“You said the answer was the keyword, didn’t you?” he whispered in Marie’s ear. “The word?”
She nodded dubiously. Then her face lit up: she’d understood too!
“May I try?” she asked, nudging Orthon out of the way with her wheelchair. “You and your henchmen go to the other end of the room.”
Orthon obeyed reluctantly. Marie hadn’t given him much choice. With Gus’s help, she started to search through the jewellery, examining each piece with minute care, until Gus held up a fob watch, spelling the Felons’ defeat.
“That watch belonged to my father,” Mercedica’s daughter told the two clans. “He gave it to my mother when I was born. Look at the engraving on the case.”
The Runaways studied the watch: it was a magnificent, finely worked antique watch. On the clasp, a short text from Catarina’s father picked out in tiny slivers of precious stone paid tribute to Mercedica, his beloved wife:
For the woman who forever holds
The key to all my secrets.
S.
Dragomira gently pressed the word “key” and the cover opened, revealing the hands which were counting seconds with an almost inaudible tick. With her fingertip she turned them to the number twelve and there was a faint click. The face split in two, revealing a secret compartment containing the legendary medallion of the Graciouses, shining like a star.
“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Oksa. “Gus, you’re a genius!”
Before he could reply, Orthon and his allies took advantage of this brief hesitation to move closer to the Runaways.
“WATCH OUT!” shouted Tugdual.
In a fraction of a second, Orthon had snatched the medallion from Dragomira. No one had time to react. The watch fell to the ground where it was smashed to pieces under the Master of the Felons’ heel.
“My profound thanks, dear friends!” he exclaimed triumphantly.
With a defiant glare for Dragomira and the Runaways, he slipped the medallion around his neck.
“So, my dear sister, where were we before we were distracted by that tiny setback?”
Dragomira turned round and dejectedly walked out of the room.
“I may have lost this battle, Orthon,” she exclaimed from the staircase of the lofty hall. “But I haven’t lost the war!”
32
A ROGUE WAVE
THE SEA DOG SAILED SOUTH WITH A FAIR WIND, FOLLOWED by the Felons’ ship, the Eagle of Darkness. Just as Dragomira had done on the doorstep of the house in Bigtoe Square and at Leomido’s farm, Orthon had locked the door of his grey stone house and, without a backward glance for Mercedica’s grave, he’d walked down to the rocky beach where the Eagle of Darkness was moored, followed in silence by his allies. Night was now falling around the two ships, shrouding the jagged Scottish coastline in a sinister fog. The Island of the Felons had vanished from the horizon, marking the start of a new chapter for the Runaways and the Felons.
“I don’t know what’s happening in Ireland, but it must be serious,” suddenly remarked Pavel, staring up at the sky.
Several squads of military planes had just roared across the sky, heading west.
“Earthquake near Dublin,” informed Tugdual, who was permanently online via his mobile. “Registering eight on the Richter scale.”
“Good Lord,” whispered Dragomira sadly. “Poor Ireland… poor Earth.”
“HOLD TIGHT!” suddenly shouted Pavel, steering towards land.
“What’s wrong?” exclaimed Oksa.
With a trembling finger, Gus pointed to the stern of the ship. In the glow of the setting sun and the Sea Dog’s lights, the Felons’ ship was following hard on their heels. However, Pavel was alerting them to a much more implacable enemy than their adversaries: a massive wave was rearing up on the horizon. Despite their sturdy engines, the two boats were being sucked back by the current. The roar of straining engines rose from the holds.
“It’s the earthquake,” observed Gus. “It must have caused a tidal wave!”
Handing over the ship’s controls to Abakum, Pavel rushed out of the wheelhouse and, unleashing his Ink Dragon, took off from the deck. Naftali and Pierre joined him immediately. He glanced anxiously at the Eagle of Darkness, which held one of the keys for entering Edefia. If the medallion was lost, they were doomed. A long flame escaped the dragon’s throat together with a roar of fear and anger.
“Look!” shouted Pierre.
The Felons had come up with the same idea as the Runaways: about ten experienced Vertifliers surrounded the black-hulled ship, filling Pavel’s heart with fresh hope. The giant wave, like a wall of water, was only a few hundred yards away. They could hear its roar. It felt like the end of the world was coming as the sky grew visibly darker.
“We have to escape!” yelled Oksa in a panic.
She was about to join her father, but Dragomira held her back.
“Baba!” cried Oksa rebelliously. “I’m a Gracious, I can help!”
“Oksa! Do as your gran tells you!” ordered Marie, in a voice which brooked no refusal.
Oksa gnawed her lip until she could taste blood. The two boats were creaking as though about to break apart at any moment under the terrible strain. Abakum was desperately working the controls, hoping against hope that he could overcome the destructive might of nature. He watched the wall of water drawing closer and closer, then looked up at the sky. Oksa and the Runaways, gathered in the wheelhouse, followed his gaze. A familiar golden light suddenly enveloped the Runaways’ ship. The hull made a terrifying cracking noise causing those on board to fear the worst, then the Sea Dog rose into the air, lifted far above the rough surface of the sea by Pavel and his friends—the Ageless Ones were performing an emergency rescue. Behind them, fairies and a few Felons were working together to pull the Eagle of Darkness from the path of the wave. A few seconds later, the Runaways and the Felons watched the monstrous wave pass below the hull of their ships, which were floating thirty or forty feet above the dark water. The seething waters came crashing down and continued their relentless course towards the coastline. They could hear the wail of warning sirens in the coastal villages, as more squads of planes suddenly appeared in the sky. Which was when Pavel’s fears of a few days ago were realized: four pilots, more observant than the other members of their crew, spotted the two boats suspended in mid-air, bathed in golden light. Not to mention that one of them seemed to be held in the talons of a dragon! The four planes flew closer, creating a din that was just as frightening as that of the giant wave.
“We’ve had it this time,” groaned Oksa, seeing the huge metal craft heading straight for them. “They’ll think we’re extraterrestrials, who’ve caused all these disasters. They’ll kill us, I know they will!”
They looked at each other miserably. “Goodbye, world,” thought Oksa. “I don’t see how we can possibly get out of this mess this time.” Suddenly the baby Lunatrix stood up, his complexion so colourless that it was almost transparent, and emitted a piercing whistling noise, which produced a strange phenomenon: the seconds stretched out endlessly, like elastic. The Runaways’ movements became slower, as if bogged down in thick glue. The Outsiders were affected much more severely: their movements and their thoughts were paralysed. Oksa looked at Gus in amazement. He was motionless, his eyes fixed on her. Marie and the few other Outsiders showed the same horrified rigidity, as did the pilots of the four attacking planes, which had been stopped in their tracks.
“Haaave youuuu … stoppppppped timmmmmme?!?” faltered Oksa, turning to the baby Lunatrix, who was concentrating too hard to reply.
“Our friend is a toddler, he can’t yet control his anxiety,” explained Abakum, articulating with superhuman effort. “And, fortunately for us, his lack of expertise has caused this distortion of time.”
“I feel weeeeaaaak…” said the Incompetent.
“Haaaaaaaaa!” came the languid voice of the Getorix.
The words were elongated, distorted by the absence of time and, despite the serious
ness of the situation, Oksa couldn’t help smiling.
“It’s compleeeeetely unbelieeeeevable…” she whispered in slow motion, sounding groggy.
Making the most of this phenomenon, the Runaways and Felons quickly set the two boats back down on the surface of the water, with the help of the Ageless Ones. The golden halo of light vanished—the fairies had done what they’d come to do—and the Vertifliers from both clans gladly rejoined their friends. They were safe and sound, thanks to the miracle that had just taken place. When everything was back to normal, the baby Lunatrix finally relaxed. His face resumed its childlike pinkish hue as the seconds gradually regained their usual pace and they all resumed control of their bodies and minds. The four planes circled the two boats, then the pilots headed back the way they’d come, uncertain about what they thought they’d seen.
“That was close,” gasped Oksa. “Thank you, little Lunatrix!” she added, scooping him up affectionately in her arms.
The small creature gurgled and laid his head on Oksa’s shoulder, before toddling back to Gus, whom he followed around like a shadow.
“The domestic staff of the Master-Impictured-Forever and his descendants encounter euphoria for making a contribution of help,” said the Lunatrix.
“An invaluable contribution,” added the Fairyman with a grateful look. “You were incredible, young Lunatrix!”
All the Runaways applauded gratefully.
Pavel hugged his daughter, before saying solemnly:
“We escaped by the skin of our teeth this time.”
“The Outside is teetering on a knife-edge,” murmured Dragomira.
“All the more reason not to waste any more time,” nodded Abakum. “Let’s get a move on! We have a plane to catch, my friends.”
33
PERCEPTIONS
OKSA WAS STRETCHED OUT ON THE HAMMOCK HUNG from the walls of the ship’s wheelhouse, gazing vacantly into space. Gus was lying on some wooden chests nearby, his arms behind his head. He kept his eyes on Oksa, as did Tugdual, who was straddling a chair on casters and swivelling round every so often.
“Can’t you stop spinning on that chair?” snapped Gus.
“Why?” said Tugdual.
“It’s getting on my nerves.”
“If you’re nerves are that fragile, I doubt you’ll be able to cope with what’s coming.”
“I might surprise you,” said Gus.
“I can’t wait!” replied Tugdual with a smirk.
“Don’t you two get bored winding each other up all the time?” broke in Oksa.
“It’s your friend who started it!” objected Tugdual.
“It’s your boyfriend who’s trying to pick a fight, not me!” retorted Gus.
Oksa took a deep breath.
“At the moment, there’s no such thing as friend or boyfriend! Just two annoying brats!”
Tugdual began laughing, as Gus tetchily threatened to get him back. He rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the beginnings of a deep, throbbing migraine. Since his so-called metamorphosis, the terrible agony caused by the Chiropteran’s bite had gone, which was a huge relief, but he knew the threat was still there. The sickness had taken hold deep within him and was lurking like a predator waiting to attack. Did Oksa feel the same? He hadn’t had the time—or courage—to ask. But they were both in the same boat… He was finding that he could look at her with a bold intensity that he’d never have thought possible. She was very pretty, frowning with concentration over the notes the three of them had taken when Dragomira had given them the task of organizing the trip. He’d give anything for her to look at him the way she looked at Tugdual.
Tugdual, on the other hand, seemed cocksure and unmoved by the agitation around him. Deep down, though, he was plagued by worry. Helena, his mother, appeared to be avoiding him and, what was worse, it was perfectly understandable. It was his fault his family had been torn apart. His father had fled. He might be dead, drowned by the lethal waves wreaking havoc all over the world. The latest information he’d seen on the Internet had described some particularly destructive tsunamis in the North Sea, which had left few oil rigs standing. He hadn’t said anything, but his anxiety was slowly being replaced by grief. And bitter remorse. His father was an Outsider so there was very little possibility that he could have survived the disasters. If he’d stayed with his family and friends, he might have stood a chance…
Kukka was partly to blame for Tugdual’s unhappiness. He did his best to avoid his spiteful cousin, but she was always hanging around Gus, who was never far from Oksa so, as a result, they formed a strange foursome. They were joined by a silent, morose Zoe, who wasn’t fond of Tugdual at all—or rather, she was too wary of him to like him. He was aware of that and understood how she felt. He had no illusions about the image he portrayed—deliberately or not—and he wasn’t surprised when people didn’t warm to him. He knew his appearance, demeanour and decisions weren’t everyone’s cup of tea and he much preferred Zoe’s outright wariness to Kukka’s sly remarks. His cousin managed to catch him out too often. It took a great deal of energy to harden himself to her venomous attacks. Every time, he managed not to lose face, but inside he was seething. Bottling up his feelings was souring his life and he hated not acting spontaneously.
