Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

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Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo Page 88

by Obert Skye


  “The key!” it shrieked.

  “No,” Leven yelled, turning to hold the shadow around its neck.

  The shadow disappeared and reappeared, holding Leven in the same position.

  “You can’t defeat me,” the shadow hissed.

  Leven tried clapping his hands, remembering how he had gotten rid of Sabine’s shadows. The trick didn’t work. Leven was not surprised, as the Want’s single shadow was so much more substantive and humanlike.

  “I need the key!” The shadow tore at Leven’s robe, grasping for the key that hung around his neck.

  Leven pulled himself up onto his knees and swung, plowing a hole right through the shadow. The dark form screamed as the hole filled back in.

  It was so dark that at times Leven couldn’t even see what he was fighting. But he could feel the shadow grasping at the key and trying to pull it off of his neck.

  Leven pushed forward, shoving the shadow up two stairs and into a wall. The wall, already weakened from the rumbling ground of Lith, pushed out. Leven and the shadow rolled into a half-collapsed room with no roof.

  Leven wriggled from the shadow and kicked it in the jaw as he stood up. The shadow flew back, disappeared in a puff of black, and reappeared two inches in front of Leven, sending a swift kick to Leven’s gut. As Leven bent to breathe, the shadow ripped the leather cord from around his neck. Leven reached out, grabbing the key as it was being pulled away. He yanked the key so hard that the leather strap broke, leaving him with the key and the shadow with the cord.

  Leven clutched the key as tightly as he could.

  The Want’s shadow stood there staring at Leven’s closed fist.

  “It’s mine,” the shadow hissed.

  “I don’t think so,” Leven panted.

  “I held it and I want it back,” the shadow screeched. “He who casts me is a fool to have let it go.”

  The shadow lunged, tearing at Leven’s clenched fingers. Leven pulled back and the shadow stilled itself.

  “I want it.”

  Leven relaxed his grip just a bit. Moonlight pushed in between his fingers and sparkled off the key.

  The shadow moaned. It sprang toward Leven just as the surface of Lith made a giant rocking motion. Leven’s left foot slipped, and as he reached out to steady himself, his fist slashed against the Want’s shadow. The bit of key sticking out sliced off a portion of the shadow’s right cheek. The chunk of black fell to the ground wriggling and hissing. Unlike before, the missing piece did not re-form on the shadow.

  Leven looked at the key. “The metal,” he whispered.

  The shadow lunged again, and this time Leven swung his arm in a broad arc, slicing off the shadow’s right arm. The arm fell to the ground and crawled out of the room hissing.

  The shadow disappeared and reappeared behind Leven. It kicked Leven in the back of the knees. But as he fell, he turned and sliced off the shadow’s two legs. The shadow fell to the ground. It screamed and hollered, its eyes focused on the key the whole time.

  Its severed legs made such a huge hissing sound that rovens up above took notice and began to circle.

  “I want the key,” the shadow wailed. “I want to hold it again.”

  “I won’t make that mistake twice,” Leven said.

  He stepped forward and sliced the shadow’s neck. The shadow’s head fell to the ground and screamed.

  “Never,” Leven whispered.

  A huge roven picked up one of the shadow’s legs and flew off. Another roven took the screaming head, and a couple of others moved in and began to fight over the body.

  Leven looked around him. Lith was falling apart even further. The sound of fire and water and crumbling stone filled his head.

  “Was that what I was supposed to do?” Leven yelled to the sky.

  A strong wind blew down and brought behind it a momentary silence. It was as if the sound had been muted. Leven turned to look back toward the direction he had come from.

  A soft voice whispered, “It is time.”

  At first Leven had seemed to hear the voice in his heart. Now he was clearly hearing it in his mind.

  “Fate is ready,” the voice said.

  Leven stepped back into the dark hall and down the steps. The hallway opened into a stone-walled chamber. His soul was unsteady and disappointed that there was still more for him to do.

