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- Herausgeber: Pushkin Children's Books
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
Oksa Pollock's worlds are dying, and she faces her toughest challenge yet: to bring our world, and her magical ancestral home, Edefia, back to life again. As Earth collapses, only the power that Oksa inherits as Graciousness will be anywhere near enough to save them. But between her and hope lies her most wicked enemy: Ocious, the cause of all her family's heartbreak. There are other things on her mind, too: her mother and her best friend Gus are trapped back in our world, her almost-boyfriend Tugdual is behaving oddly, and her grandmother has been lost to them altogether. If Ocious is able to take someone else close to Oksa, the future of both worlds would be in greater danger than ever...
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Seitenzahl: 492
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016
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For Zoe, always, and for the people we hold dear to our hearts.
CONTENTS
PART ONE
CONQUEST
1
A DATE WITH DESTINY
DEEP IN THE SEVENTH BASEMENT OF THE GLASS COLUMN, the door was blazing with the mesmerizing intensity of molten metal. Oksa squinted, dazzled by the blinding light spilling out from around the door frame and through the keyhole. It was time to enter the Cloak Chamber at last. Images of the past flooded her mind, reminding her of everything she’d gone through, from the moment she’d discovered her remarkable gifts in her London home to her arrival in Edefia. These memories merely served to strengthen her resolve, though. She took a deep breath and turned round to look at the semicircle of people watching her—her father and the Runaways in the middle, flanked by Ocious and the Felons, who were glowering at her. Everyone was there. Everyone except the four people whose absence had left an aching void in her heart: her mother, Gus—who was so much more than a friend—Dragomira, her late gran, and enigmatic Tugdual, with whom she was so deeply in love.
Oksa screwed up her eyes to hide her violent emotions and protect her gaze from the intense glare radiated by the door. Endlessly reflected and magnified by the multifaceted precious stones lining the walls, the light was growing brighter with every second. The disagreeable stroboscopic effect created by the aerobatics of the Death’s Head Chiropterans and Vigilians high above the Runaways’ heads was also becoming unbearable. Oksa looked up in disgust at those revolting tiny bats and winged caterpillars, sorely tempted to put an end to the torture by cremating them all with a Fireballistico.
“At last!” whispered Ocious, raising his hand and clicking his fingers to halt the frenetic comings and goings of his airborne escorts.
The imperious old man took a few steps towards Oksa. Pavel Pollock stiffened but Abakum—the wise Fairyman—caught his eye and made a pacifying gesture.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” exulted Ocious. “But since you arrived, my dear Oksa, those long, hard years have ceased to matter. The Cloak Chamber has reappeared and you will enter it as our new designated Gracious. There you will be enthroned, making it possible for me—for us—to accomplish our mission.”
“Your mission? You’re such a megalomaniac!” protested Oksa, clenching her fists. “Anyway, you know very well I’m not here for you, I’m here to save the two worlds! You’ve got nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.”
The Felon gave an evil smile.
“Poor child,” he said. “You’re so naive!”
“You fancy yourself as the ruler of Edefia,” continued Oksa furiously, “but you’re just an ageing psychopath without a future. You’ve been nothing but a curse on the inhabitants of this magnificent land, which is dying because of you, and you still think you’re stronger than anyone. You’re pathetic! Can’t you feel some remorse for once? There’s still time to show you’re a man, not a monster.”
“Oksa,” implored Pavel, “be quiet!”
Beside herself with anger, Oksa was pulling at the hem of her blue tee-shirt hard enough to rip it.
“I don’t give a damn for your impertinent opinion,” sneered Ocious. “Don’t forget I’m the one with the power of life and death over your family and friends until you come out again.”
Ocious waved a hand and the guards in leather armour posted around the vast circular hall closed ranks around the Runaways. Then, with a speed that took everyone by surprise, he launched himself at Pavel and caught him in a firm neck hold. Drawing himself up to his full height, he glared evilly at Oksa.
“Now, you’ll do me the great pleasure of entering that Chamber, restoring the equilibrium and coming out again to open the Portal for me. Do you understand, girlie?”
Before Oksa could reply she was suddenly distracted by a movement in the highest part of the seventh basement’s vaulted ceiling, which was lined with blue gems. A gorgeous bird with wings of fire flew among the Chiropterans and Vigilians, which scattered to let it pass. It circled above their heads with silent grace before landing at Oksa’s feet. The heart-stopping solemnity of this moment caused both Felons and Runaways to hold their breath.
“My Phoenix!” murmured Oksa.
The sublime creature bowed, then stretched out its foot and opened its talons to reveal a key decorated with an eight-pointed star—the emblem of Edefia, which had changed Oksa’s life when it had appeared around her belly button. The key fell to the ground, raising plumes of fine sparkling dust, then the Phoenix uttered a throaty caw and took off again, disappearing into the lofty dome.
“My Young Gracious is henceforth in possession of the final component,” declared a small chubby creature, hurrying over to pick up the key and offer it to Oksa.
“Thank you, my Lunatrix,” replied Oksa, holding out her hand. The key was surprisingly heavy and so cold to the touch that she almost dropped it. A few yards away, the door to the Chamber grew larger with a roaring noise caused by the intense heat. Oksa trembled.
“The flames of hell…” she said, with a grimace.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“No, sweetheart,” whispered Abakum in her ear. “Your date with destiny.”
Turning to meet the Fairyman’s eyes, Oksa gave him a faint smile. Feeling powerful and actually being powerful were two different things.
“Will you at least let me give my daughter some moral support?” growled Pavel, struggling to free himself from Ocious’s grip.
“If you must,” sighed the elderly Felon. He released Pavel, but kept his Granok-Shooter trained on him.
Looking distraught, Pavel walked over to Oksa and held her so tightly she could feel his heart racing.
“Everything will be fine, Dad,” she said quietly, as if trying to reassure herself.
Then, emptying her mind of all thoughts and refusing to look at anyone, she walked towards the Chamber, which was brimming with light.
