Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

  “Ohhh, great disappointment,” wailed the Lunatrix, promptly helping his companion to get up. “Discretion meets with burning failure!”

  They turned their backs with a groan and decided not to move another muscle. Marie looked at Oksa with a mixture of amusement and resignation, and continued:

  “Tell me, Oksa, the other evening in the kitchen, did I get a complete overview of everything you can do?”

  Oh dear! Oksa looked at Dragomira, then her father, wondering how to reply. Pavel nodded at her encouragingly.

  “You can tell me the truth, you know,” said Marie reassuringly. “No more secrets, okay?”

  “Well, Mum,” said Oksa, mustering all her courage, “I can shift objects and move them from a distance, start a fire, rise above the floor and float through the air…”

  “Really? Float through the air?” asked Marie Pollock, rubbing her forehead in dismay. “I didn’t know that—it’s probably just as well you didn’t give us a demonstration of the rest. I think I might have screamed loud enough to bring all of London running!”

  “Er,” said Oksa hesitantly, “there’s another thing too, but I’m not sure…”

  All four of them stared at her intently.

  “Tell us, Oksa,” entreated her father.

  “I think I can throw punches without using my hands. I do mean ‘I think’, though.”

  “Punches?” asked her mother in alarm. “Without using your hands?”

  “The power of Knock-Bong. But that’s fantastic!” exclaimed Dragomira as Pavel frowned, visibly less convinced than his mother of the advantages of this gift.

  “The problem is that I can’t really control what I feel inside me. I want certain things to happen and they do all by themselves, without any magic words or a wand! I have to watch myself all the time because I get the feeling that this stuff is super-powerful,” explained Oksa.

  “It is, actually,” confirmed Dragomira. “Which is why I’ve given you that Curbita-Flatulo. It’s a very useful present, as you’ll find out. Watch it carefully.”

  Marie moved closer to look at the bracelet with her daughter. About half an inch thick, it was covered in silky-soft reddish-brown fur with blue stripes. In the middle, it had a tiny bear’s head with sparkling brown eyes. When her mother put it around Oksa’s wrist and looked for the clasp, the bracelet began moving as if it were alive.

  “Ooh! What’s going on?” shrieked Oksa.

  The tiny claws at each end had just entwined to encircle her wrist and the bracelet creature undulated slightly to curl into a comfortable position. Once it was settled, it blinked and gave a smile of satisfaction. Marie stifled a cry—which Oksa failed to do.

  “This is totally un-bel-iev-ab-le! I’ve never seen anything like it. But how does it work? And what does it do?”

  “The Curbita-Flatulo is a creature, Dushka,” replied Dragomira. “A small being from Edefia. As you’ll see, it’s harmless. Its only concern is your well-being. The gifts you’ve just discovered can be activated not only by your thoughts but also by anger or frustration—and emotions can be hard to control.”

  “Oh, I know,” admitted Oksa, remembering her discussion with Gus a few days ago. “I’m really bad at controlling myself.”

  “It may sometimes prove impossible. And there’s no point in having power if you can’t control it. From what you tell us, you’ve already failed to keep your gifts in check, haven’t you?”

  “Yes… at school,” replied Oksa, looking ashamed.

  This last piece of information was immediately greeted by a flurry of concerned looks, which didn’t escape her notice. She decided to keep quiet about the McGraw episode and the visit to Bontempi’s office, which remained right at the top of the “Top Secret” list. Best not to make matters worse…

  “There’s a Year 9 student who’s picking on me,” she continued, choosing her words carefully. “As soon as he sees me, he feels compelled to shove me and call me names. The other day, he trapped me in the toilets.”

  “What?” cried her father. “And you didn’t tell us?”

  “No,” replied Oksa miserably. “But you mustn’t worry, I wasn’t hurt! He was the one who…”

  She faltered, while everyone hung on her every word.

  “He was the one who?… What do you mean?” continued her father, encouraging her to go on.

