by Obert Skye
The noises of the slapping water and of large mist eaters squawking in the air above were the only sounds as the boat darted quickly through the water. After a couple of hours Winter began to stir. She moaned and pulled at the ropes binding her to the mast as she blew bits of pitch reed from her nose.
“The rope is made from strips of dark dreams,” Geth said as she struggled. “Can you feel them buzzing on your wrists? Azure must be trading with the Children of the Sewn. There is no way to break or untie the knots except by rejoining them with the remaining pieces of the dreams from which they were made. Azure must have those.”
Winter moaned.
“I know,” Geth said. “It’s not the most comfortable position.”
The boat continued to slice through the water as mist eaters gorged on the thick fog.
“How long have I been out?” Winter finally asked, her voice low.
“I don’t know for sure,” Geth answered. “I came to a few hours ago. I think it’s still the same day.”
“Are we alone?” Winter whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Geth replied softly. “We’re on the Veil Sea, so Azure will be at the prow reading the mist. I don’t know if there are others around, but I haven’t heard anyone. Are you okay?”
“My arms and shoulders really hurt,” Winter said. “And I can’t feel my knees. How about you? I couldn’t see everything, but I could tell that Azure was not being kind as he tied you up.”
“I’m fine,” Geth said, knowing that his whole body was beaten and bruised and that at the very least he had a couple of broken ribs.
“Nice friend you have,” Winter weakly joked.
“Sorry,” Geth smiled. “He’s changed. So much has changed.”
“And we’re heading toward the Want?”
“Possibly,” Geth answered. “It feels as if the sea is taking us toward the Hidden Border—which means we are making our way either to the back side of Lith or to one of the far stones. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to see the Want. And if fate is kind the Waves will already have delivered Leven to him.”
“I hope they were easier on him than Azure was on us.”
“The Waves would never harm anyone for sport.”
“But, like you said,” Winter whispered, “so much has changed.”
“Not the Waves,” Geth said firmly.
“What are they, anyway?” Winter asked, struggling to shift enough to get some blood running to other parts of her legs.
“They have been here since the beginning—like the lithens,” Geth whispered. “They rarely show themselves. But they did fight in the metal wars, and if an enemy were to try to storm the island of Alder, he would probably get a glimpse of the Waves as they washed him away. They have fearlessly and successfully guarded the island of Alder since the dawn of Foo.”
“My head hurts,” Winter moaned.
“It’s the pitch reed you breathed in,” Geth said. “It’ll clear shortly.”
“So what’s on Alder?” Winter asked. “I mean, what’s to guard?”
“No one knows for sure,” Geth answered, struggling with the ropes tied around his wrists. “The best information we ever got was from Sabine’s shadows. The Waves couldn’t stop them from drifting over the island. But they didn’t see everything because the Waves covered the island, hiding things from them. The shadows did tell Sabine about a tree—the oldest tree in Foo.”
“A tree,” Winter said sarcastically. “That sounds important.”
Geth laughed, “Be nice to trees. Also, the Want has said—and even the Sochemists have declared—that Leven’s destiny lies on that island.”
The mist eaters began to squawk even louder. A sound like thick fists thudding against each other could be heard right above where Geth and Winter were tied. Two unconscious mist eaters fell from the air and landed directly on them. Winter choked back a scream, not knowing what had fallen on her.
“Don’t worry,” Geth said quietly. “They’re just mist eaters. They won’t hurt you.”
“Mist eaters?”
“Birds,” Geth explained. “They’re addicted to the mist. They spend their lives flying through it and eating it. The mist they eat erases all their memory and leaves them sort of drunk and stupid. Sometimes they fly into each other and knock themselves out. It happens a lot when the mist is thick. That also means we are probably getting closer to the Hidden Border.”
“Did I know all this before?” Winter asked. “Did I know all these creatures and places?”
“Yes,” Geth said as two more mist eaters ran into each other and rained down on them.
Winter flinched.
“I have to admit that I don’t really enjoy that,” she whispered.
“Wait till they come to and start pecking at you as if it was your fault they fell.”
“So, should we have a plan?” Winter asked. “For when we’re untied.”
“Fate will let us know what we need to do.”
“That’s comforting.”
“You don’t believe that?” Geth whispered.
“I want to,” Winter whispered back. “It just seems like we might be better off having some idea of what we are going to do. Fate hasn’t exactly painted us into a pretty picture.”
As if on cue, one of the mist eaters came to and began to shriek at Winter. It hopped up on her right shoulder and started pecking at the side of her head through the cloth sack, angrily scratching her shoulder with its claws.
“Owwwww,” Winter said, swinging her head sideways to try to knock the bird away.
Geth would have offered a few words of comfort, but another mist eater had come to and was now bothering him. Winter gave her bird a hard jab, pinching it between her head and shoulder. The bird scratched at her masked face and then flew off, defeated. The mist eater scratching at Geth moved behind his head and Geth slammed his head back, banging the bird against the mast and knocking it out for a second time.
“My wrists are burning,” Winter complained.
“Maybe I’ll shrink fast enough to slip out,” Geth said.
“What?” Winter asked.