2
MEETING IN THE CHAMBER
AS SOON AS OKSA PUT THE KEY IN THE LOCK, SHE FOUND herself transported to the other side of the dazzling surface. The door swung shut with a deafening crash that sounded like a thunderclap, then disappeared, merging with the wall. The alarmed shouts of the spectators were instantly cut off, as if Oksa had passed into another dimension.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
Her body had just risen above the ground as if weightless and was now suspended in mid-air. She felt as light as a feather. Her chestnut hair was floating limply around her head as she pulled her arms through the air in a gentle breaststroke to move away from the door.
“Wow…” she murmured.
She couldn’t help pirouetting. Although Vertiflying gave her an intense feeling of power, this new experience was incredible. She’d always dreamt of trying out zero gravity one day, like an astronaut, but who’d have thought she’d get the chance here, in Edefia, the invisible land, once lost and now found? She looked around carefully. The Chamber was too bright for her to make out its shape or size. She blinked, awed and intrigued. She was no longer afraid—this place and its astonishing lack of gravity had a calming, almost hypnotic effect, even though she’d never felt more alert. She was intensely aware of everything—her living bracelet, the Curbita-Flatulo, undulating steadily to regulate her unruly emotions, the pulse of blood as it coursed through her veins, as well as the uncanny silence of the Chamber.
Was the radiance dimming or was she slowly becoming more used to it? Whatever the case, Oksa was relieved that the brightness was growing more tolerable. Without any bearings to guide her, she moved forward with a few cautious breaststrokes, thinking about her gran. Dragomira had promised they’d see each other again on the day she was enthroned in the Cloak Chamber—and now that red-letter day in the life of a Young Gracious was here.
“Baba? Are you there?” she ventured hoarsely. Floating in the air, unsure whether she was horizontal or vertical, she wrapped her arms around herself for reassurance. It was slowly becoming apparent that the room was a vast, perfectly round igloo, supported by pearly-white columns. Oksa gazed about, her attention caught by a phenomenon occurring behind her. The walls had lost their cloudy appearance and were now crystal-clear, like a mirror without the silvering. Oksa could see everyone in the seventh basement. Her father was sitting on the ground, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was struggling to cope with this separation, which was, as far as he was concerned, the last straw after so many tough ordeals. Oksa “swam” over to the wall and put her hand on one of the blocks of crystal.
“Dad…” she murmured.
“He can’t see or hear you, Dushka,” said a voice close to her.
“Baba!” exclaimed Oksa, turning round, her eyes shining. “You came!”
The halo of light in front of her was hazier than the one she’d encountered in the cave of the Singing Spring a few hours earlier, but there was no room for doubt: the crown of plaits around her head, the regal silhouette and the low, soothing voice—Dragomira had kept her promise. Oksa floated towards her and wailed with disappointment as she passed through the golden shadow that was now her beloved gran. Dragomira was there, but she was dead. Oksa was pained by this cruel reminder. What she could see before her was her gran’s soul, an extension of her life, a manifestation from the eternal realm to which she now belonged. It was heartbreaking and, at the same time, so comforting… The shadow bore down on her, enveloping her in warmth. Oksa tried to smother a sob.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” she said, dashing her tears away with her hand. “I didn’t want to be on my own in this place.”
“Did you doubt me?” asked Dragomira.
“No!” replied Oksa firmly.
“Why are you crying, then?”
Oksa looked away, then turned back to the golden shadow.
“I miss you so much, Baba…”
The words stuck in her throat.
“I miss you too, Dushka. But this is no time for weakness, otherwise everything we’ve worked towards, everything we’ve gone through, will have been for nothing. Tell me exactly how you’re feeling.”
“I still don’t understand all kinds of things,” conceded Oksa. “One thing I do know, though, is that I’d like to take down that creep Ocious so I don’t have to worry about what he might do at any moment to the people I love. He may be old, but he’s strong. And very dangerous.”
“He isn’t that old!” chuckled Dragomira.
“Are you kidding, Baba? He must be at least a hundred!”
“Which is the prime of life in Edefia… and don’t forget that he probably has some Nontemporentas in his possession.”
“Pearls of Longevity? That’s true,” admitted Oksa. “I’m not afraid of him, you know. If he wasn’t blackmailing me so shamelessly by threatening Dad and the Runaways, I wouldn’t hesitate to face him, or his sons.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second, Dushka. Still, even if you can fight him, be on your guard. And watch out for Orthon, in particular. He’s even worse than his father now.”
Frowning, Oksa said nothing for a moment, then asked without preamble:
“Do you think I’ll be able to leave Edefia again?”
The golden shadow dimmed appreciably. Until now, this subject had brought to mind the image of a mortally wounded Malorane, followed by that of Dragomira disappearing from the top of a dune. The cost of opening the Portal had always been the life of a Gracious, as stipulated by the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told. No one knew whether this was still the case now that the Secret had been destroyed. Did the Graciouses have to sacrifice their lives for others to pass through to the Outside? And, quite apart from the issue of opening Edefia’s Portal, there was another burning question: would Oksa and the Runaways ever be reunited with the Spurned—the family and friends not permitted to enter Edefia? Breathlessly Oksa waited to hear Dragomira’s answers, until she realized her gran wasn’t intending to say anything. She sighed, then raised her head.
“What must I do, Baba?”
“Come here…”
Oksa allowed herself to be guided to the centre of the immense Chamber.
“Would you hand me the pendant you were given by the Corpusleoxes?” asked Dragomira.
Oksa slipped the strange gem over her head and took out her Granok-Shooter to summon a Reticulata. She examined it closely with the jellyfish-like magnifying glass, then handed the pendant to her gran; the miniature Earth was buffeted by hurricanes as seas ate into the coastline like a giant ravenous monster. The small ball vibrated in her palm and the ground in the Chamber began to shake: convulsed with pain, the world was continually being beset by new torments.
“Is this really the Earth?” asked Oksa.
“What you see is only a representation, of course, but it faithfully mirrors every occurrence as it happens,” replied Dragomira.
Oksa glanced apprehensively at England and her face fell. She handed the pendant nervously to Dragomira.
“Mum and Gus are in danger, Baba,” she whispered. “We have to act quickly!”
Oksa watched as the sphere floating in front of her rose to eye level and swelled to nearly twelve feet in diameter. Then it began revolving on its own axis, revealing the Earth’s surface, badly ravaged by the disasters that had befallen it over the past few weeks.
