by Obert Skye
That did the trick.
The tower exploded, sending a shower of rocks and debris hundreds of feet into the air.
The Cloven screeched.
“Fly!” Leven hollered again.
The beast flapped its great wings, soaring ever higher.
Leven pulled Geth from off of his sticky arm and looked at his friend in his hand.
“Geth,” Leven screamed.
Geth’s mouth moved slightly, and Leven leaned in to hear what he was trying to say.
“You did it,” Geth gasped.
“I’m not done yet,” Leven said, tucking Geth into his pocket and commanding Clover to pick up his speed.
Clover threaded his way through the rain and lightning, his wings beating hard against the stormy air. Winter stirred, but remained out cold as Leven closed his eyes and attempted to see the future. He wanted to see if Geth would survive until they could get him to the flame. He wanted to know if Winter would be okay and where they would all be tomorrow and if they would be safe. But all he could see was confusion and rain playing to the sound of insulting thunder.
Clover made a sharp turn and sped up. As he did so, the key Leven had had tied on a leather string around his neck flew out of his shirt collar. Leven caught it and pushed it back into his shirt as quickly as he could.
Clover put the roven into a steep, diving turn. As he did so, the clouds opened up, and Leven caught a glimpse of Fissure Gorge far below them. The bottom of the gorge looked a million miles away.
In the distance Leven could also see the flames from the turrets.
“Faster!” Leven ordered.
The Cloven beat its mighty wings, then tucked them in, aiming for the pillar of flame.
As they drew closer, Leven could see that the fire was burning in the center of a formation of twelve stone turrets. Each turret was at least fifty feet high and covered with thick purple vines. Near the top of each tower was an opening big enough for a person to stand in, and the fire caused the inner side of each turret to glow orange. Surrounding the turrets was a large circular river. In the far distance, Leven could see the gatehouse and the fence he had slept near.
“Hold on, Geth,” Leven said. “We’re going down.”
If there was a trace of life left in Geth, it didn’t show. His features were as still as petrified wood. Leven wouldn’t have it; clenching Geth in his palm, he hollered at Clover to fly into the flame.
Clover did as he was told.
The Cloven’s giant wings glowed as he entered and hovered in the flame. Leven secured Winter under the braided harness and then he dropped off the beast, with Geth in his palm, down into the fire.
Clover flew off, leaving Leven hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, held up by the strength of the flame.
The fire licked at him, but it did not burn. Leven opened his palm just enough to see Geth.
“You can’t die!” Leven yelled. “You are a lithen, and the last heir to Foo. You are Geth,” Leven screamed. “You can’t die. I need you!”
Leven let go of Geth and watched as he seemed to float in the flame. In a moment the fire caught onto him and ignited his whole body. Leven was tempted to reach out and grab Geth back, but he knew that this was the only chance.
In a few seconds Geth was gone, nothing but light ashes drifting down through the flame.
Leven closed his eyes and let the fire wrap around him and lower him closer to the ground. Leven was descending, as if in a fiery elevator. Remarkably, there was heat, but he didn’t burn, and as he got closer to the heart of the flame, it seemed to thicken and absorb his fall. In a few moments Leven was low enough to jump from the flame to the ground.
He stood to the side and watched as the flame slowly diminished and was finally sucked with a swoosh back into the soil until another day. All that remained was a pile of white-hot coals.
There was no Geth.
Leven was pulled from his thoughts by the screams and cries of Clover in the form of a roven. He landed near Leven, and Winter weakly slid off his back and into Leven’s arms. Leven held her, propping her up.
“Where’s Geth?” she asked sadly, looking at Leven as if she had never seen him before.
“The fire consumed him,” Leven said, confused. “Is that what’s supposed to happen?”
Winter blinked, barely able to stand. Leven closed his glowing eyes and let the feeling of hope and possibility that Geth had always preached settle over him. Leven’s mind was strangely calm. He somehow felt this was a beginning, not an end.
The Cloven screeched, and Leven opened his eyes.
A cluster of red, glowing embers was drifting down through the last wisps of rising smoke.
Leven and Winter stepped back and watched as the embers settled onto the coals, which began to stir and swirl. There was a flash of light, and as it dimmed, Leven could see shapes forming. There were feet and legs and suddenly there were arms. The light returned, shimmering around the body as it came into complete form.
There, standing in the coals, was a man.
“Geth?” Leven whispered, amazed that what he now saw had once been a toothpick.
Geth stepped from the coals and dusted himself off.
Geth was taller than Leven by a foot, and he was smiling warmly. His blue eyes positively glowed with life. He was wearing a dark green robe over a black suit of leather, and his hair was dark blond and long.
Leven had never seen a more intimidating being. Though Geth was a man, beautiful was the word that came to mind.
“Geth,” Winter whispered.
“This feels a lot better,” Geth smiled. “Much, much better.”
He stepped closer and took both Leven and Winter in his arms.
“You did it,” Geth said.
Winter was crying, Leven was trying not to, and Geth was lifting them both, his heart filled with hope again.
Clover tried to walk the roven closer, but he was losing control of the beast’s body. Clover popped his head out of the roven’s mouth and smiled at Geth.