  “Well, I panicked,” admitted Oksa. “To be honest, I was frightened to death. And suddenly that Neanderthal was hurled backwards against the wall! He was bent double as if he’d been punched. I just held out my arms to prevent him from getting near me, but I didn’t touch him. I’m sure I didn’t. But I know it’s coming from me, it’s crazy,” she concluded in a small voice, seeing her parents’ dismayed looks.

  The silence lasted for a moment, broken only by Dragomira’s fingers drumming on the armrest of the chair. Abakum cleared his throat, while Marie sat there without moving a muscle. Oksa was on tenterhooks. She should have kept quiet. And she was certainly glad she hadn’t been stupid enough to tell them about the levitation in the courtyard at St Proximus.

  “Hmmm… you won’t be surprised to know that you don’t get any praise for that,” remarked her father, his forehead creased with worry. “Not from me or from any of us, isn’t that right?” he continued, looking at his wife, Dragomira and Abakum in turn with an expression designed to discourage them from disagreeing with his point of view. “Violence is never the answer.”

  “But Dad, I had to defend myself!” retorted Oksa, her cheeks on fire.

  “There are other ways of defending yourself,” snapped her father, raising his voice. “First of all, it isn’t normal for an older boy to act like that, especially at school. Why didn’t you say anything to us? Do you have so little faith in us?”

  “Oh Dad, don’t make such a song and dance about it,” grumbled Oksa, flushed with shame.

  “I’m not making a song and dance about it,” her father continued sternly, “on the contrary, I think I’m being very reasonable. You should have told your teachers or the Headmaster about this. Anyway, that’s what I’m going to do myself first thing on Monday morning.”

  “No! Please don’t do that.”

  Taken aback by the vehemence of her entreaty, Pavel Pollock paused for a second before asking:

  “Why?”

  “I’m old enough to defend myself,” she grumbled.

  “I understand why you might have behaved as you did because I’m not such a rabid pacifist as your father,” said Marie, glancing rebelliously at her husband. “I think, in this society, everyone should defend themselves with whatever weapons they possess. But the problem is that your weapons aren’t very conventional. You’re taking a big risk using them. And that is why I’m so concerned. Not because of Edefia or because of your remarkable origins—I can accept that. The reason I’m so worried is because your powers are all over the place. What if someone realizes you aren’t like everyone else. What would happen then? I’d rather not think about it, and yet it’s a crucial question. I hate knowing you’re in permanent danger, darling. On the other hand, and here I agree with Pavel, it isn’t normal for an older boy to hassle you and follow you into the toilets or anywhere else. We won’t tell Mr Bontempi on Monday. But if it happens again, I want you to tell us immediately and we’ll do something about it. I hope we can count on you.”

  “Yes,” mumbled Oksa, eyes lowered.

  “You must realize, sweetheart,” added Dragomira, “that what you did was also very foolish when it comes to all of us. It’s vital no one knows. No one must even guess that we’re… how shall I put it… a little different. I hope you understand what we’re all saying to you, despite being so stubborn. Right, shall we say the matter’s closed now?”

  Everyone agreed, Oksa a little more eagerly than anyone else. The image of dissected crickets on a laboratory table surrounded by secret agents who all looked like McGraw came unbidden to her mind and made her shudder. Abakum began speaking.

 
“That’s what the Curbita-Flatulo is for, sweetheart. It’ll help you control your moods and emotions by applying pressure to your wrist.”

  “A stress reliever, that’s great!” exclaimed Oksa.

  “However, if you persist in doing what you were thinking of doing, despite its attempts to stop you, the Curbita-Flatulo will show its displeasure. I’d rather you were forewarned: quite frankly, it’s not very pleasant. And one very important thing,” continued Abakum, “you must feed it every morning. That’s extremely important. It’s essential you don’t forget.”

  “Or else?” asked Marie Pollock, sounding slightly worried.

  “Or else, the Curbita-Flatulo will be like a bear with a sore head. And when it’s in that kind of mood, it feels sorry for itself and, although its job is to encourage discretion, I’d say that its displeasure won’t go unnoticed—far from it, in fact! So one granule a day, no more and certainly no less, okay?” said Abakum firmly, handing Oksa a small round tin. “This contains enough food for a month. And I have a present for you too. The key accessory for any self-respecting Insider. Here you are, my dear Oksa, this is your Granok-Shooter.”