“How terrible!” exclaimed the Young Gracious, alarmed by the extent of the damage, which was now clearly visible.
When the sphere had completed a full turn, the seas and lands became transparent, revealing what lay beneath, and Oksa could clearly make out the Earth’s structure. The seabed, bristling with peaks and troughs, appeared before her. Oksa watched in amazement as the tectonic plates shifted and separated and magma formed in the depths of volcanoes.
“Look! The Mariana Trench!” exclaimed Oksa, staring at a huge gash at the bottom of the Pacific.
She found she could see into the dense, yet transparent, bowels of the Earth all the way to its core. Suddenly, the sphere shrank until it was half as small again and the planets of the universe appeared before her, from massive Jupiter to tiny Pluto. Finally, the majestic sun took up its position and everything began moving around it in a perfectly choreographed dance. Oksa looked around for the golden shadow of her gran.
“This is incredible, Baba!”
Her hair was tenderly ruffled by way of an answer. Oksa tried to catch hold of whatever had done it, but remained empty-handed. She frowned and her eyes misted over with inconsolable sadness. She groaned, lips trembling. Immediately, she felt Dragomira embracing her and tipping her chin up: she couldn’t afford to become disheartened. She wiped away the tears and gently propelled herself forward by moving her arms through the air and kicking her feet, unable to tear her eyes away from the revolving planets as they followed their precise and complex path around the sun.
Suddenly a beam brighter than all the others shot from the fiery ball of the sun. Oksa waited for the Earth to complete a full turn and realized that the beam was widening to a cone of light which illuminated a small section of the Gobi Desert.
“That’s Edefia, that’s where we are, isn’t it, Baba?”
“Yes,” replied the shadow. “But watch what happens next.”
Like a laser, the beam of light continued its journey below the surface of the Earth, burrowing into its depths to reach the core—which Oksa was sure she could see palpitating.
“But I’ve always thought that the centre of the Earth was inert!” she stammered. “Isn’t it supposed to be made of iron? At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what I was taught at school.”
“Don’t forget that everything comprising our world is alive,” corrected Dragomira. “Listen, sweetheart…”
Doing as she was told, Oksa soon heard a weak, irregular beat that sounded like a sick heart.
“Let me guess, Baba—we’ve got to mend the Earth’s core, haven’t we? Like engineers? Or surgeons?”
Dragomira paused for a moment, then announced in a voice full of emotion:
“It would be more accurate to say that we’re going to save the Heart of the Two Worlds, Dushka. Like Graciouses.”
3
CARDIAC MASSAGE
SINCE OKSA HAD COME BACK FROM THE SINGING SPRING, Orthon McGraw had done his utmost to dictate when Oksa entered the Chamber. Two violent attempts to force her hand had been thwarted, first by the ever vigilant Runaways and then by his father, Ocious, who had authoritatively stepped in.
“Last time I looked, I was still the ruler of Edefia!” he’d declared to his son.
Orthon had swallowed his hurt pride as best he could, but no one was in any doubt that the Felon’s bitter resentment might prompt him to commit all manner of atrocities—the most unforgivable of which would be to harm Oksa in order to prevent her from accomplishing her rescue mission. No one knew how far he would go and there was always the chance he might commit a kamikaze attack. Orthon was a loose cannon, a constant danger. If his father pushed him too far, would he destroy everything to prove he was the stronger?
They had been living in a state of anxiety for so long that when a score of Ageless Ones passed through the walls of the Chamber, Oksa’s first reaction was to arm herself with her Granok-Shooter, her magical blowpipe.
“Don’t worry, Dushka,” said Dragomira, enveloping her. “You’re in no danger here.”
“It’s time for your enthronement,” said an Ageless Fairy, her hair undulating like seaweed at the bottom of the sea.
Like her companions, she had a hazy silhouette and an incredibly soothing presence. The Ageless Ones approached Oksa holding out a long piece of deep-red cloth.
“Your Cloak, Young Gracious,” she said. “We began embroidering it the day you were born.”
“But how did you know it would be me?”
“We knew,” replied the Fairy.
She unfolded the garment and Oksa examined the beautiful embroidery with a cry of admiration.
“The thread was made from the feathers of your phoenix,” explained the Fairy. “Then each strand was dyed with decoctions made from plants or stones and embroidered onto a piece of fabric prepared by our most skilled weavers.”
“It’s magnificent,” whispered Oksa, staring at the patterns. “I’m sure there isn’t anything comparable on Earth. Not even the emperors in China had something like this!”
The bottom of the Cloak depicted the huge, intertwined roots of a tree, then uneven soil, and grass dotted with thousands of flowers, each one unique and sublime. Above this vegetation flew bees, birds, dragonflies and other winged creatures. Higher up, at waist level, the abundant foliage of the tree spread out in myriad shades of green. Then the red background darkened to an almost black night sky dotted with stars, planets and the sun with its magical beam falling to Earth. The Ageless Ones turned the Cloak to reveal the eight-pointed star, the emblem of Edefia. Oksa instinctively rested her hand on her stomach. She knew that the mark, which had designated her as the next Gracious, was still around her belly button. She could feel its comforting warmth.
“Take it, Young Gracious. This is your Cloak.”
Oksa looked at Dragomira. Her gran was no ordinary woman. She’d agreed to give up her mortal life to open the Portal to Edefia, so that her loved ones and the two worlds would have a chance of survival. However, her sacrifice meant that she’d never complete her training as a Gracious—she’d never enjoy the privilege of wearing her Cloak, of facing the future with her people, or of watching her successor grow up.
“I have a different destiny ahead of me, Dushka,” came the much-loved voice.
“So the Lunatrix was right,” murmured Oksa, a lump in her throat.
The Gracious’s small steward hadn’t wanted to tell Oksa everything he knew when she had questioned him, but the Young Gracious now realized that her hunch had been correct: Dragomira would be the Infinite Entity, the supreme Ageless One who embodied the equilibrium of the two worlds once their heart was saved.
“It’s a huge honour for me to be able to help those I love,” said Dragomira.
“It’s so much more than that, Baba!” exclaimed Oksa. “You’ll embody a new future for humanity! Everything will depend on you, do you realize how incredible that is?”
