by Obert Skye
“Well, it will be my map next month.”
“No it won’t,” the black thorn bickered. “It will be mine because you forfeited your turn, remember?”
“I didn’t forfeit. I was resting.”
“Resting your turn? How do you rest a turn? This is me,” the black thorn mocked. “Look at me, everyone! I’m resting my turn. You forfeited.”
As the three thorns quarreled, Reed leaned in closer to Rast.
“What should we do?” he whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Rast answered. “I know thorns are incredibly possessive of things. They must be attracted to the map.”
“Well, the rocks are right there,” Reed pointed out. “Maybe if we throw them while they’re distracted. . . .”
Rast and Reed slowly picked up the rocks.
“The map winked at me,” the green thorn declared. “That means I’m number seven.”
“So now the map’s winking?” the brown thorn argued. “Last week it blushed and now it’s winking? You need to get out more.”
Rast and Read threw their stones.
Without missing a beat the three thorns zipped in and batted them back.
“What, you think we’re stupid?” the green thorn asked.
“Yeah,” the brown thorn agreed. “Think we can’t argue and keep an eye on you at the same time? Look at these two. Sad.”
“Go home,” the green thorn fluttered.
“Listen,” Rast said. “Some bad things will happen if that map isn’t destroyed.”
“Ooohhh,” the black thorn shivered. “I’m scared. You guys shaking like I’m shaking?”
The green and brown thorns laughed as they fluttered about.
“The only bad thing that’s going to happen is if you hurt my map,” the black thorn said.
“Again with the ‘my map,’” the brown thorn squabbled. “Your time is two months away.”
“And I’m two seconds away from hurting you.”
“That’s even less frightening than these fur balls,” the brown thorn said.
As brown and black argued, green began polishing the map and singing to it.
“Glass and light feels so right, you and me together.”
“I think we should go,” Reed said.
“But the map,” Rast said sadly.
“It’s in the hands of fate,” Reed said softly. “As it should be. They’re not going to let us destroy it.”
“Okay,” the black thorn gave in. “You get to say the map is yours on odd days, and I get to say it’s mine every other even day until spring.”
“Where does that leave me?” the green one yelled. “And if you bring up that time-share idea again, so help me I’ll go mad.”
“Keep your voice down,” the brown thorn said. “You know loud noises bother her.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Rast said.
“Yeah,” Reed agreed. “This is getting weird.”
Rast and Reed walked quickly and quietly back through the caves—both of them knowing that for the first time in the history of Foo their people were about to face real danger.
It was not a good feeling.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A Moment to Breathe
The meadow was littered with wounded beings and debris. Blue soldiers marched in straight lines restoring order in the chaos and gathering prisoners. In the far distance buildings burned in Cusp. The dark smoke from the fires rose up into the dusk and the hazen fed on it greedily. The sky was balloon free, but rovens in small clusters patrolled the air, screaming to make sure their presence was known.
The weather was still undecided, warmth hovering in some spots and the cold refusing to leave others. Weak lightning struck occasionally, and the sky continued to shift colors like an out-of-sync movie.
Azure’s army had moved in and conquered with little regard for what things would look like after. Hundreds of Lore Coils of different strengths still drifted around, most of them concerning the battle or the sycophant secret. The words Alderam Degarus hung in the air. And anytime they were whispered, sycophants in the immediate area would turn visible and scream in fear.
The brick path Leven and everyone walked had been torn up in hundreds of spots by the avalands that had stampeded through. The bricks ended at the far edge of the meadow right above the field leading to the gloam.
As they stepped onto the new path, it began to rain.
Leven, Geth, Winter, and Clover marched through the mud. Winter cursed the heavy, wet robe she had to drag through the muck.
“This robe is so huge,” Winter complained.
“Sorry,” Geth said supportively. “The mud’s hard to move through, but it should also make it difficult for the Dearth to listen and communicate.”
“You know what I think?” Clover said. “I think we need a name.”
“We’ve got names,” Winter said.
“No, a group name,” Clover pointed out. “Like ‘The Marchers.’”
“That’s horrible,” Leven said. “We’re not always marching.”
“I was thinking about the month of March,” Clover said defensively.
“That makes even less sense,” Leven laughed. “It’s not March.”
“True,” Clover replied, jumping onto Geth’s wet-cloaked head. “Well, then, what do you suggest, toothpick?”
“I suggest we hurry.”
“No, that has no appeal,” Clover waved. “How about, ‘Four Friends’?”
“Descriptive,” Winter said. “The hem of this robe weighs about two hundred pounds.”
The rain pounded harder. Clover disappeared, and two seconds later he was back.
“The Brotherhood of Foo.”
“I’m a girl,” Winter pointed out.
“The Sisterhood?”
“Let’s just think on it a while,” Leven said.
“I’ve really been the only one to suggest anything,” Clover said. “Besides Geth.”
“Geth wasn’t suggesting,” Winter argued.
Clover disappeared.
A cart pulled by two onicks moved through the mud and past them. The wheels of the cart created long, thin lines of water that slowly spread out, like thick fingers.
“Not much farther,” Geth said. “We’ll move off the trail and approach the knoll from Sentinel Fields.”
“Do you think Tim and Janet are far?” Winter shouted through the rain.
“It would be a guess any way I answered,” Geth replied. “But let’s hope we meet up.”
“I don’t want to see her,” Winter said. “She was horrible to me.”
“Sorry,” Geth shouted. “But she’s here. Fate must have some reason for it.”
“She seems remorseful,” Leven said, rain filling his eyes.
“She was awful,” Winter argued.
“Hey, where’d you get those clothes?” Leven asked Winter.
“Funny.”
“Seriously, how did you . . . am I seeing things again?”
“Apparently,” Winter snipped. “Because I’m still wearing this awful robe.”
“What’s up with my vision?” Leven yelled to Geth. “I can’t figure it out.”
“It appears that you see the things people want or need.”
“Winter wanted to hug me?” Leven asked, smiling, water dripping down his face and pasting his long, dark bangs to his forehead.
“I think he sees what he wants,” Winter complained.
“Do you see those soldiers way off to the right?” Leven asked.
“Yes!” both Geth and Winter said.
“Are they holding trophies?”
“No,” Clover answered.
Leven looked around quickly.
“What about that woman in the cart behind us?” Leven asked. “Is she holding a baby?”
“What woman?” Winter asked. “There’s just a tiny old man wrapped in a blanket.”
“This isn’t good,” Leven shouted into the rain. “I can’t even trust what I see.”
“Yes you can,” Geth said calmly. “You know what’s real.”
“No I don’t,” Leven argued.
“I could help,” Clover said. “Like one of those helper dogs in Reality.”
“This way,” Geth ordered. “Hurry.”
The four of them veered off the path and around a small cluster of thick trees. On the other side of the trees was a row of orange bushes being pelted by rain. The bushes bled into more trees that ran up a steep hill.
“We’re going up,” Geth said, “between the white trees.”
“Wait!” someone yelled. “Hold up!”
Leven turned back to see Tim and Janet running towards them.
“They found us,” Leven said. “Hey, what’s Winter doing with Janet?”
“I’m not with Janet,” Winter said.
Leven looked to his right, where Winter was standing. “Sorry, you were running by her. I guess that’s what she wants, not you.”
Tim and Janet caught up to them. Tim hugged Winter and Janet tried to.
“Hey, there’s that whisp . . . Pam,” Clover whispered to Leven. “And the balding guy?”
“It’s Janet, and the guy is Winter’s neighbor from Reality or something.”
“And they’re here?”
“You found your sycophant!” Tim cheered, looking at Clover. “We were worried when we found no trace of you. The caves are barren; the last troops were moving out as we left.”
“Any sign of Azure?” Geth asked. “Did he get loose?”
“I guess,” Tim answered. “We saw him yelling at some soldiers.”
Swig appeared and Clover looked bothered.
“Come on,” Geth said kindly. “We should move.”
They hiked through the trees up to a small, flat knoll shaped like an upside-down cauldron. It provided a panoramic view of the gloam reaching out into the Veil Sea. Geth crawled to the edge and looked out from under the dense growth.
“Fantastic,” he cried.
Leven dropped down and moved over to Geth. From the very edge he could not only see the gloam stretching out, he could also see the thousands and thousands and thousands of soldiers dressed in blue gathered at the shore waiting to cross the gloam.
“There are so many,” Leven said, depressed. “I didn’t realize there were that many in all of Foo.”
“Some must have come from beyond the Pillars of Rant,” Geth said. “They have prepared well. I like a worthy opponent.”
Winter crouched down next to Leven. “Listen to them down there,” she said. “They sound like the sea itself.”
The troops in front carried tall, weblike staffs that were covered in shimmering, plate-sized pieces of metal. When shifted, the metal pieces sparkled like sequins.
“To distract the sycophants,” Geth said solemnly.
“They are really neat to look at,” Clover said naively.
Leven moaned.
“When the rain stops, the avalands will rise and carry most of them swiftly across the gloam to Sycophant Run. If they know where the opening is—like the Dearth said—they could be moving troops into Reality in less than a full day. Any suggestions?” Geth asked.
“We give up,” Leven joked.
“What’s wrong with moving into Reality?” Tim asked honestly, crouching down near them. “I need to get back. I have a wife and kids.”
“So do most nits that wander in,” Geth said. “But that’s fate. And because of that, you have been able to think and to hope and to dream. Once the Dearth moves so many into Reality, you along with everyone else will perish with hopelessness.”
“But I have to get back,” Tim persisted.
Geth rolled over and sat up. “It would be best for all mankind if you never did.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your world floats in a sea of space that reaches farther than man could ever comprehend. It spins so that you can stand. It turns so that you can experience, and what you experience is possible only because mankind is balanced. That balance will begin to erode the moment the Dearth moves through. It’s what we lithens have always feared.”
Tim rubbed his eyes and face.
