Leven Thumps: The Complete Series

by Obert Skye

She had not even extended her arms in Reality. Now, she was unable to touch or reach in any fashion. She desperately wanted to hold Osck, or feel the ground, or even comb her hair.

  Janet wanted to reach.

  She could see Winter in her mind, and she began to cry.

  “I’m not sure it’s wise to be near you when you are dripping,” Osck said, afraid the tears might affect his fiery skin.

  “They might hurt you if they were real,” Janet said, foolishly wiping at the non-tears on her cheeks.

  “Why are you doing that?” Osck asked kindly.

  “I ruined my chance in Reality,” Janet said with embarrassment. “I lost my own daughter.”

  “Well, then, the war will give you another go,” Osck said seriously. “The Sochemists have promised an end to our pain.”

  Janet smiled at Osck. Never in a billion years would she have thought that she would end up sitting next to someone like him. And never in a trillion years would she have thought that she would allow herself to care for something like him.

  “You’ll get a second chance,” Osck reaffirmed.

  Janet smiled sincerely, and from that moment on she was a changed whisp. She was fully and wholeheartedly committed to the war. True, she had no real idea whom she would be fighting, or what it would take to win, but she knew she would give up everything for the chance to reach one more time.

  ii

  The day was spectacular. Warm weather had settled into the valley, and tourists by the hundreds had descended upon Berchtesgaden to eat fish and listen to the echo of the trumpets. Boats moved across the water constantly, taking people to St. Bartholomew’s Cathedral to look at the lake from a different angle and wait for a ride back. The smell of fried fish and sound of polka music filled the light blue sky.

  It had been a full twelve hours since anything odd had been reported in the world, and people felt a bit of hope creeping back into their lives.

  The green water lay flat, like an emerald mirror, and swans hovered around the docks hoping that the generosity of men would move tourists to toss bread crumbs and fill their gullets.

  It would have taken someone with binoculars and nothing interesting to look at to notice a small, bubbling circle near the far edge of the lake.

  From out of the bubbles rose a very wet and browbeaten Dennis.

  “You call that swimming?” Ezra spat, shaking water from his tassel. “If I had a newborn baby sister wearing a tutu and a tiara, she would have swum less girllike.”

  “I’m not a good swimmer,” Dennis apologized.

  “You can thank me for pointing that out,” Ezra said angrily.

  “It doesn’t work,” Dennis said. “You saw me. I stood there on the bottom of it. The gateway doesn’t work.”

  Dennis was back to his old self. Every bit of Sabine had been blown from him and destroyed. He still had faint lines covering his body, but they didn’t move and were no longer black.

  The experience of being controlled by Sabine had also left Dennis with a bit of a backbone. It was as if a part of him remembered being aggressive and now wasn’t about to let go of the feeling. He still wore his white shirt and wrinkle-proof pants. The water had washed his sticker off.

  “Leave it to you to build something faulty,” Ezra barked. “I wish I had listened to myself.”

  “It wasn’t just me that built it,” Dennis pointed out. “Where’s that other guy?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy with the baseball cap.”

  “It’s not ringing a bell,” Ezra said, bothered.

  “The one you stabbed and made fall on me?”

  “Tony?”

  “Maybe,” Dennis faltered.

  “I think he’s dead.”

  Dennis looked down at the ground.

  Ezra shook. He looked at Dennis and blinked his single eye.

  Ezra couldn’t remember his birth. He knew he had come from the tree that had stood as Geth. He also knew that Geth had tossed him aside, leaving Ezra to deal with all the hatred and anger Geth had once possessed. Ezra could also remember bits and pieces of Foo. He had thought meeting up with Sabine was fateful, but now he could see that the fate involved was much more subtle. Ezra hated to admit it, but he seemed to have learned something.

  Ezra’s tiny body burned.

  He had been getting stronger every hour. His enamel body made him almost unbreakable. Now, if he could just suffocate his hate long enough to interpret his feelings, he would be able to understand the impressions of Foo that were coming on stronger and stronger every minute.

