Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

  Turrets

  The turrets of Foo are a large circle of stone turrets that surround a mile-high pillar of restoring flame. The turrets sit on a large area of Niteon and are surrounded by a high fence. The main way to the flame is through the gatehouse that sits miles away.

  The Want

  The Want is the virtually unseen but constantly felt sage of Foo. He lives on the island of Lith and can see every dream that comes in. He is prophetic and a bit mad from all the visions he has had.

  Waves of the Lime Sea

  The Waves of the Lime Sea are a mysterious and misunderstood group of beings who guard the island of Alder. Their loyalty is to the oldest tree that grows on the island.

  Whisps

  Whisps are the sad images of beings who were only partially snatched from Reality into Foo. They have no physical bodies, but they can think and reason. They are sought after for their ideas, but miserable because they can’t feel and touch anything.

  Leven Thumps and the Wrath of Ezra

  Visit us at leventhumps.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Skye, Obert.

  Leven Thumps and the wrath of Ezra / Obert Skye.

  p. cm.

  Summary: As Leven, Geth, and Winter continue their quest to save Foo

  from the invading armies of rants, a new threat arrives, the Dearth.

  ISBN 978-1-59038-963-8 (hardbound : alk. paper)

  eISBN 1-60641-678-2 (eletronic)

  [1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Voyages and travels—Fiction. 3. Fantasy.] I. Title.

  PZ7.S62877Ley 2008

  [Fic]—dc22 2008024801

  Printed in the United States of America

  Worzalla Publishing Company, Stevens Point, WI

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Clover

  I’m so sorry they now know

  Foreword

  Nutshell

  I remember it vividly.

  It happened years ago as I was innocently eating pie in a small pub in Europe. The pub was called Figamullers, the weather was chilly, and the pie was blueberry. The entire establishment smelled of mint and leather and I remember the waiter was wearing a black wig and spoke with a German accent.

  I was sitting there on a bar stool reading the paper when an old man stumbled in and sat next to me. He was a bearded fellow with a ruddy face and dark, honest eyes. He called himself Alder and he looked as if the weight of the world was stapled to his back. Even while sitting he had a difficult time not collapsing under the strain. The old man ordered a cup of potato soup and then proceeded to change my life by sharing a secret about a place, a secret he had been carrying around for years.

  I offered to pay for his soup and he thanked me by taking me into his full confidence. He knew of Foo—but more importantly, he knew that in time Leven Thumps would be called up and the balance of all dreams would be perched on the shoulders of a young boy and his capable friend Winter.

  He told me that he himself was trapped in Reality. He told me of a person called the Want and how Leven and Geth and Winter would all be tricked by this selfish man. He told me how sides would gather in Foo and how Reality would slowly be brought into the war. He told me how many would brush the war off as unimportant or unbelievable. How some would find it silly or refuse to acknowledge it despite the fact that signs were everywhere. But what struck me the most was his knowledge of a being called the Dearth and how he believed that the Dearth, if left unchallenged, would destroy all of mankind and force the world back into a state of soil. He told me how if dreams die, mankind would wither and our existence would matter no more. He told me how a person gets to Foo and how fate snatches those it needs. He also ordered a second bowl of soup.

  Leven’s life before with Terry and Addy was horrible. Leven was lucky Winter got away from her nasty guardian, Janet, and helped him race across the world to find the gateway into Foo. He blew up the gateway believing it was the best thing for Foo. He followed Geth across the realm so that Geth could be restored, and he was tricked into becoming the Want so that Hector could finally rest in peace—leaving Leven in the position of the Want and in control of the entire fate of Foo.

  Now the final unfolding has begun. The seven keys of Foo have been used and the Dearth is rising. The sycophants are in danger and in Reality Terry and Addy are about to join forces with a one-time janitor and the angriest, most confused toothpick alive—Ezra.

  I have written many things and hope to write many more. But it is Foo which matters most. There would be little reason to lie down at night without the possibility of seeing things bigger and more amazing than the average day might bring about. Why pick up a pen or type on a keyboard if there’s no imagination or wonder left to behold? I would hate to be in the position of hoping for nothing simply because my brain can no longer dream.

  Foo is an amazing place. So much is happening there. There are many new creatures and beings; places and powers and confusion abound. But it really comes down to this—good versus evil and hope versus the cold, lonely existence of selfishness.

  Believe—it is our best defense.

  Chapter One

  Nothing Looks the Same

  in the Light

  The orange sun shifted in the green sky, sending rippling waves of soft yellow warmth down upon the bulk of Foo. The heat hit anyone standing in the open and caused most to wish they

  hadn’t dressed as heavily as they had. The scent of freshly tilled dirt filled the air and gave the sun’s rays something to push and twist themselves through. A fat goat waddled across a mossy field, its stomach only inches from the ground. The goat stopped and mewed loudly, bothered by the intensity of the heat.

  The mischievous sun shined even brighter.

  “Why won’t the sun just make up its mind?” a tall cog named Colin complained. “I thought it was supposed to be cold today?”

  “I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” a taller cog named Tanner replied.