“You’re taller than I remembered,” Clover said.
The roven coughed, propelling Clover out of its mouth and onto the ground. The angry beast shook its ugly head, screeched defiantly, and then flew away just as the ground below Leven, Geth, and Winter began to tremble and roll.
The sound of rushing water and splintering wood filled the air. In the darkness, buildings began to rise from the earth all around them. Small homes and shops popped up from the ground like structural mushrooms.
Leven took Winter’s hand and steadied himself as the soil folded open and walls formed around them. A ceiling closed itself over all of them, and an old woman was there standing by an oven.
“What’s happening?” Leven asked.
“The flame is restoring all that was lost,” Geth said. “In a matter of minutes the fight for Foo will be closer to where it was before Sabine cursed me. What you see now is the City of Geth and all who occupied it at the time of Sabine’s curse.”
“The City of Geth?” Leven said proudly.
Geth just smiled, while through the windows Leven could see home after home popping back up. Leven’s heart swelled so large he was afraid it was going to burst and mess up the whole scene. He looked at Winter and saw she was crying.
“Unbelievable,” he said, smiling.
Winter could barely stand, but she leaned on Leven and smiled back. She couldn’t believe how different Leven looked. He was taller, and looked at least a couple of years older.
Windows and walls continued to form around them as the City of Geth worked its way back to what it once was. People popped up from nowhere, unaware that they had been trapped in a static state. The old woman by the oven simply continued cooking, oblivious to any memory of having been anywhere but right there over the last while.
Geth led Leven, Winter, and Clover out of the house that had formed around them and down to the road. Legions of regal-looking soldiers marched in the streets.
�
��Amazing,” Winter said. “Look, Lev, everything’s so lovely.”
A bright sun was just rising, illuminating trees and gardens of beautiful flowers, sparkling with morning dew. Cobblestone streets formed, lined with quaint cottages and impressive public buildings. Leven could see the silhouettes of a thousand homes and buildings rising from the ground.
Geth looked down at Leven and Winter. Clover appeared on Leven’s shoulder. He had a big grin on his face.
“Remember when you were a toothpick?” Clover asked.
Geth laughed and rested his hand on Leven’s shoulder.
Leven had never felt happier.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Construction Begins
Tim pulled the last of the lumber out of the rented truck. Then, together, he and Dennis carried the building materials around the gasthaus and to a small abandoned barn not too far from the lake’s shore. Tim was still trying to digest the story Dennis had told him earlier.
Foo?
Gateway?
Impossible!
Tim would have walked away from it all, simply thinking Dennis was crazy, but Dennis had known about Leven and seemed convinced a new gateway could be created. Plus, Dennis had shown Tim an angry, bent-in-half, talking toothpick. Tim now figured anything was possible.
Tim and Dennis had traveled to the nearest town and purchased a number of supplies to build a box that they would then place in the water to travel to an unknown destination hidden in everyone’s brain. It was hard to believe, but Tim could think of no other explanation for some of the things he had seen and learned.
They stacked the wood up against the barn wall. Tim looked up at the night stars and then glanced down at Dennis, wondering why in the world he was putting so much trust in such an odd individual.
Dennis had on his tattered black robe and his wrinkle-proof pants. On the front of the robe he had placed his bank sticker. Dennis stood as if the entire ensemble made him invincible—his bald head shining under the light of the moon.
“So we build a box, fix it to the lake floor, and swim in?” Tim asked. “That’s it?”
Dennis looked confused. Luckily for him, he was wearing Sabine. Sabine hissed up through Dennis’s skin and out his mouth.
“We’ll need a mismatched piece of ground,” he breathed, trying hard to be civil, but sounding like an angry kitten.
Dennis began to writhe and scream. His black robe fluttered and whipped wildly about him. Dennis fell to the ground and lay there perfectly still. Sabine could feel that the last essence of him in Foo was no longer.
After a few moments, Dennis opened his eyes to find Tim hovering over him anxiously. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching to help Dennis up.
“Fine,” Sabine said out of Dennis. Dennis added a small hand wave to make it more convincing.
“So where do we find a mismatched piece of ground?” Tim asked.
Again Dennis looked confused.
Tim filled the silence himself.
“I guess we’ll just build the box and worry about that when we get to it,” he said enthusiastically.
“Excellent,” Dennis hissed.
“I guess it’s not too late to get started tonight,” Tim added.
Dennis smiled and fought the urge to throw his head back and laugh wickedly. He won the battle with himself by placing his right hand over his mouth and pretending to cough.
Tim picked up a hammer.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Calm
Leven had never seen so much food. The large table in the center of the room was covered with meat-filled platters and deep dishes of whipped roots and potatoes. Gravy boats drifted among the islands of bread, filled to the rim with dark, savory sauces. Carrots the size of small, closed umbrellas, sprinkled with parsley, lay stacked like wood in a large dish, butter melting slowly over them.
The aromas were delicious.
Leven looked around the table in the immense dining hall of Geth’s magnificent castle. Next to him sat Winter. The red had faded from her blonde hair, and she had her green eyes open and on full display as she took in the delectable sights and delightful smells.
Leven took her hand and squeezed it. “You okay?” he asked.
Winter smiled, pushing her hair behind her ears.
It was miraculous that she was even alive. Sadly, her gift had been stolen. It was a terrible thing for a nit to lose her gift, and Leven knew it would take some time before Winter was truly healed. He had already promised her that he would do whatever he could to get her gift back.
Leven looked past Winter to Geth. Geth was busy making up for all the food he had been denied as a toothpick.
Leven laughed, watching him.
He thought of the feelings he had for the small toothpick and the joy he had experienced at being able to see Geth as he really was. Foo felt safer with Geth and his city restored.
Geth had promised Leven he could have a couple of days to rest, but after that they would be leaving Niteon and heading to Lith. Geth felt it was time for Leven to meet the Want.
“Are you getting enough?” Leven asked Geth.
“No,” Geth answered, with a full mouth.
“You might want to use your old self to clean your teeth when you’re done eating,” Clover said from across the table.
In the last couple of days Clover had thought up, and used, every toothpick joke imaginable.
“Have I used that one before?” Clover asked.
“Yes,” they all answered.
Next to Clover was an empty chair. It reminded Leven of Amelia. He had known her for such a short while, but he felt like less of a person with her now gone. He hoped wherever she was, she was with Hector and happy. He wanted her to know that as he fought for Foo he wouldn’t let her down. She would always be in his heart.
Leven also thought of the whisp he and Clover had found in the woods. In a small way he could relate to her. She had been snatched from everything she knew and put down in a place she had never even dreamed of. He had already talked to Geth about trying to find her. It was another one of the things they had to accomplish.
Jamoon had not been found. He was assumed dead, since his falling had been an accident of sorts. Already the Sochemists had sent out two waves of locusts informing the residents of Foo that all was well and Morfit was still in control.
Geth had been monitoring incoming dreams and trying to figure out if there was any truth to the rumor that someone in Reality was constructing a new gateway. Geth felt the chances were slim, but knew it was possible, if the one constructing it had the right brain. Geth had also reported that so many of the dreams coming into Foo at the moment were showing signs of changes in Reality—buildings moving, planes landing upside down, and huge dirt avalands showing up all over. It seemed as if Reality was showing the first signs of the war it didn’t yet know about.
Leven looked down at himself. He touched his new black shirt and could feel the key hanging beneath it. He had still not shown it to Geth or Winter, but he and Clover had studied it for hours. Clover had said over and over that it was probably just a useless key and that Leven should just give it to him to throw away. Leven wasn’t falling for it. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew he’d be wise to hold on to it.
He had no idea just how right he was.
Leven looked at Geth and Winter and Clover and the empty chair. The sight and smell of food filled his senses to the point where he thought they might burst.
Leven stood and struck his glass with his wooden spoon. All eyes turned to him.
“Just a few weeks ago, I was in Oklahoma, wishing my life was more interesting,” Leven said, smiling at each of his friends. “Thanks for making it so full.”
Each raised his or her glass, and Geth smiled. “Hear, hear!” he shouted.
Outside of Geth’s castle the purple night sky pulsated and the stars cheered.
Afterword
The Whispered Secret
Moonlight fl
ooded the room like a heavenly night-light. Leven had never been in a more comfortable bed. Outside his half-opened window the leaves of a cluster of fantrum trees rustled softly in the dark breeze. The trees closest to his window tapped against the top of the glass, as if summoning Leven to sneak out.
Leven wasn’t going anywhere except to sleep.
Leven could smell the sweet air flowing in through the window and dancing around the room. The gold glow from his eyes made the black ribbons of breeze visible.
The night felt somehow different. Leven figured it was because Clover wasn’t around. Clover had been begging for the last couple of days for Leven to let him return to untie the onick and to go to the tharms’ cave and free all the captured sycophants. Clover had insisted that it would take no more than a day, and that if he went invisibly and alone he could be in and out with no problem. Leven had told Clover he could do whatever he wanted, but that wasn’t good enough. So, Clover kept on begging. Finally, Leven had insisted that Clover go.
Now Leven wished he hadn’t agreed.
Leven pulled his thick blanket up and closed his eyes. The breeze outside moaned softly. Leven fluffed up his pillows and repositioned his head. He looked down the length of the bed to where his feet were. He didn’t remember ever sleeping in a really comfortable bed. The single bed on the porch where Terry and Addy had stuck him was lumpy and narrow, and the bridge Leven and Winter had slept under was even worse. Now, here he was, these last few days sleeping in a bed bigger than himself with a mattress that could give marshmallows pointers.
Leven sighed, and for a moment life seemed good.
It’s funny how fleeting those moments can be.
Sleep settled over Leven like new snow as a soft whisper blew into the room through the half-opened window. The whisper moaned, swooping around the room like an undisciplined tornado.
Leven’s tired eyes blinked open, and he looked toward the window as a thick patch of night sky began crawling in. It would have been impossible to see if not for the light color of the walls. The image reminded Leven of the air in Fissure Gorge.
