“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Gus exclaimed, jumping up.
Oksa looked out of the window, as did the rest of the passengers: hundreds of animals were stampeding south, heading in the opposite direction to that of the train. Snow leopards and small horses were leading the way, followed by an unruly pack of galloping camels, running bears, sheep, goats and flocks of frightened birds. A long way behind them, enormous clouds of dust were rising from the ground, obstructing the horizon. The train slowed down appreciably, as if the driver were worried about approaching what was looking increasingly like an impassable barrier. The two Boximinuses began rocking wildly, which didn’t help matters. Their occupants seemed to be in the grip of the same panic as the fleeing desert animals, which didn’t bode well. The passengers were now glued to the windows, staring at the barrier of dust with appalled fascination. Suddenly the train stopped. There were loud shouts as the two drivers suddenly rushed into the carriage occupied by the Runaways and Felons.
“What are they saying?” Oksa couldn’t help asking. “It’s Chinese, I can’t make head or tail of it!”
The members of the group with the best command of the priceless gift of Poluslingua listened hard. The panic-stricken train drivers were shouting and gesticulating wildly.
“The Great Yellow Dragon,” Abakum translated finally, going white. “It’s a giant sandstorm.”
36
THE GREAT YELLOW DRAGON
THE ENORMOUS BILLOWS OF DUST WERE GROWING nearer, roaring like a huge monster. Soon they filled the sky, obscuring the feeble rays of sunshine and plunging the dunes into total darkness.
“It looks very high!” whispered Oksa.
“Tumble,” called Dragomira, dipping her hand into her bag.
“Yes, my Old Gracious?” said the creature, standing to attention.
“What do you know about this sandstorm?”
The Tumble-Bawler pressed itself to the window for a few seconds, then replied:
“It’s incredibly destructive. As you can see, it reaches high into the sky, so the Runaways and Felons won’t be able to lift the train over it the way they lifted the ships over that rogue wave.”
“Is it very wide?”
The Tumble pressed against the window again and concentrated.
“The sand cloud covers a surface area of about seventy-eight miles and is moving at ninety-nine miles per hour.”
“We’re going to die!” cried Oksa, wringing her hands.
“It will take about forty minutes to pass through it,” calculated Gus, thinking hard.
“Forty minutes?” exclaimed Oksa, trembling. “We’ll never hold our breath that long. We’ll suffocate! We’ve got to do something! Would it help if I raised a storm? It wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge…”
Everyone considered this suggestion carefully.
“Given the strength of the wind inside it, I’m afraid the sandstorm might just absorb the additional energy and that would only strengthen it,” said Abakum. “Which would make matters even worse.”
“What about Tornaphyllon Granoks?” suggested Oksa. “If we all fire Tornaphyllons at it, we might be able to push it back!”
“It’s worth a try,” said Pavel, going over to the carriage door.
All the Runaways and Felons with Granok-Shooters gathered on the snow-covered sand. Joining forces for the first time, they focused on the sand wall advancing with a roar. Oksa felt as though her brain was about to explode. She was making a superhuman effort not to give way to panic. Flashes of black light crackled above the Runaways and Felons, who were summoning all their energy.
“Together, on my signal!” said Abakum. Three… two… ONE!”
They all blew into their Granok-Shooters at the same time, saying the magic formula to themselves.
By the power of the Granoks
Think outside the box.
This twisting gale of wind
Will put you in a spin.
A transparent cylinder of wind materialized, which looked very much like a massive soap bubble, and raced at breathtaking speed towards the moving sand wall. The impact when they collided sent a few tons of sand into the air to form a hole—which closed up again a few seconds later.
“Again!” shouted Dragomira.
After two more attempts the Runaways and Felons climbed back into the train, looking undeniably anxious.
“Maybe we should turn round?” suggested Naftali.
“This isn’t a high-speed train. We’d never outdistance it,” said Pavel.
“The baby Lunatrix could slow down time,” suggested Pierre in his turn.
“That would be an excellent solution,” replied Abakum, “if it weren’t for the fact that his power only works on human beings, not the elements.”