  The two boys were wearing hats that covered their orange

  foreheads and long work robes that were bound at the ankles so as to not get in the way. Like most cogs they were at work, doing what needed to be done to keep things moving in Foo. Their blue hands were covered with gloves made from sheepskin.

  “Look, we’re over halfway finished,” Colin said proudly. “This field’s gonna be ready for planting early.”

  “Then let’s move slower,” Tanner said, looking around. “The sooner we finish the sooner we’ll have to do something else.”

  Colin’s diamond-tipped rake pierced the dirt with a satisfying twitch. Colin pulled the rake back, turning over the earth slowly. Bright red dirt bubbled up, mixing with the sun-darkened topsoil and bits of green moss.

  “I like how that looks,” Colin said, pointing to the ground.

  “You love the dirt?” Tanner joked.

  Colin pushed Tanner. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “You know what?” Tanner said. “We could stop working for a little bit. It’s not like anyone’s going to see us out here.”

  The fat goat stared at them.

  “Except for that goat,” Tanner added. “And guess what, I brought some Spitstick.”

  Colin stopped working and leaned on his rake. “I thought your mom said she’d freeze you if she caught you with any more candy.”

  “My mother’s not going to catch me,” Tanner said, dropping his rake. “Not here.”

  Tanner reached into his robe and pulled out two short brown tubes. He handed one to Colin.

  “You first.” Colin looked around nervously.

  Tanner popped the top of his off and took a long lick, swirling the Spitstick around inside his mouth.

  “Lemon,” he reported.

  Colin opened his and did the same.

  “Plum,” he said, disappointed.

  “Well,” Tanner said, “it’s not like we eat this stuff for the taste.”

  Both boys’ mouths began to bubble.

&
nbsp; Tanner gurgled, the sides of his throat fizzing while his mouth filled with saliva. The pressure in his throat built to the point where he had to cock his head back and open his mouth. He thrust backwards as a large wad of spit shot from his mouth and out into the air. The giant ball of yellow saliva traveled over three hundred feet and slapped down near the back of the field by a cluster of tall pointed trees.

  “Na bad,” Colin tried to say. “Wahch dis.”

  Colin’s throat fizzed intensely as his salivary glands excreted massive amounts of spit into his mouth. He struggled to keep his lips closed, letting it build to the maximum amount. His head shook and he stamped his feet as his cheeks expanded to the size of grapefruits. His neck bulged.

  “Spit!” Tanner yelled. “Remember what happened to Lark?”

  Colin held it two seconds more. Then, right before his mouth exploded, he cocked his head back and opened his mouth. A cannonball sized, plum-colored spitball blew from his mouth. Colin was knocked back onto his rear, his teeth clicking as he fell. The spit arched high into the green air and traveled twice as far as Tanner’s. It splashed down out of view, bits of it flinging back up into the air.

  “Did you see that?” Colin said proudly.

  “You’re crazy,” Tanner replied. “Lark still can’t hear out of his left ear, and he ruined his pants.”

  “Let’s go see where it landed,” Colin said, ignoring Tanner. “I bet it was five hundred feet away.”

  “I bet it wasn’t,” Tanner argued, taking off running.

  They left the fat goat alone, crossed the field, and zigzagged through the trees. They passed the large yellow spot where Tanner’s shot had come down and ran a few hundred feet more.

  “There!” Tanner shouted.

  To their left on the ground was a huge plum-colored splash mark. It was at least five feet wide and about a foot longer.

  “Whoa, that’s as big as I’ve ever seen,” Tanner said.

  “Let’s try it again,” Colin said, opening back up his Spitstick.

  “Wait,” Tanner whispered. “Did you hear something?”

  “Only the sound of you chickening out.”

  “No seriously, listen.”

  Colin sighed and listened. “It’s the wind.”

  “No,” Tanner insisted. “Something’s moaning. Over there.”

  They ran up and over, sliding down a small ditch bank by a dry creek.

  “Hhhhaaaahhggg,” a dry voice moaned. “Hhhahgg.”

  “That’s not the wind,” Colin said, frightened. “We should get back to work.”

  “Now who’s scared?” Tanner whispered.

  “Hhhhhhahhhhg.”

  “That’s not a good sound,” Colin said.

  “Over there,” Tanner pointed.

  On the edge of the ditch bank there was a short gouge in the soil. A black ooze was moving out of the crack.

  “What is it?” Colin said, his heart beating faster.

  They walked slowly towards the gouge.

  “Is it mud?” Colin asked.

  As they got closer they could see the black ooze actually had some form. It was partway out of the ground and not moving. Tanner picked up a stick and reached out to prod it. As he touched it the black form rolled over. It had the shape of a head and arms but it was completely black, as if made from tar. Two dark eyes flashed open, looking directly at the boys, and its mouth relaxed, letting out a long, dry, make-you-never-want-to-be-alone-in-the-dark-ever-again noise.

  “Hhhhhhhaaaaaagghhhh.”

  The boys screamed in harmony and then fell over each other as they scrambled to climb out of the ditch. Once out they ran as fast as they could, never looking back and never fully realizing what they had witnessed.

