Geth and the Return of the Lithens

  “You can’t get out,” Galbraith insisted. “Recently the border has begun to glow, but still there is no clear way of escaping. There are thousands of caves and all of them lead to death.”

  “One of them doesn’t,” Clover pointed out. “That pink girl got out. She must know how.”

  “Then I suggest you ask her,” Galbraith said. “But she’ll be dead by tomorrow.”

  “Not if we help her,” Geth championed.

  “It will do no good,” Galbraith spoke. “None at all.”

  “Does everyone in this realm cower like you do?” Geth asked, disgusted. “Someone is in need and you draw the curtain and huddle in fear?”

  “We have no windows,” one man in a suit said. “So curtains would sort of be foolish.”

  Geth rubbed his forehead and stared at Galbraith with his blue eyes. “At least tell me, how do you kill the boors?”

  “They can be destroyed like any other being,” Galbraith informed Geth. “After all, they were once like us—our families and friends—now all slaves to the voice of Payt.”

  “You use metal here,” Geth said. “Do you have weapons to fight them?”

  “We have swords,” Galbraith replied. “Take what you wish, but by the time you hack down one boor there will be twenty more on top of you. You kill those twenty and there will be a hundred on top of that. This very conversation would have never even been possible if total darkness had come two minutes later than it did. They would have had you bound and held until they could lock you up again.”

  “Would-haves are for fools,” Geth chastised Galbraith. “How many of you live underground?”

  “Over the whole of Zendor, fifty thousand, perhaps,” Galbraith answered.

  “And the boors?” Geth asked. “How many of them are there?”

  “Too many to count,” Galbraith said. “Half a million.”

  Geth was silent as he thought. He pushed his long brown hair back and stared at the warm stove. The right corner of his mouth curled upward and he smiled coyly while looking at Clover.

  “What do you think?” Geth asked Clover.

  “Hard to say,” Clover replied. “Fifty thousand against half a million?”

  “We’ve had worse odds, haven’t we?” Geth asked.

  Clover shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not that great with numbers.”

  Geth looked at Galbraith. “May I borrow a sword?”

  Galbraith nodded.

  “Anyone who wants to come with us may,” Geth added. “Let’s see what kind of strength this Payt really has.”

  “None of us will follow,” Galbraith insisted, taking the steam out of Geth’s words.

  A tall Stone Holder handed Galbraith a sword. Galbraith then gave the sheathed sword to Geth, looking as guilty as a disobedient dog.

  “Nice,” Geth said happily. He strapped the gear around his waist and pulled the sword out of the sheath. Geth hefted the weapon in his hands and smiled.

  “I like metal,” he exclaimed.

  The Stone Holders all just stared at Geth as he slid the sword back into the sheath.

  “We’re going to do this with or without you,” Geth addressed the crowd. “I’d prefer you come along.”

  All the Stone Holders hung their heads or pulled down their hats to hide their cowardly eyes.

  “All right, if you choose not to fight, at least tell me where he’s taken Eve,” Geth asked. “I know they are over from here in a castle, but is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “Payt lives in Finis,” Galbraith said. “It is the largest city in the realm.”

  “It’s the only city in the realm,” a tall Stone Holder next to Galbraith said. “The rest of our world is filled with small pockets of people hiding in fields or empty towns that no one dares live in any longer. If you stay on the path you will find Finis.”

  “Brian’s right,” Galbraith said. “You’ll run right into it, but before you ever get there you’ll be taken over by the boors. And say some crazy miracle happened and you made it there, you’d be blocked by the wall. Past the wall you’d be hunted by the Tangle. And beyond that you’d encounter a castle filled with more booby traps than there are doors. I don’t know much of anything, but I know you’d be wise to stay put.”

  “You and I have a different view of wisdom,” Geth said.

  “There’s no possibility of success,” Galbraith reiterated.

  “I don’t believe that,” Geth said firmly. “We could fight.”

  “We know our capabilities,” Galbraith admitted. “There’s safety in lying low. Payt can’t live forever.”

  “So your plan is to just hang on until he dies?” Geth questioned.

  “We’re not proud of it,” Galbraith pleaded. “You don’t age in Zendor, but you can expire. And one day Payt will expire. So we live like this because we have no other choice. Some of our people are dreams that have been captured in this place and others are transplants from Reality still trying to figure out what has happened. But we all know that only a select few can hear the voice of Payt and not become his slaves. It’s our duty to stay put until he isn’t a threat any longer.”

  “Listen,” Geth said, trying to take everyone in with one glance. “It’s none of my business what you choose to do, but I wonder why any of you fear dying when you seem dead already.”

  “We want to fight,” a Stone Holder wearing a tracksuit said.

  “Then will you?” Geth asked.

  “It’s not like it hasn’t been tried,” another spoke up. “Half the boors Payt now controls are prisoners from our attempts. We can’t just keep supplying him with soldiers.”

  “So you won’t fight?” Geth asked, seeking clarification.

  All the Stone Holders suddenly became very interested in the tips of their shoes.

  “I see,” Geth said, bothered. “Let’s go, Clover.”

