Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

  Chapter Five

  A Little Privacy, Please

  There are some things in life that you just don’t need to talk about. The rash in your armpit or the fungus under your toenails—clearly those things are not that desirable as subjects for conversation. It’s the same thing for a book. I mean, a chapter where the villain falls into a pit and has to battle a robotic tiger is pretty necessary and cool. But a chapter where that same villain has to pull over and find a rest stop so that he can use the facilities is not only unnecessary, but hardly talked about. How often have you been reading one of your favorite stories and the main character has to hold off on wearing the sorting hat because he’s in the rest room? Or what if Darth Vader, instead of admitting he was Luke’s dad, had said, “Luke . . . where’s the bathroom?” It’s a part of everyone’s life, but it’s not really necessary to write about it, except for this time. You see, if Leven hadn’t stopped to rest and wash up, then he would have never . . . well, read for yourself.

  Leven slowed the avaland. Winter let go of Leven and climbed off the back of the beast. Leven followed her down, grasping his throat as he did. Geth pulled up next to them on a slightly smaller avaland.

  “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Leven walked quickly into the trees. The tall limbs of the fantrum trees were curling and stretching in all directions. Some branches still had a few leaves on them, but most were bare. Leven could see a thick cluster of bickerwicks lining the backside of one tree. Leven leaned over and coughed violently. The sweat on his forehead was rolling into his eyes, and his throat burned as if he had swallowed a red-hot poker.

  “You okay?” Geth yelled from out in the clearing.

  “Fine,” Leven insisted.

  “You don’t look fine,” Clover said, materializing in the limbs of a nearby tree. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know,” Leven said, embarrassed. “I can’t catch my breath, and when I breathe in deep, it feels like fire.”

  “Weird.”

  Leven looked at Clover and nonchalantly cleared his throat.

  Clover stared at him.

  “Do you mind?”

  Clover caught the hint and disappeared, giving Leven some privacy. Leven moved deeper into the trees and through some short shrubbery. As he walked back, he passed a single tall tree standing next to the bushes. The weak moonlight was pushing against one side of it, creating a lanky shadow on the other side.

  Leven walked through the tree’s shadow to reach the bushes. But as he stepped through the shadow, his body slipped into the dark form and out of another shadow far away.

  “What . . .”

  Leven turned around and pushed back into the shadow. The effect didn’t work in reverse. He scanned his new surroundings. He was standing in the shadow of a fat tree on the edge of a forest near the beginning of a wide dirt road. Behind him was a big beach running alongside a large body of water.

  “Winter! Geth!” Leven yelled.

  There was no answer.

  “Clover?”

  “Yep,” Clover answered.

  “You were supposed to leave me alone.”

  “I decided just to close my eyes.”

  “Nice,” Leven whispered. “I guess I’m glad. Where do you think we are?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Clover said. “But look at the big moon.”

  Leven looked up. From where he was standing, the biggest moon was directly overhead, staring right at them.

  “I’ve never been directly under that moon,” Clover whispered. “In fact, I don’t think very many people ever have.”

  “Why?” Leven asked, still looking up.

  “Because in order to be under it you’d have to be on the island of Alder.”

  Leven groaned.

  “The Waves are supposed to keep anyone from reaching here,” Clover whispered, holding onto Leven’s neck and shivering. “Nobody’s allowed on Alder.”

  “I guess we are,” Leven whispered back.

  “So why are we here?” Clover asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Leven answered. “Last night I slipped through a puddle and was told to stay away from the exit. He said there were traps all over Foo.”

  “He?”

  “Some person or thing,” Leven said. “I couldn’t see him.”

  “So there are shadow and puddle traps?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, we should get back to Geth,” Clover warned. “Isn’t there another shadow you can step through?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What about the Waves?” Clover asked.

  Leven turned in the direction of the water. “Garnock! Garnock!” he yelled, calling out the name of the lead Wave.

  There was no answer, only the sound of small, lifeless waves brushing up against the shore.