Dragomira’s silhouette became more solid and Oksa could have sworn she saw her gran smile. A wave of affection washed over her, filling her with what she felt was unshakeable resolve. She floated towards the Ageless Fairy who was holding out the Cloak and let her drape it around her shoulders. Its colour was such a dark red that it looked almost black and its fabric was soft as velvet and light as silk. What was more, each fibre seemed to radiate power, a supernatural energy that galvanized Oksa like an electric shock. In amazement, she saw her whole life flash past her eyes, from her earliest moments of blissful innocence to her most painful ordeals, separations, betrayals and regrets. The last image of Marie Pollock, her mother, left behind on the cold sand of the desert, made her whimper. She saw again in quick succession her last memories of Gus and Tugdual, her lifelong attachment to the former and her irresistible attraction to the latter, their kisses, and her uncertainties. Then dark clouds crackling with flashes of lightning descended over the sphere hovering a few yards from her, and a terrible earth tremor shook the Glass Column to its foundations.
“Tell me what to do!” begged Oksa, her eyes fixed on the rising waters around Great Britain.
Without further ado, the Ageless Ones encircled her and led her to the darkened sphere. They rolled up the sleeve of the Cloak and the longer one of her tee-shirt, then took her hand and plunged it into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Oksa felt her arm plunge through the icy water, then pass easily through the Earth’s crust. For a second she was afraid she might be burnt by the incandescent lava, which was bubbling fiercely, but her hand, guided by the fairies, sank as smoothly into the depths of the Earth as if it were… crème fraîche! Finally, with her arm buried up to the shoulder, she reached the core. The crucial moment had come.
“But what am I supposed to do?” wailed Oksa. “I’m going to ruin everything! Help me!”
“Take it in your hand, Young Gracious!” whispered an Ageless Fairy. “Take the Heart of the Two Worlds in your hand and bring it back to life!”
Oksa obeyed, determined not to allow panic to get the better of her and destroy their last hopes. She seized the core which was palpitating weakly and, instinctively, began to massage it.
Its spongy, elastic texture made Oksa think of raw flesh, which was disconcerting. Concentrating hard, she attempted to transfer to it the tremendous power she felt inside her, while continuing to exert a steady, rhythmic pressure. The waves of the ocean lapped around her shoulder, harmless on this reduced scale but lethal for anyone who was in the sea. As for the black clouds, Oksa saw them pass in front of her face. She tried blowing them away, but soon realized she was powerless to affect their course: the clouds were free as air. One of them, bristling with lightning, grazed her neck.
“Ouch!” she said, putting her free hand over the spot which had just been struck by a tiny bolt of lightning.
“Concentrate, Oksa!” rang out Dragomira’s voice.
Flushing, the Young Gracious continued her resuscitation attempt. The Cloak poured its incredible energy into her muscles and nerves, while Oksa transferred strength and hope to the sick heart. The hours passed, and she was aching all over. Dragomira and the Ageless Ones floated by her side, powerless to do anything but give moral support and boost her spirits, which were sapped by exhaustion. Oksa had by now realized that the success of this massive rescue operation depended on her alone, and the anxiety this caused her soon became harder to bear than the physical exertion.
The Earth steadily continued turning. The continents and oceans rolled past in slow succession and Oksa was alternately subjected to the heat of the deserts, the humidity of the tropics and the biting cold of the poles. The drastic changes in temperature made her shiver or perspire relentlessly, testing her body to the extreme. Vast Siberia passed before her eyes and she had a sudden thought. Part of her origins was down there, beneath the snow. A permanent part, as eternal as the mountains forming a wall through the centre of Europe. France brushed her cheek, then England appeared. Oksa followed the course of the swollen Thames. With her whole body tirelessly at work, she became aware that a piece of her was slipping away.
“Mum! Gus!” she cried.
4
BEYOND A SHADOW OF A DOUBT
WITH THE SLEEVES OF HIS TRACKSUIT TOP ROLLED UP to the elbows, Gus Bellanger was doing his best to stick down the floor tiles that had lifted in the floods. Suddenly he raised his head, automatically pushing back a strand of black hair which fell over his face. A few seconds later, Marie Pollock gave a cry. Gus looked at her, amazed.
“It’s not… possible…” he muttered.
He stood motionless in the middle of what had once been the Pollocks’ living room, his dark blue eyes wide. Then, coming back to his senses, he slowly shook his head. Virginia Fortensky—Cameron’s wife and Leomido’s daughter-in-law—hurried over, abandoning the dishes she’d been drying in the adjoining kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
Gus ignored the question and crouched down in front of Marie.
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he asked softly.
Clutching at the armrests of her wheelchair, Marie nodded, too choked to utter the slightest word.
“Oksa? Are you there?” called Gus, reeling with excitement. “Oksa!”
The Spurned, who were now living in the Pollocks’ London house in Bigtoe Square, came running when they heard his cries. Gus was in the middle of the room, gazing into space, clearly searching for something which he couldn’t see.
Marie, who was just as agitated, was looking around wildly too.
“What’s up with you both?” asked Kukka Knut.
Naftali and Brune’s granddaughter stared at them, intrigued. Gus collapsed into a rickety armchair. He remained silent for a moment before he could reply:
“Oksa was here.”
“What?” chorused the Spurned in surprise.
“Oksa was here,” repeated Gus, brushing back a long strand of hair.
“But Gus, you know that’s impossible!” said Kukka, going over to him.
She put her hand on his shoulder, her husky-dog blue eyes staring at him in disbelief. Gus violently shrugged her off, as if burnt by her touch.
“Don’t look at me like that!” he yelled. “I don’t need your pity!”
“But Gus,” protested Kukka, going white. “It’s not pity!”
Gus jumped up from his chair and went over to stare out of the window, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his tatty jeans. The deserted square was covered in mud and looked thoroughly depressing. There was the sound of sirens: the Thames was about to burst its banks again. But for those inside the house, that was the least of their worries.
“Gus is right,” added Marie finally. “Oksa was here. I felt it too.”
Andrew, the minister, rubbed his face, looking more sad than confused.
“You think we’ve gone mad, don’t you?” asked Marie bitterly. “But I swear it wasn’t a figment of our imagination. I don’t know how Oksa did it, but she was here! I recognized her scent, I felt her presence, her hair against my cheek. She… she hugged me.”