Then there was Oksa. More than anyone else, her life was in danger. Did she know that? He’d overheard scraps of conversation between Orthon and Agafon, who feared that the Chiropteran venom transmitted by Gus’s bite might prove fatal for the Young Gracious. With an astounding lack of sensitivity, the two Felons shared their fear that if Oksa died before she could enter the Cloak Chamber, their plans would come to nought. This had put Tugdual in a speechless black rage. He watched Oksa, trying to keep his face expressionless. That was all he could do. His only defence was not letting his feelings show. He saw Oksa glance at Gus, who was watching her solemnly. It was so obvious he was crazy about her… How could anyone be so transparent? Didn’t he realize he was putting himself in a position of weakness? As far as Tugdual was concerned, Gus’s outbursts and lingering looks were pathetic, verging on laughable. Yet, deep down, he’d have loved to act as naturally and instinctively.
“Neither of you are listening to me!” Oksa shouted.
They both jumped, roused from their thoughts.
“We have to rethink everything!” announced Oksa tensely. “The Tumble-Bawler has just told us that we can’t get to Edinburgh airport.”
Immediately, Tugdual began tapping on his phone.
“Do you still have network coverage?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” he said reassuringly.
“See what it’s like at Glasgow,” suggested Gus.
A few seconds later he had his answer.
“Glasgow’s fine,” announced Tugdual. “The flight from Glasgow to Urumqi hasn’t been cancelled.”
“Thank goodness for that!” exclaimed Dragomira, who’d joined them.
“Does that change the rest of our journey?” asked Pavel anxiously.
“No,” replied Oksa, gazing over Tugdual’s shoulder at the screen. “Once we’re in Urumqi, we can catch the train to Qingshui. The journey takes about twelve hours and there’s a daily service. When we reach Qingshui, we can take another train to Saihan Toroi. Then it’s about sixty miles across the Gobi Desert to get to Gashun-nur.”
“Well done, youngsters,” Dragomira congratulated them gravely. “I hope the rest of our journey will be less eventful…”
“It’s hard to plan ahead,” remarked Tugdual. “The whole world seems to be in chaos. People are putting as much distance as they can between them and the coast or volcanoes. There have been a few earth tremors between Urumqi and Gashun-nur, but they haven’t caused a great deal of damage. The railway lines haven’t been affected. We just have to hope nothing terrible happens before we get to Gashun-nur.”
“Not to mention that there may be snow in the Gobi Desert this time of year and that could slow us down,” added Gus. “Let’s hope the trains are running
! Otherwise…”
He glanced anxiously at Oksa.
“Otherwise, we’ll just have to rely on ourselves,” she said, finishing his sentence. “And on magic.”
34
SORROWS OF THE HEART
DESPITE THE RAGING WIND AND TORRENTIAL RAIN THAT had slowed their progress through the night, the Sea Dog and the Eagle of Darkness reached the mouth of the River Clyde at daybreak. The dismayed passengers on the two ships gazed at the coastline from the deck or from their cabins. None of them had been able to sleep after the frightening episode with the giant wave. Exhausted and keyed up, the bleak sight before them only increased their gloom. It looked like the Clyde had overflowed its banks, surprising the inhabitants in their sleep. The withdrawing waters had left behind scenes of total devastation. The houses that were still standing had been badly battered by the violent weather, and what looked vaguely like streets were strewn with furniture, cars and a myriad broken, muddy objects. All around stood formless piles stacked high with memories and ruined lives. They could see people wandering about aimlessly like zombies, shocked at the destructive power of the waves. Others were bustling about frantically for no good reason.
“This is the end of the Outside…” murmured Dragomira, with tears in her eyes.
“We’ll sort it out, Baba, you’ll see!” said Oksa comfortingly. Dragomira was trembling. She raised the collar of her plum mohair jacket, hiding part of her face, and gripped the rail with all her might.
“Are you OK, Baba?”
Dragomira turned away, as if to avoid answering. Oksa looked at her in concern.
The Heart of Two Worlds Page 16