  Leven stared at the ground. The path he was standing on sparkled under the moonlight. “Is that glass?”

  Clover jumped down and touched the ground. The wide path looked like a sheet of glass that had been broken up into a million small pieces. It stretched out as far as Leven could see.

  “Yep,” Clover answered.

  Leven turned from the water and began to walk quickly down the wide glass path.

  “Are we in a hurry?” Clover asked.

  “Yes,” Leven answered. “We only have three days, and now we’re stuck in the middle of Foo. Look for a puddle or a shadow or someone who can help us.”

  “We really shouldn’t even be here,” Clover said. “I mean, this place is sort of sacred and holy.”

  “I know,” Leven answered. “But it’s kind of cool, isn’t it?”

  “Extremely,” Clover said, shivering.

  Clover disappeared and Leven walked faster. The island of Alder was spongy and overgrown. Thick clusters of bushes grew everywhere, and rocks and hills were covered with grass and surrounded by trees. The wide path cut right through it all. Near a small hill dotted with large round rocks stood a faded red shack.

  “Isn’t that a house?” Leven asked, pointing down the road.

  Clover snapped back and looked in the direction Leven was pointing. “Yes.”

  “Let’s see if someone’s there.”

  “My mother always encouraged me to go into strange houses.”

  “She did?”

  “Well, only on certain days,” Clover admitted.

  Leven walked even faster, glass crunching beneath his feet.

  Chapter Six

  So Many Misfits

  The morning slowly shook the cold off to expose the warm body of day—the smell of salt and dirt and sea flowers filling the air. The mass of beings marching across the gloam added energy and excitement to the already highly charged air. Under the command of the Dearth, thousands had already reached the shores of Sycophant Run and were now moving to travel to the exit.

  Lore Coils were snapping and screaming across the gloam as the passion and excitement of what was actually happening generated emotions strong enough to create them.

  On the edge of the Sentinel Fields near Cusp, small battles still raged between rants and rogue nits who were not ready to give up Foo. Unfortunately, many nits from Cusp were now among those moving into the Sentinel Fields in an effort to get back to Reality.

  The possibility had never been a possibility before. However, now that returning to their families and loved ones and the lives that they had been snatched from was possible, many were making a dash for it. It looked as if the entire population of Foo had turned into emigrants who were running for the border.

  Azure leaned on Tim as they both pushed through the mountain of beings marching swiftly across the gloam. Tim stepped quickly, his thin frame and thinning hair making him look like more of a lightweight than he was. Tim had a kind face, and he was the kind of person most other people enjoyed being around. That wasn’t the case for Janet, who followed right beside them in her yellow housecoat with faded red flowers. Being a whisp, she had nothing to her but a faint image, and
at the moment her image was sweating.

  “Where are we going?” Tim asked.

  “To Sycophant Run,” Azure answered, his strength slowly returning. “The exit is at the far end near the Hard Border. If we just follow this crowd, everyone will end up in Reality.”

  Tim smiled.

  “So there really is a way out?” Janet asked.

  “There must be,” Azure said. “Can’t you see the darkness in the soil beneath us? The Dearth’s moving there as well, and soon Reality and Foo will be connected.”

  “I’m sacrificing my chance to be with Winter here to make things right,” Janet cried. “There has to be a way out.”

  “There is,” Azure comforted. “You’ll see.”

  “This isn’t right,” Swig spoke up. Swig was Tim’s sycophant. He was a kindly being who had done a fantastic job of helping Tim feel comfortable. In the short time they had been together, Tim had grown quite attached to the little guy.

  “Sycophants should keep their opinions to themselves,” Azure said.

  Swig blushed and disappeared.

  “He was just talking,” Tim said. “I kind of like to hear what he thinks.”

  Azure looked further wounded.

  “Go on,” Tim said to what looked like nothing

  “Foo’s not meant to have an exit,” Swig replied. “It is the fate of all who are here to remain here.”