  “I think I know something,” Ezra seethed.

  “Like what?” Dennis asked, unstrapping his oxygen tank.

  “Your mouth is moving,” Ezra mocked, ignoring Dennis’s question. “There’s something I know.”

  “I’ve had that feeling before,” Dennis admitted.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Ezra sneered. “Now, if you’ll please push up your lower jaw and stare into another direction.”

  Dennis closed his mouth and turned around as Ezra struggled with his own mind. There was something Geth now knew that very few others did.

  “Geth,” Ezra growled. “What a pile of flesh.”

  “Do you remember what you know yet?” Dennis asked, still facing the other direction.

  “Quiet,” Ezra yelled.

  “I could swim to the gateway again,” Dennis said, trying to appease Ezra.

  “Why don’t you do that,” Ezra said angrily. “But this time don’t take any air, and chain yourself to the bottom of it until it works.”

  “But then . . . oh,” Dennis replied, getting the implication of Ezra’s words.

  The sound of trumpets echoing off the mountains filled the air. It was so calming that Ezra forgot Dennis’s less-than-snappy comeback. Squirrels ran down a nearby tree, and a car horn sounded in the far distance.

  Ezra’s thoughts cleared. There had been a few times in his life when he had felt a connection to Geth. He knew he had come from him, but for the most part Ezra felt only hatred and spite for the person who had left him to be the angry toothpick he now was. But in this one clear moment, Ezra could feel that somewhere Geth had just learned something so huge that the knowledge was affecting even Ezra.

  “There’s a second gateway,” Ezra said suddenly, the statement popping out of his mouth like a well-cooked piece of toast.

  “What?” Dennis asked excitedly.

  “There’s a second gateway,” Ezra said deliciously, rubbing his tiny hands together. “Of course there is. Thank you, Geth, and your weak, surprised emotions.”

  “Is this gateway near?”

  Ezra looked Dennis up and down. “Why? Scared of a little effort?” he snipped.

  “No, I was—”

  “Was is such a stupid word,” Ezra said. “I don’t know where the gateway is exactly, but I know what direction we should head. We are going to go . . .”

  Ezra pointed.

  “West?” Dennis asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ezra said defensively. “Is that west?”

  Dennis turned and looked around, as did Ezra.

  “I thought west was that direction?” Ezra said. “Over those trees.”

  “No, that’s east,” Dennis said, pointing. “North, east, south, and west—’never eat soggy waffles.’”

  Ezra stared at Dennis with rage in his single eye. “What holds the top of your head up?”

  Dennis looked down.

  “We are going west,” Ezra said.

  Dennis shrugged and picked Ezra up. “What about Tony?” Dennis asked.

  “He had his chance to be evil,” Ezra spat. “Good riddance.”

  “I don’t know that I actually want to be evil either,” Dennis admitted.

  “Oh, right,” Ezra corrected. “How about I’m evil and you get to experience something besides cleaning out sinks and emptying trash cans?”

  “Sounds fair,” Dennis said.

  Never had Ezra wished more for his
own ability to walk better. Unfortunately for him, Dennis was necessary. There were some large limitations to being a toothpick. Ezra simply had to play nice until he got to where he needed to be and who he needed to become. Then, and only then, would Ezra finally be able to be himself.

  Chapter Thirty

  A Reversal of Proportion

  Clover had stayed invisible but close to the Want. He had followed the Want through three tunnels, an endless wing of his house, and an outdoor garden that stretched upward for miles.

  It was cold outside, and the temperature was dropping. The landscape on the edge of the gardens rolled like grassy waves. They were nearing the highest point of Lith, heading into the roundlands. The purple sky became gray with thin bands of gold weaving in and out of it. A set of brick stairs wound around and through the wide, humpbacked terrain. In the darkening sky, large numbers of rovens flew in all directions.

  The Want was climbing the stairs with purpose, talking to himself. “Dreams are beginning,” he said. “Take this and go.”

  There had been more than a hundred times when Clover had wished he could materialize and tell the Want to keep quiet. But Clover had seen enough of the Want’s endearing personality to realize that bossing him around was probably a foolish idea.

  The Want had placed the box with Leven in his robe and not brought it out since. Clover thought about trying to steal it away, but he felt certain he would not succeed. He was pretty sure that even though the Want had said nothing to acknowledge it, he knew that Clover was there. Leven was Clover’s burn, and there was no way Clover would leave him at a time like this.

  The wind picked up, and frosty black hazen drifted in circles around the roundlands. Clover looked back. The only bit of the Want’s home he could now see was the tower room that they had been in earlier.

  “Taste what you wish,” the Want screamed to nobody in particular. “The pain will be in the digestion.”

  The brick stairs crested the top of Lith, giving Clover a great view of the island’s highest ground. The roundlands were beautifully barren. Long grass swirled in flat circles under the fading sky while small cats sprinted like cheetahs in straight lines of four. A line of them crossed directly in front of the stairs. The Want waved his kilve and the creatures scattered in a flash.

  Clover felt good about his decision to stay invisible.

  In the distance the top of a large castle appeared, its skyline looking like square teeth in an expansive mouth of sky. The castle had large white flags flying from its three turrets. Emblazoned on each flag was the black silhouette of a roven skull.

  The massive castle seemed to rise from the depths of Lith as they got closer. It stood as a dark, structured mountain. Backlit by the gold in the sky, the castle looked formidable and lonely.

  “Feed yourself,” the Want waved at the wind. “Reach in my pockets and lose your life.”

  Clover felt good about his decision not to try to steal the box.

  Two giant rovens flew low through the sky and landed on the top of the castle, screeching.

  “Wicked, wicked dreams,” the Want moaned. “How dare the human mind dream such things?”

  The brick stairs led to the front of the castle, where a thin stream of robed nits were climbing off of rovens and making their way in.

  The nits walked slowly, as if being drawn in by some unseen energy. The Want waved his hand, and they scattered in a flash of white light.

  The castle door opened up and the Want walked through. All those in his way moved to the sides and corners to avoid his presence. The sound of chanting echoed off the walls.

  The Want stepped off into a big room. A large, roaring fire was growling in the corner, and two furry chairs and a small table sat in the center of the room. The Want walked to the table and took the box from his robe. He set it down carelessly. He then waved, as if shooing away half a dozen flies, and walked out of the room.

  Clover waited a good thirty seconds before he materialized near the box. He fumbled with the latch and opened it quickly.

  There was a small doll stretched out facedown in the box. It took Clover a couple of seconds to register that the doll was actually Leven.

  Leven moaned.

  Clover reached in carefully and gripped Leven around the waist. He pulled gently at first, but when that didn’t work Clover tugged as hard as he could, ripping Leven from the box.

  Leven screamed, still groggy from all the pain he had recently experienced.

  Clover held him up and looked him over. Leven was covered in splotches of his own blood and smelled like the trash piles near Morfit. His clothes were wet with blood and his pants were ripped. The front of his hair looked ragged and torn.

  Clover looked back in the box and realized that he had ripped some of Leven’s hair off when he yanked him out.

  “Sorry,” Clover said.

  Leven only mumbled.

  “Are you okay?” Clover asked.

  “Perfect,” Leven slurred, still trying to regain his composure.

  “What was in that box?” Clover questioned, looking down into it.

  “Bugs,” Leven managed to say. “And fruit.”

  “That explains the smell,” Clover sniffed.

  Leven glared at Clover with tiny glowing gold eyes.

  “What?” Clover said self-consciously.

  “I’m four inches tall.”

  Clover smiled. “Here,” he said excitedly. “Try sitting on my shoulder.”

  “What?”

  “Like you’re my sycophant.”

  “That’s okay,” Leven said. “Will this wear off?”

