by Obert Skye
“I’m here to tell you that there’ll be no resisting,” she continued. “The master will talk at you and you are to listen and keep still. There is no dignity or reward in struggling. It’ll only make things harder.”
“It looks like my only option is to listen,” Geth said, pulling on the straps. “Unless you want to help.”
The woman turned her head, looking around the room nervously. She turned back to look at Geth.
“Is it true?” she whispered. “Are you a lithen?”
Geth nodded.
“How could you allow yourself to be captured?” she said quietly and with disappointment.
“It wasn’t my first choice,” Geth whispered back. “But I know how we can change things—untie me.”
“I wish I could,” she croaked. “But my fingers are nubs.”
The old woman held up her gnarly hands. Geth, being compassionate, only winced a little.
“Can you cut the straps, then?” Geth asked in a tone similar to what someone might use while requesting that the salt be passed during dinner.
“I’d chew through them with my teeth if I could,” the woman said sadly. “But I have no strength or tools and the leather is stronger than four men could tear. Your end is near, and the last shred of hope dies with you.”
“Hope is eternal,” Geth said sincerely. “It’ll be hanging around long after I’m gone.”
“Payt is coming,” the old woman mourned. “Keep still and don’t struggle. Your compliance will be rewarded.”
“That kind of compliance should never be rewarded,” Geth insisted as the woman turned and walked back out the door.
As soon as the woman exited, someone different entered and shut the door behind him or her. Now the only light was from the candles above Geth.
“A lithen,” a male voice scoffed from the dark. “I know little of Foo, but I am told that your breed is the noblest.”
Geth kept quiet.
“It’s a shame I can’t live in your realm without perishing,” the voice said. “If you’re the best they have, it would be easier to conquer Foo than it was to take over Zendor.”
Geth stared at the darkness.
“I shouldn’t be surprised by how inept you have proven,” the voice said. “After all, my only other experience with your breed did nothing to win me over.”
Geth’s body went taut. “What experience have you had with lithens?”
“You’re not the first of your kind to visit,” the voice said. “Years ago there was another. I don’t know how he got here, and that’s not important. But he was even easier to catch than you. My voice had a very strange effect on him.”
“Who was it?” Geth demanded.
“Who cares?” the voice said. “He turned into a babbling idiot. I couldn’t get him to do anything. But I showed him mercy and let him live. He’s been rotting for years in my dungeons. I hear he does nothing but crave silence and hope for death.”
“I don’t understand,” Geth said hotly. “How could there have been another?”
The stranger in the dark stepped closer and into the circle of light the chandelier was shedding. Geth saw him and choked.
“Kevin?” Geth said, baffled by what he saw.
“The name’s Payt,” he insisted. “Kevin’s my middle name.”
Payt stood there smiling. Gone were the blue shirt and tie and in their place was a long-sleeved leather shirt that went almost to his knees. He had on black tights and pointed black shoes. His wrists were covered in leather bracelets and his blond hair was slicked back and plastered to his head. There was a red crest on his shirt with a buffalo’s head on it.
Geth stared at him with bewilderment.
“Sorry for the little act I put on earlier,” Payt said. “I love to perform. I rarely get out, but I wanted to see a lithen in the open. And you know what? I actually learned a few things. I had no idea the earthen pods could support the weight of a person. I’m going to use that to my advantage somehow. See, Geth, already you’re helping me become stronger.”
“You’re a fool,” Geth said sadly.
“Really?” Payt scoffed. “That doesn’t sound right. Certainly you don’t think I’ve amassed all this by being a fool, do you?”
“Amassed what?” Geth snapped. “A realm full of cowering weaklings who live every moment without hope or happiness?”
“Such an ignorant thing to say,” Payt sniffled. “Look at me—I’m very happy.”
“This makes no sense,” Geth said, pulling at the straps on his arms. “You’re just a kid.”
“People don’t age here,” Payt barked. “Most of the inhabitants are simple dreams that have been given life. I might look like a kid, but I’ve used that to my advantage these thirty years.”
“You built this castle?” Geth asked in amazement.
“Well,” Payt said arrogantly, “I had it built. It’s pretty incredible what you can accomplish with an army of dedicated slaves. Pencilbottom is as fine a castle as any of those in Reality.”
“Pencilbottom?” Geth laughed.
“Laugh all you want,” Payt said defensively. “It’s my last name.”
“Payt Kevin Pencilbottom?” Geth asked.
“The third,” Payt said cruelly. “And I honor my family’s name by controlling the lives of so many.”
Geth’s green eyes smoldered.
“Wow,” Payt said, intrigued. “Is that disgust in your eyes? I thought lithens were docile and agreeable.”
“And I thought your voice was supposed to have an effect on me,” Geth countered.
“Oh,” Payt sniffed. “I have many voices. I tried a few of them out on you earlier. When I could see they didn’t work on you or that sycophant, I knew it would be best to get you here and tied up just in case my strongest voice fails to work.”
“Where is Clover?” Geth demanded.
“I really couldn’t say,” Payt said, tapping his chin. “Although if I had to guess, I think it might have been him that was snared in one of my traps earlier. Who knows where he is now? Dead, perhaps.”