  “That’s nothing but lore,” Azure insisted. “Cancerous lore. May the Dearth shrivel and die when he reaches Reality, but I believe for the rest of us it will be the beginning of a great new freedom.”

  “I heard you were a lithen once,” Swig said, still invisible.

  “I’m still a lithen,” Azure snapped.

  “What lithen would allow this to happen?” Swig asked innocently. “What lithen would put up with such evil?”

  “The meshing of Foo and Reality is not a mistake,” Azure said. “Lithens have simply been confused in the past.”

  “I believe him,” Tim said to Swig. “It seems wrong to just steal people from their lives.”

  “But you’ve not known Foo when it was peaceful,” Swig said sadly. “That is the purpose and the reason. Those who are snatched might experience temporary fear, but the wonder and the possibilities are a remarkable salve. That’s what we sycophants are here for—to make you comfortable.”

  “Sorry,” Tim tried. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Swig stayed silent as huge flocks of large birds flew overhead, screaming and shrieking at those below them. The birds dove and slid above the Veil Sea and shot over toward the direction of Sycophant Run. More and more creatures crowded the gloam, moving with purpose and speed.

  Janet’s large eyes swept across the landscape. She looked like a white walrus wearing a dress.

  Tim saw her looking. “I don’t see him either.”

  Janet blushed, embarrassed by Tim’s having read her mind.

  “But he has to be going the same direction,” Tim added compassionately.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “That fiery echo,” Swig spoke up. “The one you were always making eyes at.”

  “Osck,” Tim clarified.

  “An echo and a whisp?” Azure said in disgust.

  “Please,” Tim scolded Azure.

  Azure looked at Janet and apologized. His dark blue eyes were as bruised as old fruit, and his dark hair was dirty. His long blue robe was tattered at the bottom hem, and he limped as he walked. Despite his condition, he looked more human than he ever had. The darkness that had possessed him was gone and in its place was a vulnerable, beaten man. A day ago he had been the leader of every dark soul in Foo. But after the Dearth had nearly killed him, he was a different person.

  “We’ll catch up to Osck,” Tim promised Janet. “We’re all heading in the same direction.”

  “What if he was hurt in the battle?” she moaned. “Or worse?”

  “Echoes are a resilient breed,” Azure said, trying to be helpful. “It would take a true accident to take their lives.”

  “And Osck seemed like one of the strongest echoes,” Tim added. “The only thing he wanted more than seeing Reality was to be near you. I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of him.”

  Janet smiled and they all walked faster.

  Chapter Seven

  When the Whispering Fades

  Leven stood in the middle of an abandoned shack. It was the largest of three shacks clustered together, partially hidden behind a run of fantrum trees, on the side of a wide dirt road somewhere near the bottom of the island of Alder. The shack’s red fabric curtains and gold roping made Leven feel as if he were a prop standing in the middle of some poorly funded Arabian movie. The shack was built over a large square of stone ground. Inside, the floor was covered with thick, dusty rugs and plush roven hides. Thanks to Leven, there was now a small fire burning in a round pit to the side, the smoke from the fire dancing up and out into the dark sky as the flames sang softly.

  Leven’s on Alder, now we shall see

  If while on Alder he’ll reach the tree.

  Leven stared at the fire, and it began singing about something else.

  There was nobody else inside any of the shacks. But once inside, it would have been hard not to feel comfortable. It seemed as if the whole of Foo had washed away and there was nothing but the safety and warmth of the shack.

  In the center of the largest shack, hanging on a thick wooden beam above a small sink, was a square mirror. Leven gazed into that square and marveled at what he saw. He reached out and touched his own reflection, his pointer finger tracing the flat image of his gold right eye.

  “I’m old,” Leven whispered. He shivered and pulled his robe up tighter around his wide shoulders.

  Of course, to the boy who had been fourteen not too many weeks ago, anything over seventeen was old. Everything Leven had experienced since swimming into Foo had caused him to grow at a tremendous rate. His body was now hovering somewhere between ages eighteen and twenty.