She hung her head and slumped down, weary and overwhelmed. Since the Spurned had returned to London, her condition had steadily deteriorated and the poison secreted by the soap made by Orthon McGraw continued to ravage her body. Despite the conviction in her words, she was more unsure than she’d ever admit. Was she losing her marbles? Perhaps she wanted Oksa to be there so badly that she’d believed she could sense her as surely as if she were right beside her. But no, she knew deep down that her mind wasn’t playing tricks and that she wasn’t hallucinating. Anyway, Gus had felt the same thing—but how could she get the others to accept the inconceivable?
“Maybe Oksa managed to Dreamfly,” suggested Virginia in a well-meaning attempt to help her friend. “If so, that would mean she’s become a Gracious and she’s okay.”
“From what I know, only the mind travels during Dreamflights,” objected Andrew. “They don’t allow for any physical manifestation.”
The solemn silence grew and their expressions became graver. What if that apparition meant that Oksa and the Runaways were in danger in Edefia? What if it was some kind of… final farewell? Marie closed her eyes and moaned. Everything was spiralling out of control.
“We have to go upstairs!” Gus said suddenly, turning to face the Spurned. “The water’s rising again.”
His sharp words roused them from their gloomy thoughts. This was the fifth flood warning since their return to London. The last one had been worse than the one before, but the water had only reached the ground floor owing to the raised structure of the house. In the days afterwards, it had taken all the courage the Spurned could muster to restore a semblance of normality to the rooms damaged by the high water levels. Despite the shortage of running water, electricity and almost all essential survival aids, their hard work had paid off: the basement was uninhabitable, but the kitchen and living room were back in use. This time, however, the flooding appeared to be more serious and looked as if it might destroy everything. In the din of the army helicopters criss-crossing the sky while blaring words of warning through powerful megaphones and the continual wailing of the sirens, Gus and Andrew took hold of Marie’s wheelchair and went up to the third floor.
Dragomira’s old apartment had been spared by the storms and floods, but not by the looters, who’d gleefully carried off everything that had made these cosy, unconventional rooms so appealing. The thieves had stripped the apartment of its countless paintings, console tables, curtains and rugs, leaving only the crimson sofas and the double-bass case, which were too bulky to be easily removed. The shelving unit which had housed hundreds of phials—some containing extremely rare ingredients—had been reduced to a pile of wood and glass.
Panting, Gus and Andrew carefully set down the wheelchair and went over to the windows. The square was gradually disappearing under brown water filled with an indescribable jumble of debris and refuse.
“If the worst comes to the worst, we still have Dragomira’s private workroom,” said Gus.
Fortunately, the looters hadn’t managed to get into the room hidden under the eaves. After all, no one would have thought there was a secret passage behind the double-bass case. As a result, the workroom had remained undamaged, apart from a few broken windows and some tiles dislodged by the raging winds. The main reason the house was still standing, though, was its proximity to the other buildings in the terrace. Built adjacent to each other, they’d provided their neighbours with shelter, so damage was minimal. “A good principle to follow if we’re going to withstand the hard blows life deals us,” Marie had remarked gravely. Andrew, who was good with his hands, had managed to repair the holes, so the Spurned were able to save the invaluable stocks of food collected by Dragomira for her creatures—a treasure trove consisting mainly of cereals and preserves which enabled the Spurned to be self-sufficient and live in relative safety. Things weren’t that simple, though. Despite the widespread presence of amphibious police vehicles in the city, there was the continual threat of looting. Urban guerrilla warfare raged in the streets and danger lurked everywhere, transforming the country into what was essentially a military state. Initial feelings of solidarity had begun to give way to selfish individualism, despite some qualms on the part of the majority. Then the power cuts had started, the shelves of the grocery shops had gradually emptied, and people had panicked, thinking that their kindness might backfire on them. The core principles of life were forgotten and the law of the fittest had taken hold. It was proving to be an unstoppable process with few exceptions. Severe shortages caused even the strongest wills to waver, and a small canister of gas or a jar of jam became an object of abject greed.
The Spurned had discovered this to their cost when they’d helped the Pollocks’ neighbours, the Simmonses. Glad to share what they had, they’d decided to give a few packets of pasta and rice to this charming retired couple, who seemed to have stepped straight out of handbook on good breeding and etiquette. Two days later, the Simmonses had turned up again at the front door, much more demanding and much less friendly. Andrew had tactfully made the point that it was necessary to use foodstuffs sparingly: in two days the Simmonses had eaten enough to feed all seven people in their group for a week. Mr Simmons had lost his temper and had tried to force his way in, waving a collector’s pistol which, in other circumstances, would have been a completely disproportionate, even ridiculous reaction. Gus had seen red and, without further ado, had put his karate classes to good use, ejecting Mr Simmons with a judo throw which had surprised their rude neighbour as much as the Spurned. Since that unfortunate incident, the Spurned had remained on their guard, disillusioned and very wary.
The sirens were still wailing, assailing their ears and straining their nerves to breaking point.
“I won’t be able to stand this for long,” whined Kukka Knut, sliding down the wall to a sitting position. “I’ve had it up to here.”
Pulling her ecru sweater over her knees, she buried her head in her lap. Sympathetically, Gus left the window from where he was watching the Thames flow over the pavements and roads and went over to sit next to Kukka. In these troubled times, the authorities were dealing with the most urgent situations first and the weather agencies had been instructed not to make any more pointless forecasts. Things didn’t look good: since their return to London, the Spurned hadn’t seen a single day without rain. There hadn’t been a ray of sunshine or a scrap of blue sky. Just cold grey water, which got in everywhere and left its dirty calling card on everything it touched. And in Bigtoe Square, morale, like the weather, was at an all-time low.
“We’re cold, we’re using candles to see, we can’t wash properly and soon we’ll have nothing left to eat either!” added Kukka, her head in her hands.
A greasy strand of blond hair escaped from her untidy bun. Gus reached out to tuck it back into place then, at the last minute, thought better of it.
“It won’t last for ever,” he murmured. “It can’t last for ever.”
Kukka looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“I didn’t expect such unbridled optimism from you!”