Geth smiled. “It’ll take more than a trap to eliminate Clover.”
“Perhaps,” Payt said, trying hard to sound regal.
“What about Eve?” Geth asked.
“Yes,” Payt sneered. “Eve—the cause of all this commotion in the first place. Don’t people realize how much more tolerable life is if they don’t try? Eve should know that better than anyone. But, good news for Eve. You see, it hasn’t been easy, being alone all these years. I mean, I’ve tried to date a few times, but it’s never really worked out. Not everyone shares my interests.”
“What are—” Geth tried to ask.
“Quiet,” Payt ordered. “I’m telling you about my new girlfriend, Eve.”
The door behind Payt opened once more and a woman shuffled in and up to Payt. She stood by his side looking at Geth.
“Eve,” Geth whispered.
Eve stared at Geth blankly. Her appearance was so different from when he had last seen her. She was cleaned up, and her red hair was long and pulled to the side, falling down over her right shoulder. She had on a flowing white dress and small blue shoes. Her brown eyes were large but vacant and there wasn’t the slightest trace of happiness in her being. She looked beautiful but as distant as a far-off star.
“My darling,” Payt said, adding a slightly different tone to his voice.
Eve turned and looked at Payt.
“Look who’s here,” Payt said. “Would you like to watch what happens?”
“Yes,” Eve said flatly.
“That’s my girl,” Payt replied. “What a day—I find love and destroy another lithen.”
“Zale,” Eve said flatly.
“What?” Geth asked.<
br />
“Quiet,” Payt insisted. “Ignore her.”
“What about Zale?” Geth asked urgently.
“That might have been the last lithen’s name,” Payt said casually. “Who knows for sure?”
“My brother?” Geth asked angrily.
“Aren’t all filthy lithens related?” Payt said, toying with Geth.
“Was it Zale?”
“Who really cares?” Payt sniffed.
“I’ll . . .”
“You’ll . . .” Payt said in an altogether different voice.
Geth was knocked back by the sudden strength of Payt’s voice.
“What’s—” he tried to say.
“Happening?” Payt finished slowly. “Well, I suppose I’ve grown tired of chatting with you.”
The words coming from Payt’s mouth felt like pinecones being shoved into Geth’s ears. The syllables and sounds broke off in his head and bounced around his brain like splinters.
“Who knows why I was given this gift?” Payt breathed out, blowing his words toward Geth.
Geth’s body began to shake violently.
“I say, why question what brings us power?” Payt continued. “What will you be, Geth? Will your mind serve me? Maybe you will become a simpleton like your brother. Or perhaps I will need to finish you off completely. I can’t have the peasants of Zendor thinking there’s hope.”
Geth pulled violently at the leather straps around his wrists. His brain was shooting long bolts of pain down into his heart, and anger like he had never known rose from the pit of his stomach and into his throat.
“It looks to me,” Payt exhaled, “as if my words do affect you. I had some doubt when I was with you earlier.”
Geth’s eyes were closed and his temples were throbbing. He yanked and pulled at the leather straps that were now cutting off the circulation in his hands.
“You know,” Payt went on, “some said you were the last and only hope. As if this place even needs hope. A foolish prophecy that started twenty years ago with your brother and now ends with you.”
Payt laughed, and the sound caused Geth’s whole being to rock and tremble.
“Return of the lithens,” Payt howled. “How pathetic.”
Geth’s blue eyes flashed open as a wave of hatred and anger washed over him. His lithen soul may have been unfamiliar with such feelings, but what he had inherited from Ezra suddenly seemed larger than all the toothpicks in the world.
“You are a wretched excuse for a set of organs and skin,” Geth said.
Geth then looked at his right hand tied to the beam. He pulled and struggled as Payt laughed. The leather strap showed no sign of tearing, but the beam it was tied to was beginning to bend at the base. Geth lunged as hard as he could, pulling away from the beam. His muscles strained as his newfound anger exploded within him. The beam bent closer toward him.
Payt stopped laughing to speak. “Stop this!” he ordered.
The words only made Geth stronger.
“You can’t—”
Geth lunged once more and the right beam cracked at the base and broke loose. He fell forward, swinging the tethered beam directly toward Payt. Payt jumped back to avoid the flying timber.
“Fool!” Payt shouted.
Geth turned his attention to his left arm and began trying to break the other beam from the floor as well.
“Guards!” Payt screamed.
Boors began to bleed into the room. Payt slipped back, grabbing Eve’s hand and disappearing in the sea of boors. Geth swung the long beam his right hand was still attached to and knocked down fifteen boors in one blow. He then lunged at the left pole as if he were tackling it. His weight and anger snapped the pole from the base as boors began to pile up on top of him. In seconds, Geth was buried by a mound of Payt’s innocent army.
The old Geth might have been done for, but thanks to the effect of Payt’s voice and the strength that Ezra provided, Geth was a changed man.
Geth exploded upward, throwing boors all over. He turned in a circle, whipping the beams tethered to his arms around like helicopter blades. Boors flew everywhere as Geth hollered and spun. Payt ran from the room with Eve as Geth continued to mow down every single boor in the room.
Geth stopped spinning and the posts tethered to his arms fell to the ground. The floor was littered with moaning boors. Geth began to loosen the straps on his right arm.
“Wow,” a familiar voice said from on top of his right shoulder. “You didn’t even need my help.”
“Clover,” Geth exclaimed happily.
Clover put his sticky hands around Geth’s neck. He then pulled them off and apologized. “I just got free myself. It wasn’t as violent an escape as yours, but there was marshmallow involved. Hey, where’s your shirt?”
“Payt is Kevin,” Geth said, ignoring Clover’s question.
“I know,” Clover said. “I found that out earlier but was held up trying to get to you. And his last name is Pencilbottom.”
Geth wanted to laugh but there was no time.
“Eve is now one of his lackeys,” Geth said angrily.
“I’m fine with that,” Clover said. “I’m a Phoebe fan.”
“Me too,” Geth insisted, finally getting his right arm untied. “But I’m not in this for a different girlfriend. I’m in this because it’s time someone bullied fate into making this place right.”
“Do you mean us?” Clover asked.
Geth nodded.
“Great,” Clover complained. “Shouldn’t we be finding a way out?”
“Not yet,” Geth cheered. “Zale’s alive!”
“Sakes alive indeed,” Clover cheered back, having misunderstood Geth.
“No,” Geth said, biting at the strap on his left hand. “My brother Zale’s alive.”
Clover looked baffled. “But I thought . . .”
“I did too,” Geth said, finally freeing his left wrist. “Come on.”
“Where we going?” Clover asked.
“I’ve got some heads to bust,” Geth growled.
“Now, that’s a good line,” Clover replied.
Geth ran through the fallen boors and out the door with Clover on his head. He dashed down the hallway, narrowly avoiding a trap that sprang up from a middle tile and pierced the air two inches from him.
“Run faster!” Clover yelled. “Or stop!”
Geth turned a corner, and there standing all alone in the middle of a great room was Payt. Geth stopped twenty feet away and stared him down. Clover was visible and wearing the angriest expression he could muster.
“I must say,” Payt spoke while sniffing arrogantly, “you have impressed me.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Geth snapped.
“Be as indignant as you want, but you can’t escape,” Payt informed him. “It would be almost impossible for you to make it out of my castle without dying or getting caught in one of my traps.”
“I made it out,” Clover bragged.
“Yes,” Payt said, looking up at Clover. “I’m curious about how you did that?”
“I put some gunk on my hands,” Clover bragged. “Then I climbed out of that tube like that one super guy.”
“Spider-Man,” Payt said with authority and affection.
“No,” Clover insisted. “Tube Boy. Who’s Spider-Man?”
“Quiet,” Payt demanded. “That doesn’t matter now.”
“So you really were one of those numbered nonwarriors?” Clover asked.
“Thirteenth-level medieval warrior in the nonfairy division,” Payt stomped.
“And this is all just you living out some weird fantasy?” Geth questioned.
“I created Zendor,” Payt insisted. “Before me, this was just a stupid, quiet place with an uncoo
l name. This is my creation.”
“Well, I can’t wait to get out,” Clover said casually.
“You won’t,” Payt raged. “You can’t beat up the entire population of boors. They will keep coming and coming until you are defeated.”
Geth used a few words Clover had never heard Geth use before.
Payt’s face turned red and he bristled. “You will die, Geth. Your only hope is to give up now and I just might let you live.”
“Live?” Geth seethed. “Is that what you call this?”
“You will die, then,” Payt said with a bit less authority than usual.
“Well, then, I’m going to have fun in the process,” Geth roared.
Geth charged toward Payt with his fists out and his body low. Payt just stood there.
“Wait!” Clover yelled, but it was too late.
Just before Geth reached Payt, the floor gave way and Geth went crashing down through. Clover clung to Geth’s hair as they plunged three floors, twisted, and then dropped straight down into the dungeon.
It was an ugly trick on Payt’s part and not a particularly pretty fall for Geth.
Chapter Seventeen
What’s That Smell?
Beginnings and endings can be confusing at times. Where does one thing stop and the next thing start? When does a kitten become a cat, a fight become a brawl, or a sneeze become something so awkward that people talk about it for weeks? (Hey, it’s not my fault that I’m allergic to snake dander.)
Life is full of starts, stops, and the transitions in between. But Geth had spent his entire existence seeing nothing but endings. He didn’t see a kitten, he saw a future cat. Fights always seemed like invitations to a brawl. And even the simplest sneeze possessed the ability to become a noble anecdote.
Now, as Geth fell into the dark prison cell below Pencilbottom Castle, he didn’t see defeat, he saw stars. His head hit against the bars and his knees buckled as he collapsed against the ground, squishing Clover.
“Awww!” Clover yelled.
Geth rolled off of Clover and onto his back, moaning. The dungeon was dark, and the cell they were in was only slightly bigger than the one Clover had escaped from earlier.
“What happened?” Geth said angrily.