“Oksa?” called Gus, his eyes fixed on the dreadful sand wall drawing ever closer. “Do you remember that video clip we saw on the Internet?”
Oksa looked at him, intrigued.
“Which one, Gus?”
“The one about the Australians who found themselves in the path of an enormous sandstorm, which was heading straight for them. Do you remember how they survived?”
“Instead of running away, they sprinted as fast as they could through it.”
“Exactly!”
“But Gus,” broke in Marie, sounding choked. “We wouldn’t survive for forty minutes in that hellhole!”
“It’s only forty minutes if we stay still. If we move too, it wouldn’t take so long to pass through it,” replied Gus.
“But we’ll be trapped like rats by the sand…”
“Not if the Tornaphyllons create a tunnel through it for us!”
They looked at each other in amazement.
“Gus?” said Oksa hoarsely.
“Yes, Oksa?”
“You know you’re a genius, don’t you?”
Gus gave her a half-smile and turned away.
“QUICK!” exclaimed Dragomira. “The storm’s coming!” Abakum rushed over to his chest of Granoks and handed some out to everyone with a Granok-Shooter. Then he hurried towards the locomotive, which had been abandoned by the train’s drivers, who’d been just as terrified by these passengers with strange powers as by the sandstorm. He took over at the controls, while Pavel rushed outside, despite protests from his friends.
“Pavel, PLEASE DON’T GO!” yelled Marie, trying in vain to hold him back.
Watched by his companions and the other stunned passengers, the Ink Dragon reared from Pavel’s back and took flight.
“The battle of the dragons,” remarked Abakum, starting up the train.
Some thirty people were silently clustered around Abakum, taking it in turns to fire as many Granoks as possible through the half-open windows. Pavel’s Ink Dragon was flying above the locomotive to escort the train heading at top speed for the wall.
“We’re mad,” muttered Oksa, shaking like a leaf.
“It will work!” said Tugdual, putting his arms around her from behind.
“GET READY!” announced Abakum, hunched tensely over the instrument panel.
The vast bulwark of sand and the train were speeding towards each other on collision course. The Runaways and Felons fought to control their mounting terror, their breath coming in short gasps. A few more yards to go, a few seconds…
There was almost complete darkness at the heart of the sandstorm. Visibility was reduced to near zero and only the train’s headlamp cast a hazy yellow glow over the locomotive as it valiantly raced ahead. Ignoring the bitter cold caused by the sudden drop in temperature, the members of the two feuding groups worked together to maximize the strength of the Tornaphyllons. Large cylinders of pure energy created a tunnel through which the train accelerated. Pavel and his Ink Dragon did their bit by expelling a mighty breath drawn from deep within to drive back the onslaughts of the sandstorm. Runaways and Felons alike realized how important Pavel’s contribution was and they all feared for his life. If he wasn’t strong enough to resist the storm, he’d b
e swept away… While concentrating on the Tornaphyllons, Oksa couldn’t help picturing that terrible possibility. “Hang in there, Dad, hang in there!” she pleaded silently. The Curbita-Flatulo undulated continually around her wrist and she’d never needed its help more. She felt exhausted and petrified—a dreadful mix of emotions which sapped her energy.
“Thirty more miles exactly,” the Tumble-Bawler suddenly informed them. “If we keep going at this speed, we should be out of the sand cloud in twelve minutes.”
Twelve minutes. Twelve short minutes, which seemed like hours… Would they succeed? There was no way of knowing. They were all aware that the Insiders’ fabulous powers were no match for Mother Nature. Their only hope was that today, on the threshold of Edefia, she’d be kind and offer them a slim chance of survival.
“Keep it up!” said Dragomira, her face drawn with tiredness. “The worst is over.”
Despite her gran’s encouragement, Oksa had a nasty feeling that “the worst” was still to come. The violent storm was intensifying and the strength of the Runaways and the Felons was waning. The train was still travelling at top speed, but it was being hit hard by the eddies of sand. All the doors and windows were closed, except for the ones in the locomotive which were only open a crack, but sand was flooding in through the smallest gaps and now lay three feet deep on the floor of the carriages. This only increased the general atmosphere of panic and despair as the added weight was beginning to slow the train down.
“Abakum? What’s happening?” cried Dragomira in alarm.
The Fairyman had no time to reply: the train suddenly shuddered and seemed to rock on its rails.
“We’re too heavy!” he said, going pale. “We’ll be derailed! Naftali! Pierre! We have to uncouple some of the carriages!”
The two men rushed out, followed by Orthon and Gregor. It was too difficult to walk through the sand, so they lost no time in Vertiflying towards the rear of the train, watched in amazement by the passengers who’d gathered in the front carriages. A few minutes later, half as light again, the train picked up speed. Only to slow down again after a few hundred yards because of the violence of the storm.
“Come on!” encouraged Oksa, surprising herself. “We’ve come so far. We can’t let ourselves be buried in the sand now, can we?”
Up to their waists in sand, they drew on their last reserves of strength. They had to get out of this, come hell or high water. There was a heart-rending howl from the roof. The wings of the Ink Dragon suddenly banged against the little windows of the locomotive. They rose again feebly, then collapsed to cover the front of the train, which was beginning to shake under the force of the storm. The Yellow Dragon was overpowering the Ink Dragon!
“NO!” yelled Oksa. “It can’t end like this!”
It took her just a few seconds to visualize her father, lying lifeless on the cold metal, his face scratched raw by sand. The feeling of outrage provoked by this thought filled her with a seething anger that awoke her Identego with a frantic call for help. As she felt that part of her inner self leave her, she’d never been so aware of her mind and body. Dragomira watched in wonder as the miracle unfolded before her eyes. The Two Graciouses exchanged a guarded look of understanding as Oksa’s Identego slipped out through the slightly open window.
37
RESCUING THE INK DRAGON
ALTHOUGH OKSA DIDN’T SEE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT, she felt it as intensely as if she were experiencing it in person. Her Identego elongated to spread a strong protective shield over Pavel and his dragon, unconscious on the roof of the train. Gradually, Oksa realized that her father’s heart had started beating again beneath the unexpected shelter she’d provided. She could physically feel the blood flowing again through the veins of the man who’d almost sacrificed his life for them. Her cry of triumph was echoed silently a hundred times over by the Identego.
“Look!” exclaimed Abakum.
Was it an optical illusion? A mirage born of her wish to survive? Oksa blinked and a wave of indescribable happiness washed over her. At last! The sand cloud was becoming lighter! They began to see daylight and the wind was gusting less violently.
“We’re safe!”
Cries of joy rang out through the train. Most of the passengers—Runaways, Felons and Outsiders—were crying with relief.
“Where’s Dad?” asked Oksa anxiously.
She couldn’t sense anything any more. Her Identego must have slipped back inside her without her realizing. Abakum stopped the train and extended his arms to open the door of the locomotive. Sand flowed out, forming a high mound. Oksa leapt out onto the gritty ground. She looked up.
“DAD!” she yelled hoarsely. “DAD! Where are you?”
Peace had returned. The clear sky was completely cloudless. All around, the bleak Gobi Desert stretched out for miles and miles. Strangely enough, the only sign of life was the huge sand wall disappearing into the distance, whipping up tons of yellow dust as it continued on its destructive course.
“Dad…” wailed Oksa, falling to her knees.
Dragomira and Abakum also climbed down from the train, looking worried. They scanned the sky and sand dunes, but there was nothing. As a last resort, Oksa Vertiflew into the air.
“He’s here!” she cried, standing on the roof of the train. “Dad!”
Pavel was lying on his face, protected by the bronze hide of the exhausted Ink Dragon. As Oksa approached, the dragon dissolved, becoming a tattoo once more, and Pavel sat up, holding out his arms to his daughter.
“We did it…” he said, coughing and spluttering. Oksa threw herself into his arms.
“Dad! You were amazing!”
On the sand dune, the passengers were congratulating each other and enthusiastically applauding. Pavel looked at the Runaways and Felons, who had spontaneously split into two groups again.