  31

  THE LOWDOWN ON GRANOKOLOGY

  FROM THE INSIDE POCKET OF HIS JACKET, ABAKUM DREW a small tube about six inches long and an inch in diameter.

  “What is that?” asked Oksa. “A flute?”

  Everyone began laughing, particularly the Lunatrixes, who rolled around on the ground.

  “Oh, oh, granddaughter of our Gracious, a flute! How comical! Your humour expands our zygomatic bones, oh, oh!”

  “Those two are completely mental!” remarked Oksa, spluttering with laughter.

  Then, growing more serious again:

  “But isn’t that the sort of blowpipe I saw on Baba’s Camereye?”

  “Exactly,” answered Abakum. “To be more precise, this is a Granok-Shooter. YOUR Granok-Shooter, my dear. Everyone in Edefia has one. I made your gran’s Granok-Shooter many years ago and now it’s your turn to have one.”

  Abakum held out the precious tube with a smile. As soon as she grasped it, a strong gust of wind made the walls creak and stripped the leaves from the trees in the square. A bright flash haloed Oksa with an intense light, which she just had time to glimpse before it disappeared. Dragomira and Abakum looked at each other in amazement.

  “What was that?” asked Oksa.

  “Recognition, darling,” replied Abakum, sounding more emotional than he would have liked. “Your Granok-Shooter recognized you and, through it, the Ageless Ones greeted you.”

  “Oh yes, the Ageless Fairies!” blurted Oksa, filled with wonder.

  Dragomira smiled, but it was Marie who spoke next, sounding upset:

  “My Goodness… Fairies… You’ve really decided not to spare me anything, haven’t you!”

  Oksa turned her Granok-Shooter round cautiously, examining it from every angle. It was a strange, magnificent object with a slight shimmer. Its mouthpiece was engraved with floral motifs which perfectly complemented Oksa’s name, written in rose-gold letters at the other end.

  “It’s made from an alloy of meerschaum and amber,” explained Abakum, getting a grip on his emotions. “There are minuscule compartments inside designed to hold different kinds of granules, called Granoks, which can be animal, vegetable or mineral in origin, depending on their function. The Granok-Shooter allows us to store them and use them when we need them. Granokology has always existed, but great progress has been made over the past two centuries. On their Dreamflights, the Graciouses observed that the Outside was making great leaps forward in science, technology and space travel. As Outside technology advanced, the Graciouses began to fear that our land might be discovered one day and they decided to implement a huge Granokology development programme at the end of the nineteenth century, a programme which hinged upon the design of defensive Granoks. Just in case… Since weapons were banned in Edefia, Granoks had always seemed like a good compromise between our values and our expertise. There are a great many Granoks, all very different from each other, ranging from so-called ‘recreational’ Granoks like the Laughing-Rill to more aggressive Granoks like the Dozident, for example.”

  “The Laughing-Rill?” asked Oksa, stopping him.

  “Yes, the Laughing-Rill, which makes the person who receives it laugh so much that they lose control of their bladder. The Dozident, on the other hand, can plunge someone into a deep sleep.”

  “For ever?”

  “That depends on the dose and your adversary’s constitution,” explained Abakum. “But yes, the sleep can last for ever.”

  “Are there any other aggressive Granoks?” asked Oksa, fascinated. “Which is the most dangerous?”

  “Oh, without going into detail, I’d say that the Stuffarax is one of the most dangerous Granoks. It releases insects in the throat of the person who receives it and chokes them.”

  “Killing them?”

  “That can happen, yes.”

  “That’s fiendish!” exclaimed Oksa. “Who makes the Granoks?”

  “As you know, your gran and I were herbalists. But, first and foremost, we’re experts in Granokology; we know how to make most of the existing Granoks. In Edefia I belonged to a very select brotherhood of official suppliers, which kept a very low profile. But one of our number joined the Felons and secretly made substances against which none of us had any defence during the Great Chaos.”

  “The Black Globuses?”

  “You know a thing or two, don’t you, young lady?” remarked Abakum, staring at her intently.