  “I have no idea,” Clover shrugged, looking hurt. “The power of the Want is different from any other force in Foo. He can enter the shores of Sycophant Run anytime he pleases. Our claws have no effect on him.”

  “Claws?” Leven asked.

  Clover blushed. “Most sycophants get temporary claws while serving as posted pegs on Sycophant Run. Every sycophant, male and female, spends five years protecting our land. Here, just let me try to balance you on my head?”

  “No,” Leven insisted. “Where are we?”

  “The roundlands on top of Lith.”

  “Are we far from where Phoebe is trapped?”

  “She’s far beneath us,” Clover answered.

  The door opened and Clover disappeared. The Want strode across the room as if his backside were on fire, the door closing soundly behind him. His eyes were still covered. In his right hand he held a folded robe. He stopped and looked at the open box. Leven stood there on the table trying not to look as weak and pathetic as he actually was.

  “Where are we?” Leven asked.

  “Quiet!” the Want said nervously.

  “Where are Geth and Winter?”

  “You have no need to ask such questions,” the Want commanded. “There’s an evil greater than you or I sneaking up on us even as we speak. You must be ready.”

  “I can’t be ready like this,” Leven pointed out.

  The Want’s body bubbled in and out, dimples and bumps the size of melons collapsing and billowing all over his body. He pulled his hood down and blew out.

  Leven’s arms began to swell. His legs stretched and his chest and shoulders inflated like a folded balloon. He could feel a strong wind moving into his head and fingers. It felt like if he were to clip his nails, he would slowly leak air.

  In a matter of moments Leven was as tall as, if not taller than, he had ever been. He looked down and noticed that his right foot was still tiny.

  Leven cleared his throat and pointed to his foot.

  The Want sighed and Leven’s foot expanded to normal. Leven fell back into one of the chairs.

  “Give me grief again and you will go back in the box,” the Want moaned, wind puckering through the depressions in his body. “We’ve no time for your slow stride or delay. The darkness rises from the soil even as we stand.”

  Leven was tempted to point out that he was sitting.

 
The Want handed Leven the folded robe. “Put this on,” he said. “We’ll not want anyone recognizing you.”

  Leven put the robe on.

  The doors blew open and amber light flooded the room and spilled up against the stone walls. The light crept up the walls like a rising watermark.

  “The rage begins,” the Want said.

  “The rage?”

  “Thousands have gathered to feast on the chaos of dreams,” the Want said. “This castle is a conduit for dreams, and those who are addicted to the lives of others gather nightly to taste the wants of those in Reality.”

  “Will I see a dream?” Leven asked, still never having experienced that for himself.

  “You have not seen any?” the Want asked suspiciously.

  Leven shook his head.

  “Brilliant,” the Want smiled. “Fate’s a sneaky ride. You may very well see one tonight. Now, do you remember what I have told you?”

  “About dreams?” Leven asked.

  The Want howled and beat his own arms. “No!” he insisted. “About your purpose.”

  “Tonight?” Leven asked, bile rising in his throat.

  “Yes,” the Want said. “Even now, the evil rises above the soil like a weed. You must choke it out.”

  “I don’t know what to do—”

  “Stop,” the Want ordered. “You stand here for no other reason than to accomplish the task at hand. You destroyed the gateway, killed Sabine, and finished Jamoon so that you could stand where you now do and put to rest the real evil—the very voices that whisper from beneath the dust. Understand?”

  Leven didn’t say anything.

  “You must trust me.”

  Leven nodded.

  “You will be surrounded by darkness,” the Want whispered. “You will hear my voice in the dark, and as it sounds, an object will be placed before your feet. Use it.”

  “I need to know what I’m doing,” Leven said nervously. “It’s one thing to face evil and attack it, but it is another to have to trust the words of someone I barely know.”

  “Perhaps it would help you to know that what you will do will save the lives of Geth and Winter,” the Want said.

  “It won’t harm them?”

  “It’ll be your one chance to see them again.”