“We were all amazing,” he said with great emotion. “All of us…”
He turned away and his eyes narrowed. Oksa followed his gaze: on the horizon a vertical beam had appeared, glowing a strange colour. A colour the Young Gracious and her father had never seen before…
38
THE LAST EVENING
“I KEEP TELLING YOU I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING! HAVE YOU forgotten that I’m just an ordinary Outsider with ordinary eyes which can only see ordinary things? Your rotten vertical beam of light is invisible to me, OK?”
Scowling, Gus angrily kicked the seat in front.
“Ouch!” yelped Brune.
“Sorry,” apologized Gus. “It wasn’t aimed at you. It’s Oksa’s fault.”
“Oh, come off it,” sighed Oksa.
She looked away in annoyance and concentrated on the road. Two hours earlier, the Runaways and Felons had finally disembarked from the dusty train in Saihan Toroi. The violent onslaught of the Yellow Dragon had left the small town licking its wounds and the inhabitants were struggling to recover from the devastation caused by the fury of the elements, as was the case all over the world. A crowd of hysterical men and women, obsessed with the idea of escaping the ravaged areas, mobbed the train as soon as it pulled into the station. Saihan Toroi was the last stop on the line, and the train was then heading back south. In the north, according to the latest information, the land was being hit by continuous earthquakes. Despite the bad news from every continent, everyone was looking for an escape route—running away in the vain hope of finding safety somewhere else. It was what people had done since time immemorial.
In the general panic, no one paid any attention to the tall stories told by a few passengers about travellers with strange powers, some of whom—they swore on their lives!—could fly or turn into dragons. The Runaways and Felons took advantage of the prevailing chaos to slip away and disappear into the milling, ravaged town. Dragomira and Abakum managed to commandeer two clapped-out old buses and no one needed to be asked twice to climb on board for the journey north to Gashun-nur.
The rickety buses wheezed along the bumpy road, but the travellers were too tired to compla
in. Once the Definitive Landmark had appeared on the horizon, Orthon had hastily taken the wheel of the first bus. He was driving straight ahead on the only road, followed by Naftali, who was driving the other bus.
“Let him think he can gain an advantage over us,” Dragomira had sighed.
Gus had also been in a tearing hurry. Not to take the wheel, but to sit next to Oksa before Tugdual did. Tugdual had initially looked a little disappointed, but had then favoured Gus with a mocking smile. As soon as the two buses had left the town, Oksa had tried to talk to Gus about the peculiar beam that was drawing them like a magnet but Gus, upset and ashamed that he couldn’t share his friend’s fascination, had reacted badly. Oksa tried to think about something else, but her mind kept coming back to the strange ray of light cutting through the sky, and Gus’s words, which she couldn’t shake from her mind. Her doubts were blackening her thoughts like indelible ink. “What happens if all the Outsiders end up stranded at the entrance to Edefia? What happens if they’re not allowed in?” She shook her head in alarm and looked at Gus. They’d soon realized that only the Insiders and their descendants could see the brightly shining beam. No one else could see its peculiar colour, which had put Gus in a foul mood… and had made everyone more anxious. Oksa remembered what Dragomira had said a few months earlier: “You know, of course, that objects can only be seen when the light they reflect reaches our eyes. Well, the light in Edefia draws its source from a singular beam of sunlight. This forms a solar mantle, which is totally invisible from the Outside and operates as an impassable barrier or force field. Even when Outsiders are near to Edefia, a strange phenomenon renders our land invisible and causes them to go in a different direction. The same thing happens from above: Edefia cannot be seen by the most sophisticated satellites, probably for the same reasons. Our findings suggest that these light waves move faster than ordinary light waves. Edefia’s mantle is visible to Insiders: it’s our frontier and our eyes have become genetically adapted to the prodigious speed of light which lends it a colour that none of us has ever seen on the Outside. An unknown colour…” Oksa now understood what Baba Pollock had told her when she’d discovered the secret of her origins, and it didn’t bode well for the Outsiders. What would happen if they couldn’t see the beam and were diverted away from the Portal? Oksa shivered. She looked at Gus.
The Heart of Two Worlds Page 18