  His face darkening suddenly, he continued.

  “Those Granoks belonged to the most dangerous category, because they were based on chemical products banned for use due to their toxicity and, as a result, their monstrous potential for destruction and death. But the Felons surprised us by their mastery of the Black Globuses and by the large stocks they’d managed to accumulate in the utmost secrecy. All this clearly proved that they’d been planning the attack for quite a few months—such treachery. The Black Globus which caused the worst injuries was the Putrefactio, produced from rock dust from the Peak Ridge mountains. This simply rots any limb it comes into contact with.”

  “That’s what I saw on the Camereye!” exclaimed Oksa. “That man who was groaning on the floor while his arm decomposed; it was disgusting.”

  “Yes, the Putrefactio is a terrible weapon,” agreed Abakum, nodding gravely. “Since we’ve been on the Outside, though, I’ve managed to perfect a few substances even more powerful than the Putrefactio, such as the Crucimaphila, which can only be used by your gran, who is a Gracious.”

  “What does that Granok do?” asked Oksa, seeing that Abakum was in two minds about continuing his description.

  “It kills, my dear. This is a lethal Granok. It absorbs your enemy in a black light which kills him.”

  “Wow, that’s radical! What about me, can I use it? I’m also a Gracious!”

  “Yes, you can,” replied Dragomira, taken aback by Oksa’s enthusiasm. “But before you can handle Granoks as dangerous as that, you must learn a great many things. Granokology is a thrilling but complex science which leaves nothing to chance. And there are also the powers, not only those you already know, but others you don’t. You have to be initiated. Abakum, Leomido and I will be your teachers, if you like.”

  “You bet I do! But there’s something else—”

  She stopped herself. She was burning to ask a question. A crucial question. But should she ask it? Did she really need to know?

  “Something else?” encouraged her gran.

  “What’s the use of knowing all this?” she risked saying. “I love being able to do all these things, it’s unreal! But if I have to hide it, it sort of makes me wonder why I have to learn it?”

  She looked at her parents with concern. But, contrary to what she’d feared, they appeared calm and resigned. It seemed as though everyone had been expecting that question. Her gran was the one to speak:
<
br />   “My dear granddaughter, we need you. I’ve shown you why we had to flee Edefia and, deep down, we all want to return to our lost land and restore the equilibrium which has been shattered. Our people are suffering, they need help. We’ve made a great many attempts, but without the Mark they’ve been futile. Since the Chaos, you are, to our knowledge, the first person to bear it. And you’ve become the last link in the chain which will make it possible to lift the curse and restore the Cloak Chamber. That’s why our hope is stronger than ever.”

  “But… what’s in the Cloak Chamber? What’s so important?” asked Oksa.

  Dragomira’s eyes clouded.

  “No one, except the Graciouses who’ve entered it, can know. So apart from the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told—or rather, the Secret-Which-Is-No-Longer-A-Secret—I don’t know. I can’t answer your question, because the doors of the Chamber were closed to me for ever after Ocious’s attack and our escape to the Outside. But I do know that the Cloak bestows supreme power. A power that only the Gracious may receive, and no one else, even if they use the utmost violence.”

  “But Ocious did seize the power, didn’t he!” exclaimed Oksa excitedly.

  “Yes, he did, but it’s a power which wasn’t intended for him. And I fear that this usurpation has caused a dangerous imbalance which may bring about the ruin of Edefia.”

  “If it hasn’t already,” added Abakum sombrely.

  “Then we must go there!” said Oksa passionately. “We must save Edefia!”

  “It’s not that simple.” Pavel looked dejected.

  “But I have the Mark!”

  “You aren’t ready…”

  “You mean I’m just a beginner!” retorted the girl.

  “Not in the sense you mean,” answered Dragomira calmly. “You are a beginner, when it comes down to it, and it would be foolish to embark on this venture before we’re ready. We don’t know what we’re likely to find in Edefia. All we know is what we left behind: a land governed by chaos and bloodshed. Who knows what has become of it with the Felons and Ocious in power?”

  Everyone around the table fell silent, thinking gravely about what she’d just said. After a few minutes Oksa looked up and said: