. “Foolish boy.”
Leven’s eyes burned.
The light was too great; the blackness that was Sabine seethed and writhed as the glory of Leven’s stare caused him to wither and shrink. Leven closed his eyes and then opened them quickly. A fantastic flash of light shot out, exposing every inch of the room and rippling out into Foo.
There was one final, horrific scream, interrupted by a loud pop as the nihils and who they really were vanished for good.
On the far side of the room, Jamoon worked himself to his feet.
“You have ruined everything,” he screamed. “You have stolen our chance to be whole.”
“You’re wrong,” Leven said calmly, closing his eyes to suck the wind back out of the room.
Jamoon struggled to keep himself from being lifted off the floor. It was no use. Debris swirled around the room like a whirlwind, and like a black spaghetti noodle, Jamoon was suddenly sucked up through the opening.
“Leven . . .” he screamed one final time. “I’ve only got two percent body fat,” his left side added.
The wind and lightning were beating against the tower. Leven could feel the walls vibrating and the floor swaying. It felt as though the top of Morfit wouldn’t hold for much longer.
Leven hurried to Winter and lifted her up. She leaned against him, struggling for breath, but finally spoke. For some odd reason he envisioned her saying his name. Instead she whispered, “Geth.”
Leven looked around frantically, worried that the poor toothpick had been swept up by the wind.
“Don’t worry,” Clover hollered, appearing on the left of Winter. “I picked up Toothpick as soon as I could.” Clover opened his right hand to reveal Geth lying there. He wasn’t moving, but Leven didn’t have time to do more than grab Geth and stick him to the still-tacky skin of his invisible arm.
“Thank you, Clover,” Winter whispered, smiling weakly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Frozen,” Clover smiled back, giving her another nickname. “I’m fine. Jamoon can’t really harm me.”
The tower groaned and rocked under the battering of the howling wind.
Leven cas
t a warning eye on Jamoon’s roven and gestured for him to come. The shame-filled bird screeched, remaining right where it was.
“They’re not like the onicks,” Clover yelled above the noise of the storm. “He’s loyal to Jamoon even though he’s gone.”
Leven looked around frantically as if there might be another solution to their dilemma.
“We have to get Geth to the turrets now!” Leven hollered. “If not, it will be too late for him!”
Clover shrugged his shoulders and strode across the room toward the roven. The roven looked down at Clover and cocked its head in confusion. Clover swung his right foot and kicked the roven as hard as he could in the leg. The surprised beast opened its beak and screeched. It was just the reaction Clover was hoping for.
Clover leaped up and crammed himself into the giant beast’s mouth. The roven choked and staggered around as Clover worked his way down its throat. In a few seconds Clover had taken some control of the roven’s body. He walked awkwardly over to Leven.
“Are you sure about this?” Leven yelled.
The Cloven nodded.
Leven hoisted Winter onto the roven’s back, then climbed up behind her. He wrapped his legs under the belly of the bird and held onto Winter.
“Fly!” Leven yelled.
The Cloven leaped from the floor and up through the skylight, out into the dark and stormy sky.
Leven held Winter tight, and she turned her head to him. “Destroy the tower,” she said weakly.
“What?” Leven screamed.
“Destroy the tower,” she repeated, and fell unconscious again.
Leven looked back at the tower. Knowing that Winter probably wouldn’t ask him to do something just for fun, he concentrated his thoughts, manipulating all the wind in the area to gather at this exact spot. He opened his eyes and the wind obeyed, hurtling like a giant wave toward Morfit. The tower swayed but didn’t fall.
Still determined, Leven thought of his life in Reality and of the time he had chased two bullies away by manipulating lightning. Leven looked at all the light in the sky and closed his eyes to focus its force. When he opened his eyes, lightning converged from every direction, every bolt simultaneously striking the tower.