  “Wait,” Galbraith said. “You’ll need this.”

  Galbraith reached toward Geth, holding one of the glowing stones. Geth turned, looked at the stone, and then smiled weakly.

  “No thanks,” Geth said. “I’d rather walk through the dark than hold onto the stone.” He turned and stepped quickly toward the tunnel that led out.

  “That didn’t really make sense,” Clover whispered in Geth’s right ear.

  “I know,” Geth whispered back, walking fast. “I just couldn’t think of any other good exit line.”

  “What about, ‘You stay here, we’ll stay freedom’?” Clover suggested.

  “That makes less sense than mine,” Geth replied.

  “How about, ‘Keep your stone, I’m going home’?”

  “We’re both really tired,” Geth said, trying to excuse their lame lines.

  “I got it, I got it: ‘I’m outta here and you’re all wussies’?”

  “I like that one best,” Geth said.

  Clover smiled and Geth walked faster.

  Chapter Nine

  Kevin

  Shut your eyes. Good, that should weed out all of those who blindly follow commands. Sure, thousands of readers will now be sitting in front of their books with their eyes closed for hours, but the rest of us can move on.

  Most of us have known darkness. Those sitting with their eyes closed are now experiencing it, and unless you are a member of that mythical tribe that never sleeps, you probably know what it’s like to close your eyes at night and view nothing but the dark. Or maybe you were in an office and somebody turned the lights off because they forgot you were there. Or maybe you were shoved into a basement closet after you were caught spying on foreign dignitaries while they exchanged goods that were actually bad.

  For the record, I wasn’t spying as much as I was “listening in.”

  Regardless, you probably have a pretty
good idea of what dark is. Well, you’re wrong. All those things are more like gray when compared to the blackness Geth and Clover were walking through now.

  Clover was sitting on Geth’s head, leaning forward and trying to make out anything in front of them. Geth kept walking, but twice he had tripped on divots in their path and once he had knocked his face hard against a tree branch sticking out over the road. Occasionally they would see a Stone Holder’s palms glowing in the distance, but aside from that it was just black. The pace they were moving at was so slow that Clover attempted to fight the boredom by constantly talking.

  “So, did you hear those Stone Holders talking about their names?” Clover asked.

  “No,” Geth answered. “When was that?”

  “When I slipped into their kitchens and made some food,” Clover said. “There were a couple of Stone Holders in there talking.”

  “Did you make any food for me?” Geth asked.

  “I might have at first, but then it turned out to be for me,” Clover said apologetically. “But two Stone Holders were talking about how they get their names from the person who dreamt them to life.”

  “Interesting,” Geth said.

  “I know,” Clover agreed. “Who’s naming their child Galbraith in Reality? It’s hard enough being a kid.”

  “That’s true,” Geth said.

  “Were you ever a kid?” Clover asked as they walked.

  “Of course,” Geth replied. “Lithens start out as babies too.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Clover said. “Did you ever get in trouble?”

  Clover could feel Geth’s head nod.

  “Really?” Clover asked. “I bet when you got in trouble you said things like, ‘My trouble is but a challenge I have been given.’”

  “I was a kid,” Geth reminded him. “There was a time I didn’t even talk about fate.”

  “Were those your troubled years?”

  Geth laughed. “I travel by fate now, but there were years when I didn’t feel any differently than you do now.”

  “Really? ’Cause I feel dizzy,” Clover said. “I think—”

  Geth slammed into someone directly in front of him. The impact sent Geth flying backwards and to the ground. Clover dug his toes and fingers into Geth’s head, holding on as Geth collapsed.

  “What was that?” Clover asked, still clinging tightly to Geth’s head.

  “A person,” Geth answered.

  “Well, he wasn’t carrying a stone,” Clover complained.

  “Neither are we,” Geth reminded him as he turned and began to reach around for the person they had hit.

  “Here,” Clover said, pulling a glowing stone from his pocket.

  “You took one of their stones,” Geth said needlessly.

  “I actually took four,” Clover admitted. “I have to say, it would be almost impossible for me to pass up one rock that glows, much less four.”

  Clover held the rock in his open right palm and a bubble of light surrounded them like a clear plastic beach ball. Someone was lying on the road. Geth crawled over as Clover positioned the stone to better light things up.

  The person Geth had bowled down was a young man somewhere in his late teens or early twenties. He had blond hair and a straight, pointed nose. Lying on the ground he looked to be at least six feet tall and he was wearing a blue polo shirt with a red tie around his neck. He had on brown trousers and black low-tops that were as clean as any shoes Geth had ever seen.

  As Geth reached out to touch the boy’s shoulder, the boy’s eyelids flashed open, revealing not only deep blue eyes but a sea of worry. The boy pushed Geth’s hand away and frantically scrambled to his feet. He held his arms forward as if he were preparing to fight and defend himself at the same time. Geth stood up and waved his hands.

  “Hold on,” Geth said, smiling. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Ahhhh!” the boy screamed, his voice warbling.

  “Screaming’s not going to help,” Geth said loudly.