“You’re nice to pretend you haven’t noticed,” Geth said kindly. “But I seem to be slowly getting smaller.”
“I thought you seemed taller before,” Winter said innocently. “I mean, after being a toothpick.”
“I don’t know what it is,” Geth said. “It’s as if I’m not whole.”
“You’ll stop shrinking eventually, won’t you?”
“I hope so,” Geth said casually.
The boat came to a stop. Geth and Winter hit their heads hard against the mast. Footsteps sounded as someone neared.
“Untie them,” Azure’s voice said.
Geth’s and Winter’s hands and ankles were untied and they were both yanked to their feet, only to fall down from having been bound in the awkward position they had suffered.
“So sorry,” Azure said. “Were you uncomfortable?” He snarled again at someone unseen, “Pick them up.”
Geth and Winter were roughly pulled up.
“Uncover their heads,” Azure said. “I like people to look at me when I’m speaking.”
Winter’s hood was ripped off, along with several hundred strands of her blonde hair. She would have screamed in pain, but the sting of the blood rushing into her legs and arms was even worse, and she just didn’t have the strength to waste on screaming.
She opened her eyes and there was Azure, his blue eyes burning with hate and a lust for all things evil. She wanted to take him by the throat, but her arms were being held back by two rants. Both rants were wearing traditional dark robes.
Winter looked at Geth. He too was imprisoned by rants.
“Where to now?” Geth asked Azure, as casually as someone wondering what ride to enjoy next at a family theme park.
“I could kill you,” Azure said coldly.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Geth replied.
“You’ve changed,” Azure snapped.
>
“So have you.”
“Always clever,” Azure complained. “Eventually the clever grow silent.”
Geth didn’t reply.
Azure nodded, and the rants began to push Geth and Winter up over the side rail and onto a walkway that led to a large wooden dock. The dock was covered with moss, and tipsy mist eaters dozily lined the thick railing that ran the length of it.
“The eleventh stone,” Geth whispered to Winter. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing the Want. We must have been out longer than I thought to have traveled this far already.”
“Quiet,” Azure ordered.
They walked along the dock and up to a small shack with a wooden gate attached to it. A large rant was manning the gate.
“Your wagon is ready,” the rant said.
“Onicks?” Azure asked.
“Twelve,” the rant answered.
Behind the gate was a wooden wagon with six wheels and twelve onicks in front of it. On the back of each onick sat a robed rider.
“Put them in the wagon,” Azure commanded his rants.
Geth was tossed and Winter lightly pushed in. As they sat up in the back, Winter could see that it was not the onicks but the riders who were tethered to the wagon. They were also latched at the waist to the onicks they were sitting on.
“The onicks aren’t hooked up,” Winter observed.
“That would be pointless,” Geth said. “An onick is loyal only to its current rider. If onicks were tied to a wagon, they would simply lie down and never get up. The riders are being forced to drive the onicks where Azure wants.”
Azure turned to Geth and motioned to his riders.
“It used to be so difficult finding steady minds to pull our wagons,” Azure said sickly. “But these nits were not only kind enough to give up their gifts, they stuck around to help us out.”
Two of the riders turned to look at Geth and Winter. Their faces beneath their hoods were gray and drawn. They looked like corpses that were wishing someone would just hurry up and bury them.
Winter’s stomach turned.
“Stealing gifts?” Geth said with disgust. “What’s happened to Foo? I demand to see the Want.”
Azure laughed. A couple of the riders nervously laughed with him.
“I suppose if there are dreams in death, perhaps the Want will see some of yours,” Azure said, scratching at his infected ear.
“What has happened to you?” Geth asked. “There’s some good left.”
“Not for long,” Azure said, tearing at his ear. He turned and looked at his riders. “Go! What are you waiting for?”
The onicks began to move down the tree-lined road. Large red birds with jagged beaks screamed at them as they moved. Occasionally the birds would jump down from where they hollered and pick up thin yellow snakes that were racing to get across the road safely.
“We have a short road trip,” Azure said, his ear bleeding from the scratching. “Enjoy the ride. It will be your last.”
Geth smiled at Azure. “Let’s see if fate agrees.”
Azure turned, swinging his kilve and clipping Geth on the side of his face. Geth’s right cheek began to bleed.
“Fate is marching toward its own death,” Azure seethed.
“Hope will help it,” Geth said firmly.
“What is up with him?” Azure barked, looking directly at Winter. “He leaves a warrior and comes back spineless. Reality’s made him weak.”
“He looks as if he’s fine with himself,” Winter said. “While you, on the other hand . . .”
“Shut up,” Azure demanded. “No more from either of you.”
Azure scratched desperately at his ear and shouted for his riders to move.
Chapter Fourteen
Completed
Everybody needs somebody. Sorry. If you were thinking you could get though life completely on your own, you’re wrong. It’s a proven fact that people need people. Sure, there are those who try to stuff their lives full of cats in an effort to fill the void, but, for the most part, people thrive, live, and do better if their existences are full of interaction with other humans.
Some people find people to interact with at school. Some people run with people they meet at church. Work is a half-decent place to find acquaintances. Or maybe one day last May you were flying a kite in Central Park and a couple of nice people commented on how high the kite was, and that sparked a conversation that led to the three of you having dinner together at a small restaurant in Times Square and then catching a Broadway show about friendly cats. That could have happened—which just goes to show you that, either way, you are going to end up surrounded by cats.
Let’s hope you’re not allergic.
Dennis, unfortunately, had nobody. He had never had anybody. It was as if, throughout his entire life, fate had been preparing him to be able to disappear without a single person noticing or caring about his absence. After the building housing Snooker and Woe had crossed the street and settled on the opposite corner, few people had even thought of Dennis again. Snooker and Woe had since set up temporary quarters in an older office complex until they could get a new building built. In all the craziness and moving, only one person had ever mentioned Dennis, and that was a secretary who was sick of the copy machine breaking and wished “that one guy” was around to fix it. It was a pathetic mention, but Dennis would have been touched had he known that someone was thinking of him.
Now Dennis was simply a shell that Sabine was riding around in. And Dennis was about to take over the world.
“Is it done?” Dennis asked, as he and Tim and Ezra stood in the abandoned farmhouse they had called home for the last little while.
“Yes,” Tim said, pointing to the new gateway.
Dennis walked around the box, inspecting the craftsmanship. The gateway was a little over six feet tall and five feet wide. It was also four feet deep. It was made of thin metal sheeting and had a large iron hook welded to the top. Inside of it on the base sat the uneven sidewalk they had dug up in Munich. Dennis looked inside the box at the pieces of the two mismatched sections of sidewalk.
“These weren’t altered in the least?”
“Not at all,” Tim said. “They’re resting in the exact same position as they were on the street.”
“Excellent,” Dennis hissed evilly. “Excellent!”
Dennis began to laugh, the dark images sliding like pudding across his skin. His cackle rang through the room and made Tim shiver. Ezra, on the other hand, was unimpressed and in the mood to humble Dennis.
“You’ve got something on your face,” Ezra said, pointing to Dennis’s chin. “It’s white like frosting from dinner.”
Dennis self-consciously wiped at his chin.
“Higher,” Ezra said.
“Now?”
“Higher still.”
“Ahhhh,” Dennis raged, wiping at his whole face and turning to go. “We’ll load the box at dark and head to the water as soon as the moment is right. Foo will be ours soon.”
“It’s still there,” Ezra mocked. “Right above your mouth.”
Dennis reached out and flicked Ezra across the room. Ezra grabbed ahold of Tim’s ball cap as he flew over him.
Dennis left the room.
“Coward,” Ezra spat.
Tim reached up and pulled Ezra from his hat. He stared at the angry toothpick in his hand.
“What?” Ezra challenged. “Someone’s got to say something, and it certainly isn’t you. Gutless.”
Tim shrugged.
“Do you think he’ll really keep you around when you get to Foo?” Ezra growled. “No. He’ll take back the part of him you’re borrowing and then bury you deep in the soil of Foo.”
Tim was silent.
“Nice rebuttal, chatty,” Ezra snapped. “Of course, I also know that he will never let me be restored. He’s keeping me around until Geth is confronted, when I’m sure he plans to destroy me. But I, unlike you, am not stupid enough to just let it happen.”
Tim l
ooked at Ezra.
“I know something,” Tim struggled to whisper.
“There’s a statement that needs some evidence,” Ezra challenged, moving up Tim’s right arm to stand on his shoulder. “What could you possibly know?”
“There’s a part of me he doesn’t control,” Tim said laboriously.
“Is there, now?” Ezra said, lifting himself up to Tim’s ear and looking in. “What are you hiding in there?”
“I hate him,” Tim said.
Ezra smiled. “That’s a start,” he whispered. “He has control of you, but if you stick with me, we might be able to have the last word in Foo.”
Tim rubbed his forehead as if in pain. He looked at his arm. Thick black lines spiraled around it. Tim hated how much he loved the feel of that blackness.
“There is a part of me he doesn’t control,” Tim said again.
“Brilliant,” Ezra mocked. “You can repeat yourself.”
Dennis pushed through the door back into the room.
“I’ll be in the water working to ready the attachment,” Dennis announced. “I’ll expect to find you both here when I return.”
Tim nodded as Ezra executed a far less cordial gesture.
Chapter Fifteen
Unfortunately, We Are Family
Sycophant Run was calm. The wind blew lightly as a yellow sky ran sideways and dripped over and down between bright, puffy hazen. The fantrum trees covering the Worm Worn Mountains pushed gigantic purple blossoms out of their highest leaves, announcing the arrival of evening. In only a few minutes the blossoms changed the look of the mountains’ canopy from a deep green to a tragic purple. Tea birds nested in the blossoms, rubbing themselves against the tiny seeds and petals the flowers produced.
Rast would have loved to stop and take it all in. Evening to him was the finest time on Sycophant Run. It was a time when the lights dimmed and the laughter increased as all sycophants began to celebrate the closing of another day. The cloistered sycophants were sounding the wooden bells, pounding out a rhythm that echoed softly throughout their part of Foo.