  It had been many hundreds of years since any part of the Dearth had been able to push up out of the soil. The Dearth closed his eyes and moaned again. He lopped onto his stomach and reached his dark arms out. He dug his long fingers into the soil and strained to pull himself further out of the gouge. Exhausted, the Dearth moaned in agony and frustration and collapsed against the ground.

  The sound of footsteps shuffling across the ground could be heard. The shuffling became louder and louder.

  “Aaazurrrrre,” the Dearth moaned.

  “Over here!” one of Azure’s rants yelled. “Here.”

  Azure moved down the ditch bank surrounded by four rants. He reached his arms forward and parted his way out of those guarding him.

  “Aaaazurrre,” the Dearth moaned again.

  “I’m here,” Azure said, falling to his knees. “I’ve found you.”

  Azure wrapped his arms around the Dearth and with great effort pulled him all the way from the soil.

  The Dearth screamed in pain. He was thin and looked like a pitch-black rubbery mannequin. His body was spongy to the touch and as limp as moist rags.

  Azure picked him up and carried him down the ditch and up to a long-abandoned dirt road. There were dozens of rants on the road. They all had kilves and stood by onicks. At the head of the group was a cart with two onicks strapped to the front. On each onick sat a rant. Azure stepped up as if to climb into the cart.

  “No,” the Dearth hissed. “Drag me, I must feel the soil.”

  “Of course,” Azure said.

  Azure laid the Dearth down behind the cart. He retrieved a short length of rope and tied one end around the Dearth’s waist. He then tied the other end to the back of the wagon.

  “Are you certain?” Azure asked.

  “Travel slowly,” the Dearth moaned. “My strength will build.”

  Azure climbed up onto the wagon and hissed at the riders. Slowly the cart began to move, dragging the Dearth behind it.

  The remaining rants rode in formation behind as the Dearth whispered softly, “Leeeeven.”

  Chapter Two

  The Trappings of Comfort

  There’s some great real estate in Foo—beautiful spots that bring new meaning to the word gorgeous. I love the property above the Sun River and just below the Pillars of Rant. I also wouldn’t mind buying a lot near the mountains at the edge of Morfit. But without a doubt the long span of land on the back side of the Devil’s Spiral reaching over to the start of the Fté mountains is some of the most beautiful land in all of Foo. There isn’t a bad blade of grass to be found growing anywhere on it. For this reason most of the elite and pompous have filled the land with castles and mansions. They have also built many walls in an effort to keep the un-elite from getting too close to them.

  It was down from one of those walls that Leven dropped, hitting the ground with a soft thud. The night was dark, but the large house in the distance was well lit. It sat there like a proud mother showing off all her rooms. The land was miles back from the Devil’s Spiral, but the sound of rushing water could still be heard faintly in the distance.

  Leven waved and Winter dropped down behind him.

  “Looks cozy,” she whispered.

  Leven pulled his kilve from behind his back and swung it forward. The long wooden staff glowed slightly at its top.

  “Geth should be in place by now,” he said quietly. “Clover, you here?”

  Leven felt something shiver on his right shoulder.

  “Good, let’s go.”

  Leven stepped quietly along the wall and down through the brick courtyard. Large stone statues, shaped like roven in various attack positions, lined the path.

  “Makes you feel so warm and welcome,” Winter said.

  Leven looked at Winter and thought of Phoebe. The longing his grandfather had shown him before Lith was destroyed weighed constantly on his mind. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it was so powerful it kept creeping back into his soul. Looking at Winter only reminded him that Phoebe was still trapped.

  “I smell mice,” Clover whispered, bringing Leven’s thoughts back to the situation at hand.

  Winter pulled out her kilve.

  “I wish I could just freeze them,” she said.

  “Mice?” Leven a
sked.

  Leven and Winter moved behind two statues and listened carefully. Leven could see a pack of large creatures running towards them. They were three feet high with long legs and square noses that twitched as they ran. Their round ears and long, rubbery tails gave them a rodentlike silhouette. There were at least a dozen of them.

  “Those are the mice?” Leven complained.

  Winter didn’t answer; she was too busy knocking the wind out of the closest one. The poor beast slid across the stone and up against a far statue.

  Leven looked at the creatures. Their faces were expressive and he could see and feel what their small brains were thinking. Leven’s heart pumped with confusion and then clarity. Without understanding his own actions he stepped forward and held out his hands. The mice stopped and looked up at him. Their heads twitched and their feet tapped as if being forced to stay in place.

  “What are you doing?” Winter whispered.

  “I don’t have any idea,” Leven replied.

  The mice folded their legs inward and fell to the ground.

  “Wow,” Clover said. “That’s helpful.”

  Leven and Winter stepped carefully through the large, resting creatures.

  “Seriously,” Winter said, hushed. “How did . . .”

  “Leeeven,” the sky said softly.

  “What?” Leven asked, looking around.

  “Leeeven,” the sky whispered.

  “Someone’s calling my name,” Leven said quietly.

  “Well, it’s not me,” Winter whispered. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Me neither,” Clover said. “Sometimes the wind can sound like a person humming.”

  “I don’t think it’s the wind.”

  Leven shook his head. They moved closer to the house. Through the large side window they could see someone sitting inside near a huge fire.