  The boy stopped screaming so he could better hyperventilate. He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled a muffled cry into them. He looked up at Geth and the floating stone above Geth’s right shoulder.

  “Who are you?” the boy demanded, staring at the dark around them, his voice quivering.

  “My name’s Geth.”

  “Where am I?” the boy asked, looking around frantically. He gazed at the floating, glowing stone that an invisible Clover was holding. “What’s happening?”

  Geth smiled again. “You’re in Zendor. Most likely you—”

  “What?” the boy interrupted, still nervously shifting from leg to leg and keeping his arms up in front of him. “Police!” the boy yelled. “Police! Somebody help!”

  Clover moved the glowing rock around, making it look like the stone had a mind of its own, while Geth let the boy’s cries for help drift off before he spoke.

  “Sorry,” Geth apologized. “Calling for help won’t do you any good.”

  “Police!” the boy tried again.

  “I don’t think there are any police here,” Geth said sympathetically. “In fact, we’re probably the closest thing to any sort of authority, and we just got here ourselves.”

  The boy violently rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Geth consoled.

  “I don’t understand,” the boy whimpered. “I’m sick or something. That’s what it is. I’m sick. Look at me, suffering one of those crazy sick dreams. Or maybe I was ill and I passed out at school and when I got home Francine gave me too much cold medicine and now I’m lying in bed having some bizarre dream.”

  “Who’s Francine?” Geth asked.

  “Our maid,” the boy replied.

  “Actually,” Geth clarified, “you’re in a realm on the outside of Foo.”

  “You’re talking crazy,” the boy said. “I was walking to the library and I took the other way because of the boys near the cafeteria and then I . . . ended up here!”

  “That’s right,” Geth said, as if it made more sense than it actually did.

  “I’m dreaming,” the young man cried, trying to convince himself. “I’m having one of those really vivid dreams.” He closed his blue eyes and tried to breathe deeply. After ten heavy breaths he opened his eyes and screamed again.

  “I’m sorry,” Geth said, reaching out. “Unfortunately, there are no sycophants here to comfort you.”

  “Sycophants?” the boy asked, his voice warping and trembling as he spoke. “I have underlings somewhere?”

  “No,” Geth replied. “The word has a slightly different meaning here. Sycophants are a breed of creature. They’re supposed to comfort you when you get snatched.”

  “Snatched? Comforted?” the boy asked in frustration.

  “Clover?” Geth called.

  Clover materialized on Geth’s shoulder, making it suddenly clear that he was the one holding the “floating” rock. The boy screamed louder than all of his other screams combined. Geth looked at Clover and nodded.

  “What?” Clover asked.

  “You’re a sycophant,” Geth reminded him.

  “Yeah,” Clover argued, “but I’m not a very good one, remember?”

  Geth stared at Clover.

  “Really?” Clover gave in. “I’m supposed to comfort him? I thought I was past that. Think about all the mistakes I made with Leven.”

  Geth nodded more.

  “Fine,” Clover said. He gave Geth the glowing stone and jumped over to the boy’s left shoulder.

  The boy stood there trembling, too scared to move.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Clover said in a monotone voice. “This is all for the best. You will find wonder here.”


  “Get away,” the boy demanded, trying to shoo him.

  Clover happily disappeared.

  “Things will look better in the light,” Geth tried.

  “What are you talking about?” the boy said in a panic.

  “Listen,” Geth reasoned, “fate put you in my path, but I’m afraid I need to go. Take this stone and walk in that direction.” Geth pointed back behind him. “In a few miles you’ll meet others who can help you.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “He rarely kids,” the invisible Clover said. “In fact, I don’t think he’s ever said anything funny on purpose in his life.”

  “I don’t know where I am,” the boy argued.

  “Neither do we,” Geth replied.

  “Wait,” the boy said urgently. “I can’t just walk that way, miles into the dark.”

  “That’s your choice,” Geth said kindly. “You can stand here as long as you please. I’m certain the Stone Holders will find you.”

  The boy looked around as panic swept up over him. “I’m not standing here, either. I’ll come with you until I wake up. You said you have some authority.”

  Clover laughed.

  “I wouldn’t advise coming with us,” Geth replied, ignoring Clover. “Of course, we won’t stop you, either.”

  “Good,” the boy said. “Well, actually no, it’s awful, but I’ll stick with you until I wake up. It’s probably a good thing to be safe even when you’re dreaming.”

  “That’s an interesting thing to say,” Geth observed. “I’m not sure I agree.”

  “Listen,” the boy reasoned. “I know you two are just a figment of my imagination. You’re that ‘bad bit of beef’ that Charles Dickens was talking about.”

  “Who?” Geth asked.

  “He’s a writer,” the young man explained. “It’s not important.”

  Geth stared at the boy and raised his right eyebrow. “How old are you?”

  “I’m eighteen,” the boy said, still trying to catch his breath.

  “You sound older,” Geth informed him.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” the young man said, holding his chin out proudly. “I’ve always hated the people my own age. Which explains why I am two solid grades ahead of anyone else my age and why I’m about to become the youngest student ever to graduate from Gapmouth.”