“Oh Gus, if you only knew!”
And she began telling him in minute detail about the revelations of the past few hours. Sitting up in bed, Gus listened closely in amazement without interrupting.
“We’ve got ourselves mixed up in one hell of a business here,” he whistled, as soon as Oksa had finished. “McGraw? A Felon from Edefia? This is bad.”
The two friends looked at each other for a moment, their thoughts racing.
“You know, something is going on with Leomido, it’s very odd,” said Oksa moving closer to Gus. “It’s almost as if he’s trying to defend McGraw, it’s as if he’s on his side.”
“But you don’t think that he’s the one who led him to you?” asked Gus breathlessly.
“No! Why would he have defended us like that, otherwise? He would have just handed me over, no questions asked. It doesn’t make sense. There’s something else going on… but what?”
“And did you notice that McGraw looked a whole lot younger than your great-uncle?” added Gus in concern. “But they should be about the same age, shouldn’t they?”
“Yes,” replied the girl, intrigued. “That’s weird.”
“There’s something else too…”
Gus closed his eyes, overcome with emotion. When he reopened them, Oksa could see he was upset.
“I was semi-conscious, but I’m sure I saw my parents here,” he stammered.
“Your mother—” began Oksa.
“…is a Runaway, is that it?” continued Gus, his voice cracking.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made them both jump. They spun round to see Abakum leaning against the doorjamb. His arms crossed, the stooped, elderly man gazed at them both with penetrating grey eyes.
“Abakum! Oh no, you must have heard everything,” wailed Oksa.
“Don’t worry,” he replied amicably. “You know you can trust me. I’ve never betrayed anyone.”
Oksa pulled a face.
“Can I give you some advice, my dear? Just be careful of passing judgement without knowing all the facts. Things aren’t always as they seem.”
“Okay, Abakum,” said Oksa, hanging her head.
“All the same, your gut feelings and your instinct can sometimes be just as accurate as knowing certain facts,” added Abakum mysteriously. “It’s all a question of balance.”
He looked at the two friends for a long time before continuing:
“I thought I heard you talking about Orthon’s appearance. What did you mean exactly?”
“Well, he looks much younger than Leomido, which is really odd,” explained Oksa.
“How much younger?” asked Abakum, inquisitively.
Oksa glanced at Gus.
“Thirty years younger, easily,” she replied, and Gus nodded in agreement.
“As much as that?” said Abakum in astonishment. “Then I understand your surprise.”
The elderly man narrowed his eyes and stroked his short beard absent-mindedly for a few seconds.
“What does that mean, Abakum?”
“I have my own thoughts on this, but it will wait until later. For the time being, I think Gus would like the answer to a more pressing question: you’re intrigued by your parents being here, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Gus, tossing back a strand of hair that had fallen over his face. “Anyway, my mother is on the list, which means she’s a Runaway, doesn’t it?” he added, sounding vexed.
“Your mother is one of the descendants of the Runaways and, as a result, there was a chance that she could one day be our Gracious. That’s why her name appears on that list you… um… found. Only she wasn’t the one who was chosen,” he added, giving Oksa an affectionate smile. “But don’t you think it would be better to talk to your parents about it?”
Abakum helped Gus out of bed and offered his arm to go down to the living room, with Oksa leading the way.
“Jeanne, Pierre, here’s a young man who’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Gus!” exclaimed Pierre.
The man whom everyone nicknamed “The Viking” wore a sheepish expression on his face, which was somewhat at odds with his impressive girth.
“Well,” he muttered. “Since the time has come for revelations…”
He finally looked straight at Gus, who was in agonies.
“As you’ve realized, we’re here, son, because we’re no strangers to Edefia. Like Pavel, your mother and I weren’t born there and we’ve never been there. But our parents were part of the group of Runaways who passed through the Portal on the day the Great Chaos started.”
A terrible shooting pain made Gus put his head in his hands and slide down the wall. His father rushed over to hold him up and then carried him to the sofa, next to his mother.
“Take this, dear boy,” said Dragomira, holding out a small bluish phial. “I don’t think another dose would do you any harm—quite the reverse, in fact.”
Gus closed his eyes, downed the contents of the phial in one and pulled a face, shaking his head.
“This stuff will certainly clean out my stomach!”
“The taste is not filled with excellence, but the action is triumphant over poisonings,” said the Lunatrix encouragingly.
Gus smiled weakly at the little creature, then turned to his mother.
“Explain everything to me, Mum, please. I want to know.”
“My father was called Tempel,” began sweet-natured Jeanne Bellanger. “He was the Sylvabuls’ representative in the High Enclave, Edefia’s government. Pierre’s parents were Firmhands, in charge of supply at the Glass Column. All three were very close to Gracious Malorane, which is why they enjoyed her protection as far as the Portal. Like everyone lucky enough to benefit from this, they swore to take care of Dragomira. But unfortunately, when the Runaways were ejected from Edefia through the Portal, they were scattered throughout the world. Only those who were next to each other managed to stay together: that’s what happened with Dragomira, Abakum and Leomido. My father and Pierre’s parents formed another group; they were ejected into Czechoslovakia, a couple of thousand miles from Siberia. They integrated quickly and always remained very close. My father married a young Czech woman and I was born twelve years later. During the events of August 1968, when the Russians invaded Prague, my parents were killed. Pierre’s parents took me under their wing and treated me like their own daughter. Soon after, we went into exile. This was the second time for Pierre’s parents. Instinct took them to France and, as luck would have it, they met up again with Dragomira, Abakum and Leomido a few years later.”