“Every one of those soldiers down there believes that Reality will make them whole, mend their souls, give them substance, or cure what ails them,” Geth continued. “Unfortunately, it will do just the opposite and drag humankind down with it. It’s not lithen rhetoric, or a child’s fairy tale—it’s simply the truth.”
It began to snow.
Tim retreated into his own head, lost in thought.
“You don’t paint a pretty picture,” Leven said.
“I didn’t say it was hopeless,” Geth replied.
Winter laughed. “You may as well have.”
Clover appeared and whispered, “If I come up with a name for our group, does it have to involve those three?”
Leven shook his head.
“Good,” Clover said. “Then how about, ‘The Four Who Don’t Need Those Other Three’?”
“Actually, that name sort of involves them,” Geth pointed out.
“In a clever way. Not everyone will get it,” Clover defended quietly. “I just think it’s weird having them around. It’s like that aunt who comes to your birthday and gives you ribbons for your hair and makes you wear them in front of the other boys in your class.”
“What are you talking about?” Winter laughed.
“Fine,” Clover sighed. “I’ll keep thinking.”
Leven patted Clover on the head. The small sycophant smiled and then disappeared.
“We should get some sleep,” Geth said. “Morning will clear our thoughts. The stone might not be the most comfortable, but it should keep us undetected.”
“I wouldn’t mind some food,” Winter said.
Leven and Geth got up to forage for bickerwicks while Tim and Winter built a small fire.
“It needs more wood,” Tim said. “I’ll be right back.”
“But it’s burning . . .” Winter tried to stop him, but he was gone, leaving her alone with Janet.
Winter pushed the new fire around with a long stick and kept her green eyes down.
“This must be so hard for you,” Janet finally said.
“No,” Winter said. “It’s fine. I mean, the last time I saw you, you were sitting on the couch drinking from a hose and telling me how little I mattered.”
Janet wiped her non-eyes. “What a fool I was. The sad thing is, I’m probably still sitting there on that couch.”
Winter looked up.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said. “But I suppose if you’re a whisp here, then most of you is still just like you always were in Reality.”
“I don’t want to go back,” Janet said honestly. “I hate being nothing here, but I dread even more returning to what I was.”
“I don’t blame you for that,” Winter said. “You were awful.”
The small fire began to grow and warmed the dry area beneath the trees quite well.
“I was so scared when I stepped into this place,” Janet said. “I wasn’t whole, I had no idea where I was, and I was seeing things I never could have imagined. I’ve never had a good imagination. I was so frightened. But it didn’t take me long to realize that what I was most unhappy about was how I had treated you.”
Winter looked at her.
“I want to say it was no big deal,” Winter said softly. “But it was.”
“I know that,” Janet sniffed. “I’ll try my hardest to convince you I’m sorry. My form can’t change in this condition, but I know my insides have.”
Leven and Geth returned with a bushel full of bickerwicks and two purple plants that looked like puffy rolls of paper towels. They tore off pieces of the plant and rolled up toasted bickerwicks inside them. The roasted bickerwicks tasted sweet and flavorful.
The seven of them sat around the small fire as snow built up on the boughs above them. The sound of the Veil Sea and of the armies below rose in the air like s
team off a warm lake. Leven looked around at his companions.
“It’s unbelievable,” Leven said.
“I agree,” Winter replied, biting into her rolled-up bickerwick. “Absolutely delicious.”
“Yeah, the food,” Leven nodded. “But I mean, it’s unbelievable that we are all here.”
Everyone looked around, slowly understanding what Leven was getting at.
Leven flipped his hood down. His face was sober and his chin well-defined. Long, dark strands of hair hung down over his gold eyes, and the white streak in his hair reflected the firelight.
“I thought Clover was dead, but here he is.”
Clover materialized and then disappeared back and forth a few times for effect.
“And Winter, your neighbor and his sycophant are here. And your . . . and Janet is here too.”
Winter looked at Janet and Tim and Swig and smiled. Tim finished what he was chewing and smiled back while Janet glowed.
“And us,” Leven said, looking at Geth and Winter. “I’d be nothing without you two.”
Winter looked beautiful lit by the fire. Her long, blonde hair fell across her face like a veil and her green eyes shone out like stones that most men would fight over. She curled her pink lips into a smile.
“You’d be remarkable regardless,” she said warmly.
The small fire hummed.
Leven realized that they were all exactly where they wanted to be at the moment.
“When I looked over that edge earlier and saw those armies, I felt as if I had a new understanding of impossible,” Leven said softly. “But I look at us here, still living and having made it this far, and I can’t help but think that it’s they who have their work cut out for them.”
Geth’s eyes danced, reminding Leven of the toothpick he had once been.
“To dreams,” Geth said, raising his rolled bickerwick in a toast. “And to the restoration of Foo.”
“To Foo,” everyone replied.
The fire sang “amen” as the snow continued to fall. It was easily one of the top five meals Leven had ever eaten.
“I wish Phoebe were here,” Geth said.
Everyone was too busy munching to give him a hard time
about it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