Gus immediately stood up.
“It’s always a pleasure to try and help a friend,” he grumbled, gazing at her forlornly.
“If you really want to help, then help me find my parents!” snapped Kukka.
Disheartened, Gus turned on his heels.
“Don’t be such a spoilt brat,” he growled, heading over to Marie.
Kukka blushed.
“Don’t forget that Gus’s parents are also in Edefia,” Virginia remarked reproachfully to Kukka. “We all have loved ones there, we’re all unhappy, you’re not the only one, Kukka, far from it! Please don’t make things worse by taking your bad mood out on us!”
Kukka stifled a swear word in Finnish—her mother tongue—and sat sullenly in her corner. Gazing into space, Marie took Gus’s hand. The hope kindled by Oksa’s fleeting presence had now been replaced by deep despair. The water lapping at the top step outside the house was about to flood into the hall. The current situation left a lot to be desired and the future wasn’t looking bright for the Spurned.
5
FINAL FORMALITIES
THE VISIT BY OKSA’S IDENTEGO TO BIGTOE SQUARE HAD left her with very mixed feelings. She hadn’t had time to learn how to control this singular new power, which allowed her unconscious mind to act for her in such a physical yet intangible way. Even though she understood how her Identego worked and how it could be used, she hadn’t yet mastered it. But perhaps it wasn’t a case of telling it what to do… there was no way of knowing. Apart from her and the first Gracious of Edefia, no one had ever had this power before. The only thing Oksa knew for sure was that it had again been triggered by panic—a blinding panic that had swept over her when she’d seen the Thames burst its banks. It had only taken a few seconds for her Identego to be hugging her mother. A rift in time had opened up and had plunged them both into some kind of disembodied reality in which they’d shared feelings of amazement, excitement and confusion. Gus had then appeared. She’d rushed over to hug him and her affection for him had overwhelmed her. Instinctively, she’d lightly kissed his lips, leaving Gus motionless with surprise. She’d have liked the visit to last for hours and yet, despite being brief, those embraces had done her the world of good. She’d felt everything as intensely as if her body had actually experienced it, the softness of her mother’s skin, the lemony fragrance of Gus’s hair, even the smell of damp pervading the house.
Then it had been time to return. The silence in the Cloak Chamber had been broken by a long wail of despair. This new power was magical, but far from perfect. It would take time to come to terms with the frustration caused by her Identego’s inability to interact with the physical world. A long time.
The task of massaging the Heart of the Two Worlds took many long, hard days, which left Oksa pale and trembling with exhaustion. Dragomira and the Ageless Ones did everything they could to support her colossal effort. Oksa had never had to give so much of herself. Despite being a Gracious, she was still human—the terrible cramps she suffered in her arms and hands were a painful reminder of that. Her work was made all the harder by the disasters befalling the sphere, which didn’t leave her unscathed. As the days went by, Oksa was increasingly hard hit by the storms and volcanoes. Her body was wracked with pain, which she endured in dazed silence as red welts caused by splashes of lava streaked her skin and her lips became chapped by the wind and arid deserts. From time to time she allowed Dragomira to take her aside for a brief respite. She’d curl up with her Cloak wrapped around her and fall asleep immediately, her prostrate body floating weightlessly in the middle of the Chamber. Her only food was a strange drink prepared by her gran. Oksa was aware that her stomach was empty, but it didn’t bother her because the drink was so refreshing.
“You haven’t lost your touch, Baba!” she exclaimed cheerfully, sucking in bubbles of the potion floating around her.
Then she would get back to work, massaging the Heart of the Two Worlds with renewed energy and determination.
Ten days and ten nights after Oksa had entered the Cloak Chamber, the Heart at last began beating more steadily and more strongly. Completely drained, Oksa carefully stepped back and gazed at the sphere and the planets spinning in perfect synchronization.
“Well, that’s a good job done,” she said softly, her hands on her hips.
The Ageless Ones and Dragomira clustered around her, brighter than ever.
“You’ve accomplished your mission, Young Gracious,” said the tallest Fairy. “The Heart of the Two Worlds is still weak, but it’s out of danger!”
“Does that mean… there won’t be any more disasters?” asked Oksa.
The light around the tall Fairy dimmed.
“It means that the death of our two worlds has been avoided,” she replied.
“The Earth will still be hit by disasters,” continued Dragomira. “That’s inevitable. But what you’ve just done, Dushka, is nothing short of a miracle. A true miracle!”
Suddenly there was a deafening rumble. The Chamber walls shook and there was a shower of dust from the ceiling. Oksa gave a wail of despair.
“It didn’t work! You’re wrong, all of you, I failed!”
The Ageless Ones immediately enveloped her.
“Rest easy, Young Gracious: you did succeed! What you’re hearing is the sound of your Sovereign Hourglass moving into position. The Hourglass determines how long you’ll be a Gracious.”
Oksa struggled to understand what they meant.
“The Hourglass has just turned over, allowing the first grains of your reign to trickle through,” continued an Ageless Fairy.
“So… will I reign for a long time?” she couldn’t help asking.
The Ageless Ones began laughing among themselves, and their merriment was so contagious that she found herself grinning too.
“Okay, I understand!” she continued. “It’s no big deal, I agree. But I have to admit I’d like to know all the same.”
“Like the universe and all its components, the length of a reign is a living entity,” explained the tallest Fairy. “It depends on the power of the ruling Gracious and the harmony she generates. It isn’t something that is predetermined or controllable. It will only come to an end if harmony has been disrupted or when it’s time to hand over to a New Gracious.”
Oksa considered this information for a moment.
“Or when the Pledge has been broken, as with Malorane,” she said eventually. “If the Gracious breaks the laws governing her reign, then everything grinds to a halt.”
The Fairies seemed to nod.
“A reign that is a living entity,” continued Oksa. “You certainly do things differently here! So where is this Hourglass? I’d like to see it.”
“It’s in there,” replied the tall Ageless One, leading Oksa towards a door concealed in the blocks of crystal forming the walls.
The room adjoining the Chamber was completely bare. It was dimly lit, which made it seem stuffy, but peaceful, an impression heightened by its circular shape, reminiscent of a big top in a circus. Oksa floated inside, looking for the legendary Hourglass.
“I can’t see it,” she said.
The empty room had no corners and no nooks or crannies to search, just four smooth columns in the middle. The complete absence of anything piqued Oksa’s curiosity further. She was hovering a few inches above the ground, scrutinizing the empty space, when the Ageless Ones stopped her.
“Look, Young Gracious! The Hourglass is there!”
The tall Fairy positioned herself just in front of Oksa, illuminating a small section of the tiled floor on which the Sovereign Hourglass was standing.
“But it’s tiny!” exclaimed Oksa.
Twisting her body to keep her balance, she screwed up her eyes to study the ground, then finally took out her Granok-Shooter.
“Ah, much better!” she said, summoning a Reticulata.
The jellyfish-magnifying glass showed every detail of the microscopic object. At first glance, the Hourglass looked very ordinary in design with its dark wood frame and delicate metal screws. However, what the Fairy had called the “grains of the reign” were an incredible sight, dark and luminescent at the same time. Two grains had already trickled through—and Oksa was surprised to realize she felt put out. The Hourglass had only just turned over!
“It’s flowing so fast,” she grumbled, putting away her Granok-Shooter.
“It’s time to complete your enthronement, Young Gracious,” said the tall Fairy. “Then your reign can begin.”
These words set Oksa’s pulse racing: the future seemed even more complicated than everything she’d just achieved. In here, she was safe at least…
“Come!” said the Fairy, escorting her back into the Chamber. Dragomira had almost entirely regained her physical appearance; only the contours of her body looked hazy. She held out her hands to Oksa, who rushed over to her, upset by her Baba’s sad smile. They hugged in an emotional silence, making the most of these brief minutes, before Dragomira whispered something in her ear. Oksa drew back slightly, kicking her feet gently, her eyes wide.
“That is the new Gracious Pledge,” announced the tall Fairy. “Have you understood exactly what it means, Young Gracious?”
“Yes…”
“And do you understand the constraints it involves, as well as the consequences?”
“Yes…” replied Oksa, looking deathly pale.
“We’d like you to repeat what Dragomira just said to you, please. This will be the first and last time that the Pledge is said aloud.”
Oksa obeyed. Although she’d only heard it once, the Pledge seemed to be engraved for ever on her memory. Suddenly she felt a kind of twitching in the region of her stomach. The feeling intensified until there was no doubt that something was happening under her tee-shirt! Panic-stricken by the movements which were now stretching the garment out of shape, she moaned.
“What now?”
Terrifying images raced through her mind, as she pictured all kinds of awful things, from an alien inhabiting her body to a grotesque mutation. Perhaps certain physical changes were part of becoming a Gracious! They could have warned her. Then she realized that the thing was trying to escape from under her tee-shirt. Carefully and apprehensively, she gripped the hem and lifted up the fabric, her heart pounding fit to burst. What she saw was a jaw-dropping phenomenon: the eight-pointed star, which had been encircling the skin around her belly button, was now a tangible object. Free of any restraints, the star floated away from Oksa’s body and hovered in front of her for a few seconds before shooting with unreal speed towards the miniature solar system still rotating in the main Chamber.
“It’s joined the other stars! That’s insane!” gasped Oksa, awed and rather relieved. “Part of me is part of the universe now.”
The Ageless Ones began shining as brightly as these myriad stars.
“Now you really are the New Gracious of Edefia!” they rejoiced.
Oksa frowned and ran her hand through her hair.
“The New Gracious of Edefia,” she repeated, her eyes clouding over. “So… what happens now?”
“You’ll go back to your father and our friends,” replied Dragomira, “and help them to defeat Ocious and his cronies. There are hard times ahead—your enemies will hound you relentlessly, but you’re strong and the people are on your side. Never forget that.”
“What about you, Baba?” asked Oksa in a choked voice.
Dragomira looked away.
“Me? I’ll stay here. I have a mission to accomplish, remember.”
“You’re the Infinite Entity, you’re going to preserve the equilibrium of the two worlds,” sobbed Oksa. “And I’ll never see you again.”
“Who knows what the future holds?” said Dragomira. “Who knows?”
As if symbolizing this new phase in Oksa’s life, the Cloak gently slipped from her shoulders and fell to the ground. She suddenly felt exhausted.
“You must leave the Chamber, Young Gracious,” the tall Fairy reminded Oksa, pushing her towards the far end of the room.
“Hey! This isn’t the way!” she objected, realizing she was being taken towards the opposite side of the Chamber to the one she’d entered through ten days earlier.
“It’s too dangerous to exit via the seventh basement. Ocious and his supporters are patiently waiting there for you.”
Oksa shivered. The enemies of the Runaways were still after her.
“You’ll be safe through here,” said the Fairy.
A new opening appeared in the curved wall, leading into a dark, seemingly endless corridor.
“A secret passage? Brilliant!” exclaimed Oksa. “Where does it go?”
“It’ll take you far away from here, to a distant place where no one will be able to harm you,” replied the Fairy. “Don’t worry though, you won’t be alone for long, someone you trust is waiting for you.”
“Who?” asked Oksa.
“You have nothing to fear.”
Their answers were becoming increasingly terse and Oksa realized that the Ageless Fairies weren’t going to say anything more. Before her, the corridor stretched away into darkness. She turned round. Dragomira’s outline had already faded.
“Goodbye, Baba.”
“Goodbye, Dushka,” murmured the voice she loved so much. Oksa wiped her face with the back of her hand, took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor that would take her to meet her destiny.
6
EN ROUTE FOR THE BORDERS OF EDEFIA
THE WALK ALONG THE CORRIDOR WAS LONG AND HARD. Oksa wasn’t enjoying her return to gravity one little bit—after days of weightlessness, she felt as though she weighed a ton. The ground was uneven and covered with rubble, which made her progress slow and unsteady, there was very little light and the air was clogged with dust. Oksa was also battling a heavy weariness that had descended on her like setting concrete and was making every move difficult—even blinking took effort. She twisted her ankle for the umpteenth time and cursed. As if echoing her bad mood, her stomach gave a terrible growl: the Young Gracious was starving. After what felt like miles, the ceiling of the corridor became much lower, forcing her to bend down.