  A low wind blew and a ray of moonlight slipped through a thin crack, exposing a sword resting by itself on the ground. It lay there like an infant nobody wanted.

  It had not been there before.

  Its hilt was egg shaped, and the center of it glowed a soft yellow. The blade was sharp on one side and covered with jagged teeth on the other. It wasn’t as long as a typical sword, but it wasn’t as short as a knife either.

  Leven looked at it lying there and felt a great sense of danger swell within his body. It was as if the very air was planning to kill him. He reached down and picked the sword up with one swift movement. He held it in his left hand, not wanting to get blood from his cut hand on it. He marveled at the metal that had been used to create it.

  “They can see you,” the Want’s voice said.

  Leven looked around anxiously, wielding the sword. The moonlight shifted and disappeared, leaving the stone room pitch-black. A feeling of suffocating dread filled the air. Leven heard someone stepping closer.

  “Who’s there?” Leven shouted.

  Heavy footsteps pressed against the stone floor.

  “Who is it?” Leven demanded, still energized from the fight he had just survived.

  “Thrust the sword into the dark,” the Want’s voice said.

  “I can’t,” Leven said strongly.

  “Thrust the sword into the dark.”

  Leven’s body burned. He longed to make Foo right, but his heart was too confused to obey. He hefted the sword in his hand.

  “Thrust the sword into the dark.”

  Leven’s body took over. He pulled back and thrust the sword. His hand seemed to glide effortlessly through the air, coming to a stop against something solid and cold. Whatever he had hit crumbled to the floor with a soft thud. Large patches of clouds shifted in the dark sky above, and moonlight burst through a thousand openings, illuminating the room in sparkling shafts.

  There on the ground in front of Leven lay the Want.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Too Late

  Geth, Winter, Clover, Andrus, and Sait hit the water like a gangly stone, arms and legs flailing like a fight scene in the Sunday comics. The rope around them tangled, making it almost impossible for them to swim up for air.

  Winter pushed at the rope. She could feel Sait pulling her under as he tried to get up above the water. The rushing water was trying desperately to find a way out of the cavern. The group of tethered beings spun as they were pushed up against and around giant stalagmites and walls. If it weren’t for the rope binding them, they would have been separated at every turn.

  Sait screamed.

  Clover bounced around from Andrus’s knee to Geth’s head to Winter’s shoulder. All five of them dropped six feet as the water fell suddenly to a lower level.

  “Hang on,” Clover said.

  It was dark, and every precipice and wall came as a complete surprise. They hit another stalagmite and the water pulled them around the side of it.

  The roar of water up ahead was almost deafening. A moment later they dropped twenty feet, dipping down into the water and then bobbing back up like a barrel. A rock fell from above and hit Andrus on the left shoulder.

  He screamed but could barely be heard.

  “We’ll get through this,” Geth said. “Lith is a series of caves and caverns, but there are many openings as well.”

  “What if the water has already risen above the openings?” Winter screamed.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Geth said almost cheerfully. “It’ll be interesting to find out.

  Sait passed out, obviously lacking interest. His body became dead weight
that beat up against the rest of them.

  “If Lith is halfway under, then—” Water filled Geth’s mouth, causing him to cough and sputter.

  “If Lith is halfway under,” he tried again, “then there should still be a few openings.”

  “Light,” Andrus shouted.

  It was faint, but the others could see it as well. There was an opening, and the night sky wasn’t quite as dark as the cavern walls. The opening was wide enough for them to get through, but showed no signs of what was on the other side of it.

  “We’re moving too fast,” Winter yelled. “What if there’s a drop?”

  “We had to have been at the very top of the island,” Andrus said.

  “I didn’t think we were that—” Geth never got a chance to say “high.” The thick sleeve of water they were caught in reached the hole and spat them out with force. All five of them blew out of the cliff’s wall. Unfortunately, they were hundreds of feet above the Veil Sea.

  Winter screamed, her voice trailing like a falling star.

  Andrus used the moment to imitate Sait and pass out. Clover grabbed onto Winter’s head, covering her eyes with his hands, and Geth spread his arms and, like a true lithen, enjoyed the ride down.

  ii

  Leven fell to his knees.

  The sword he had thrust was piercing the side of the Want’s left shoulder. It would have been a superficial wound to anyone else, but fate had guided Leven’s hand and found the weak spot.

  There is only one way to kill a Want. It is not an easy thing to do. I would have never even thought it possible if I had not been reading a dusty old book I stumbled upon in an abandoned candle shop in Ohio. In it was a story that spoke of the Want’s possessing a weak spot—a small, red circle that travels across his skin, constantly shifting and moving. There are, of course, many spots that drift across the Want’s skin, but only one is the weak spot. If someone who is picked by fate hits the Want on the right mark, then it is meant to be, and the Want will die.

  “No,” Leven said angrily. “Why would you?”

  He picked the Want up in his arms. He felt so small and light. The Want’s eyes were still covered, but Leven could see him smiling.

  “I’m so sorry,” the Want said, laughing lightly.

  “Why?”

  “Purely selfish,” the Want choked. “I have lived too long. I’m so tired of all the dreams and the desires. This will be your problem now.”

  “I don’t understand,” Leven said carefully.

  “How could you ever understand?” the Want coughed. “There are so many who need you. I used you to free me. I have given up my integrity to fulfill my fate. Now the fate of Foo is yours. I will worry myself no more.”

  “How could you?”

  “It was my design all along. I betrayed you and Antsel and Geth. I’m afraid I also did some things that will make your fight even harder. But my fears are calmed by the fact that I’m free.”

  The Want’s chin was pale and relaxed. As if on impulse, Leven reached out and lifted the hood he was wearing to look into his eyes.

  Leven gasped. The Want’s raisin eyes hung in their slimy wet sockets. Leven could see miniscule objects twisting around the withered eyes. A light glowed from behind them, but even now the light was dimming.

  “I’ve seen too many dreams,” the Want said with glee. “My eyes are yours now.”

  “No,” Leven insisted, reaching up to feel his own eyes.

  “The transition will take time,” he laughed. “But you’re the Want now. And your moods and your thoughts and your actions will curse or bless all of humankind.”

  “What if I refuse?” Leven argued.

  “It won’t change a thing,” he coughed. “You will still be the Want and I suppose Foo will crumble and you’ll be left alone. The Dearth will simply take over sooner rather than later.”

  “What?” Leven questioned.

  The Want smiled lightly.

  “I don’t have to worry about any of it,” he said happily. “Even my shadow is destroyed. Sorry about that; he wasn’t supposed to interfere.”

  “Why me?” Leven asked, upset. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s your blood.”

  “What does my . . .”

  Leven stopped to look at who he held. His hands and mind trembled.

  “You can see it, can’t you?” the old man asked, his withered eyes looking directly at Leven. “You can see the truth?”

  “I don’t know what I see,” Leven whispered. “If what I think is true, you’re supposed to be dead. Now here you are alive.”

  “Only momentarily,” Hector Thumps said.

  Leven was dumbfounded. He looked closely at the face of his grandfather, searching for some bit of recognition.

  “I don’t believe it,” Leven whispered.

  “Yes you do.”

  “Did Amelia know?” Leven asked softly.

  “No,” Hector gasped. “She thought me dead. I would have been, if fate had not put me in line for the life I have since lived.”

  “Does Geth know?”

  “He suspected,” Hector said. “That was one of the reasons I sent him to take care of you. I knew that only my blood could take the reins. Up until now you were too young. Now you have come and pierced my shoulder, but fate has found it fitting to let me pass on.”

  “How could my own grandfather do this to me?” Leven reasoned. “You brought me here for this?”

  “It was time. I have lived too long. I’m done,” Hector coughed. “I’ve seen too many things. My mind has not been my own for years. I want out of the pain of knowing everything. It’s now your turn.”

  Leven was so confused. He wanted more than anything to hold his grandfather and cry. Every bit of family he had encountered in his life had disappeared as quickly as they had come into the picture. He couldn’t comprehend the madness his grandfather must have been suffering to sell out not only the whole of Foo but his own grandson as well.

  “Someday you will understand,” Hector choked.

  “I’ll never understand,” Leven said, hurt, his eyes burning a new shade of gold. “I’ll never understand what kind of grandfather could do this.”

  Hector Thumps laughed. “Sorry,” he choked. “But it just feels so good to think of other things. Besides, the events set in motion cannot be completely fulfilled while the sycophants still live. You hold the key that I promised to Azure. It was my single move to prevent him from grabbing all he was reaching for and satisfiying the Dearth.

  “The Dearth?” Leven asked.

  “Fate cannot hold him below forever,” Hector rasped. “There must be opposition in all things, and he will prevail unless you are strong enough. Show your key to no one. If they know what it looks like, they can try to re-create it.There’s still a chance that Foo can be saved. You need only . . . no, no. I won’t even think about what you should do. The tone of all mankind’s dreams now rests with you, and I am free. And, sadly, I’m afraid you have not known peril yet.”

  “But I haven’t even seen a single dream,” Leven argued.

  “That’s not my concern.”

  “It should be,” Leven said boldly.

  “Then release Phoebe.”

  “What?” Leven asked.

  Hector Thumps pulled out a thin strand of leather from around his own neck. There was another key hanging from the leather.

  “Take this,” Hector choked. “Phoebe’s release will change the whole of Foo.”

  Hector smiled one final time as his withered eyes turned cold and dimmed.

  “I’ve lived such a long time,” he coughed.

  Leven held his grandfather and cried with anger and sorrow.

  Chapter Forty

  Swabs

  Dennis climbed onto the boat with Ezra tucked under his collar. The day was gray and the skies looked full of moisture and mischief. The Russian ship would be leaving the German dock soon, on its way to Newfoundland. Dennis and Ezra figured it was a good start toward getti
ng where they needed to go.

  “We’ll see where I’m drawn to once we get there,” Ezra had said.

  The crew chief of the Russian ship had raised his eyebrows when Dennis had informed him that he had only an American driver’s license and no passport. But the crew chief had said yes in the end because they were shorthanded, and it took a lot of hands to get a boat as big as they were sailing safely across the Atlantic Ocean.

  “No weapons?” the crew chief had asked.

  “None,” Dennis had replied, wondering if he needed to declare the toothpick he was packing.

  Dennis found his bunk and was handed a broom by a tall man with bad skin and big teeth. The man pointed to the floor as if Dennis might not be accustomed to the act of sweeping.

  Dennis was all too familiar. As he moved the broom in a nice pattern, he thought of how strangely his life was turning out. He looked at the faded marking on his skin and wondered if he would ever be completely back to normal.

  “Look at you, broom boy,” Ezra said, surfacing from his pocket. “Can’t get away from who you really are.”

  Dennis didn’t even acknowledge Ezra.

  “What’s the matter?” Ezra mocked. “Manhood got your tongue?”

  Dennis pushed the broom into the corner and pulled out a long trail of dust.

  “You need me,” Dennis said calmly.

  “Excuse me,” Ezra raged, his one eye blinking madly. “I’m letting you tag along.”

  “I found you,” Dennis said bravely. “I carved you. And I kept you when Sabine wanted to toss you aside.”

  Ezra stared at Dennis with his mouth open. Dennis looked away and kept sweeping.

  “My little janitor has grown a backbone,” Ezra finally said. “It’s about time. You’re going to need it where we’re going. How fast did you say this boat can go?”

  Dennis took an educated guess.

  “That’s it?” Ezra spat.

  “Maybe a little faster once we’re out to sea,” Dennis added.

  “It’s going to have to do better than that,” Ezra said.

 

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