  Leven studied his reflection. His face was fuller and his chin more defined. The ears that had seemed too big on him were considerably more fitting; they were also hidden behind the long, dark strands of his hair, which curled slightly. The few freckles Leven had once sported had long since dissolved like raw sugar in milk, leaving his skin clear and unspotted.

  “I look like a man,” Leven said.

  Leven stared into his own eyes and marveled at all the things he had seen with them in the last few weeks. He had seen his life in Reality disappear and the realm of Foo grow up around him. He had seen a host of unimaginable creatures and beings flood into his life. He had seen his grandmother taken away from him by the gunt. He had seen Geth change from a toothpick to a man. He had seen his grandfather selfishly pass on to him the mantle of the Want before dying in his arms. Leven’s eyes had seen the dreams of his own father, a father he had long thought dead. Leven had also seen Winter change from a girl to a woman.

  Leven’s thoughts warmed.

  Winter was far different from the unsure child who had first found him at his school not too many weeks ago. Leven caught his breath. He could feel his emotions and soul catching up to the rapid growth of his body.

  Leven pushed his hair back behind his ears and sighed. The sigh was as heavy and significant as any air he had ever released before.

  Through the walls of the shack, Leven could still hear the Dearth whispering from patches of distant soil. Ever since Leven had returned from fighting the Dearth, his head had been filled with the incessant hissing and beckoning of his enemy. The hissing sounded wounded and forlorn, as if Leven had hurt the Dearth and the Dearth now mourned his absence. Leven put his palms up over his ears and growled to himself. He dropped his hands and breathed in deeply.

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” he whispered, telling himself the secret. His reflection just stared back, looking sad.

  Leven shook his head and turned the wooden s
pigot above the sink. He pushed his hands into the cold flowing water and washed them in the small basin beneath the mirror. He dried his hands, pulled back his hair, and tried to listen better to the wailing of the Dearth. Leven’s one long white streak of hair slipped from his hold and hung loosely in front of his right ear. He sighed and watched it happen in the mirror.

  “You’re quite handsome,” Clover said casually.

  Leven jumped slightly. “I thought you were checking out the other shacks,” he said.

  Clover materialized on Leven’s left shoulder. He wore his small purple robe, the hood of it folded back. He was crouched and smiling innocently. His large, leaf-shaped ears fluttered and his small, hairless face scrunched as he sniffed and then blinked. The hair on the rest of his body was long and clean and he vaguely smelled of corn chips.

  “I was in the far shack,” Clover admitted. “But it’s not as warm as this. Why are you staring at yourself?”

  “Nothing, really,” Leven answered. “I guess I just can’t believe how old I am.”

  “Everybody ages,” Clover waved. “Maybe you should try some cream or something.”

  “Not that kind of old,” Leven laughed, shallow dimples appearing like grey smudges on his cheeks. “I was fourteen, and now? Well, I don’t exactly look fourteen any longer, do I?”

  “I’m not good with ages.”

  “It’s like I skipped five years of my life,” Leven explained.

  “What you’ve been through this last little bit was not skipping,” Clover said defensively. “You just got a whole lot of living crammed into a short bit.”

  “I know,” Leven agreed. “And now look at me—I look old.”

  “You look like Leven,” Clover pointed out. “Besides, how can you see anything? It’s so dark in here.”

  “Not to me,” Leven whispered reverently. “I can see the dreams everywhere.”

  “Really?”

  “Everywhere,” Leven insisted. He reached out his arms and brushed through the darkness. “I can feel the hopes and sadness of thousands of dreams. They feel like tiny pins. Look.” Leven clenched his right fist and grasped a spongy string of light. The dream glowed softly in his grasp like a limp glow stick. Leven pulled on the light with his left hand and stretched it like taffy. The elongated image of a small wooden boat blushed like a radiant tattoo.