“That’s all I need,” she grumbled. “If this continues, I’ll have to crawl out of here.”
Her thoughts turned to Ocious, the fierce old man who’d ruled Edefia for decades, as well as his supporters and his two rival sons, Andreas, who was his favourite, and Orthon, the black sheep. If any of them managed to get their hands on her, it would spell the end of everything. All those sacrifices, all those separations and all that suffering would have been for nothing.
“You won’t catch me!” she declared. “Ever!”
She pressed on as best she could, bent double, her back aching and her feet on fire. Her Curbita-Flatulo was undulating constantly around her wrist, attempting to ease her mood by applying pressure in different places, but it looked in a bad way too. Its tongue was hanging out of the side of its mouth and its tiny eyes were almost closed. As if to highlight its sorry state, some explosive noises from its nether regions reached Oksa’s ears and she paused for a second, before reacting.
“Oh, Curbita, I’m such an ungrateful so-and-so!” she exclaimed, immediately rummaging in the little bag she wore across her shoulder. “You’ve been such a help all this time and I completely forgot to feed you. I’m so sorry! Hang on, I’ll put that right immediately.”
She hastily opened the Caskinette containing her Capacitors and food for the Curbita-Flatulo. “One granule a day, no more and certainly no less,” Abakum had instructed. The small bear-bracelet devoured the granule which Oksa held out on her fingertip and its eyes opened slightly, misty with gratitude. Oksa stroked its downy head and continued on her way, impatient to reach the end of this interminable escape route.
She was starting to think she’d die a premature death in this corridor when she spotted a small patch of light in the distance. It grew bigger and bigger as she approached until she could clearly see it was the way out. About time! Despite her exhaustion, which made every step a test of strength, Oksa broke into a joyful run. The corridor filled with daylight and a trickle of fresh air reached her lungs. How good it felt to breathe properly! She sprinted the last few yards to the exit, abandoning all caution, then stopped dead, holding her breath, as a figure crossed her field of vision.
“Is that you, my Lunatrix?” she asked cautiously. The squat figure appeared again in front of the exit to the secret passage.
“The domestic staff of my Young Gracious provides the contribution of an affirmative answer,” answered the little creature nasally.
“How glad I am to see you!” exclaimed Oksa happily, rushing out of the secret passage to hug him tightly.
The Lunatrix’s chubby face turned the colour of ripe aubergine. He looked her up and down with a troubled expression, but Oksa was too relieved to see him to pay much attention to his confusion.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes shining. “Who told you I’d be coming out on this side? And how are the Runaways? Dad? Abakum? And Zoe? Are they okay?”
The Lunatrix stepped back, looking scared. His long arms twitched at the sides of his plump body.
“The volume of questionings achieves an abundance that creates a disturbance in the mind of your domestic staff, because your domestic staff made the gift of a promise which takes priority over all speaking. The enquiring of my Young Gracious will benefit from the provision of an answer after a secondary delay, when the communication stuffed with importance has been transmitted.”
Oksa’s face darkened.
“I understand. What have you been told to tell me?”
“Danger experiences strong survival and my Young Gracious must be directed towards a shelter of great safety to achieve the evasion of the hated, malevolent Felons.”
Oksa couldn’t help looking around. A barren, dusty, undulating landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, like a grey desert. The capital of Edefia, Thousandeye City, as well as any sign of life, seemed a million miles away.
“Have you any idea where I should go?”
“A single place affords the assurance of the complete protection of my Young Gracious: the borders of Edefia, where the Isle of the Fairies has its location.”
“Really!” exclaimed Oksa enthusiastically. “I’m going to the Isle of the Fairies, am I?”
The Lunatrix nodded vigorously.
“A former Gracious will proceed to the accompaniment and the guidance of my Young Gracious and her domestic staff.”
“Baba?” asked Oksa hopefully.
“The Much-Loved-Old-Gracious now possesses a mission in the intestines of the Earth in the Cloak Chamber.”
Despite the sadness occasioned by this reminder, Oksa held back a smile.
“You mean… ‘in the bowels of the Earth’, don’t you?” she pointed out politely.
“Your correction encounters exactitude,” admitted the Lunatrix, gazing at her with boundless admiration in his large blue eyes.
“Hello, Oksa,” said a woman’s voice, which seemed to come out of nowhere.
Alarmed, Oksa immediately adopted an attacking position, right leg out in front, her arm extended. Although ethereal, the figure who appeared before her was much more clearly visible than Dragomira had been. This woman was beautiful and slender, with remarkably long hair and a melancholy face. She bore a striking resemblance to Dragomira and Oksa recognized her immediately.
“You’re Malorane!” she exclaimed, resuming her normal stance.
The woman approached confidently and calmly.
“Yes, I’m Malorane, your great-gran. Despite the unusual circumstances, I’m honoured to meet you.”
“My Antecedent Gracious,” greeted the Lunatrix.
“My Lunatrix,” murmured Malorane, stroking the head of the creature who’d once served her.
Oksa gazed at her, lost for words. How could she have imagined that she might one day come face to face with the woman responsible for everything? The consequences of her secret relationship with Ocious had led to the clandestine birth of the twins Orthon and Reminiscens, the Beloved Detachment inflicted on the latter, the Great Chaos… This woman had been the cause of so many tragedies and, what was worse, as Oksa knew, none of it had been intentional. Malorane had been exploited and her trusting, naive nature had been deceived. How could she be blamed for that? Especially as she’d been the first person affected by her own mistakes, losing her loved ones, her Gracious powers and ultimately her life. Oksa stared at the former Gracious in awe, dying to ask hundreds of questions. However, this was hardly the time—other things were more important.
“We need to hurry!” whispered Malorane, her eyes sweeping the plain. “Ocious and his cronies will soon realize that things aren’t going as planned. We need to get you to safety, and fast!”
For a second, Malorane’s perfect face revealed all the frightened bitterness in her heart, which pained Oksa. Malorane gazed at her in concern.
“Can you Vertifly?”
“Of course I can!”
“I mean… aren’t you too tired to Vertifly?” pressed Malorane.
“I’ll be fine,” replied Oksa, thinking she must look awful if her great-gran was that worried.
“Let’s go then!”