“How did they do that?” broke in Oksa, captivated by the story.
“When my family were still in Czechoslovakia, the country was closed and it was hard for us to find out what was happening in the West. But a few months after our arrival in France, Pierre’s father chanced upon an article about Leomido who, as you know, had become a renowned conductor. He immediately recognized him from the photo, like other Runaways who lived in countries with greater freedom of information. So a few of them were reunited as a result of your great-uncle’s reputation, Oksa: first-generation Insiders, like Mercedica in Spain, Naftali and Brune in Sweden, Cockerell in Japan.”
“How many of you are there? Do you know?” asked Gus.
“At present, we know ten Runaways. Without counting Orthon, whom we could happily have done without,” replied Pierre “The Viking” bitterly. “The list you’ve just given us will provide information that will help us to find others. There were thirty-five in the group which accompanied Gracious Malorane, but we don’t know how many managed to pass through the Portal. It’s even harder when it comes to the second and third generations, because not all of them necessarily told their children about their origins.”
“Like you,” muttered Gus.
“Oh, Gus!” exclaimed his mother, trying to draw him closer.
“Which means that for a few weeks you’ve known that I know the whole story and you’ve acted as though
nothing had changed!” shouted Gus rebelliously, pushing her away.
“Don’t be angry…” said his father gently.
“I’m not angry,” grumbled Gus, “I feel humiliated. You must have been falling about laughing!”
“Really, Gus!” cried his mother indignantly, sitting up straight. “Why would we have been laughing? Do you really think this is a laughing matter?”
“Yes, you’re right,” conceded Gus belligerently, “it’s not funny at all. It’s even worse than I thought it was.”
“Why is it worse, Gus?”
“Because now I’m even more of an outsider!” he exploded.
“Oh no, he’s off, screwed-up Gus strikes again… why don’t you give it a rest? I’ve had it up to here!” yelled Oksa. “You’re with us because you’re my friend, the best friend I could ever hope for. What more do you want? And if that’s not enough for you, remind me who made it possible for us to get all that information about McGraw? Who prompted me with the words of the Tornaphyllon spell when my mind was a complete blank? Who is always there to help me see things clearly? YOU ARE, FOR YOUR INFORMATION!”
With a crimson face and tears in her eyes, Oksa glared at Gus, then whirled round and hurried to the far end of the living room, where she threw herself down on a sofa.
“I’ve had as much of this as I can take,” she muttered.
46
A CRY FOR HELP
THE ENSUING SILENCE WAS DREADFULLY EMBARRASSING, particularly for Gus, who felt humiliated and ashamed. His parents gazed sadly at him, feeling hurt and helpless. Their son would need some time to come to terms with being kept in the dark about their past. But he’d come round. Later. He was taking it hard now, though. “Completely understandable, really—I would have acted the same if I’d been in his shoes,” thought Pierre, trying to make himself feel better.
“We have to decide what we’re going to do about Orthon!” Brune Knut said suddenly in her incredibly deep voice, as she sank back in her leather armchair. “This is very serious.”
“What can we do?” said Marie.
“Not a lot, I’m afraid,” replied Abakum. “Informing the police is out of the question, they’d think we were mad.”
“Certifiable,” muttered Tugdual, in his corner.
“Or worse, we’d become laboratory rats in the hands of the scientists,” continued Abakum, ignoring the boy’s remark. “We all know that. It would certainly be difficult to take the children out of school.”
“And, anyway, it wouldn’t make any difference now that Orthon knows that Oksa has the Mark,” added Dragomira. “Look how he managed to track down some of us,” she said, indicating the list that she still held in her hand. “Unless we change identity and flee to the far ends of the earth…”
“We’ve already done so much running, and for what?” cried Pavel angrily. “We’re in even more danger than before!”
“No, we must stick together,” continued Dragomira, glaring at her son. “Stick together and remain true to ourselves and to each other. We must be prepared for the worst. We must join forces to fight Orthon and, most importantly, to defend Oksa. The fate of everyone here hangs in the balance.”
“But Oksa doesn’t belong to you!” roared Pavel, making everyone jump. “It isn’t up to you to decide her destiny. Stop yoking it to yours!”
“Pavel, please, this is neither the time nor the place,” replied Dragomira curtly.
“I’ll say it again: Orthon won’t harm Oksa,” said Leomido in a cracked voice. “He has a vested interest in keeping her safe. He wants the same as us: to go back to Edefia.”
“And that’s out of the question!” retorted Pavel.
He got to his feet and began pacing up and down some distance away from the group. From where she was, Oksa could see him perfectly. His face ashen, he kept glancing at Marie in despair. He looked so weary, so anguished. All because of that damned Mark. “I should have kept quiet instead of showing it to Baba,” she said to herself, chewing her lip. Finding out the secret of her origins had led to nothing but trouble and danger for her family. Edefia just created problems for them. And she, Oksa, the girl they now called “The Last Hope”, was only making a difficult situation worse. Despite the best efforts of the Curbita-Flatulo, fear and anger were forming a painful ball in the pit of her stomach. A ball which was swelling and swelling as it spread bitter bile through all the veins of her body. Then, like a raging storm, her distress overcame her resistance.
“IF THIS GOES ON, I WON’T DO ANOTHER THING!” she yelled, at the end of her tether.
The room rang with her words. She couldn’t bear being the focus of attention again so she jumped up from the sofa to make her escape. But she was stopped by a mighty flash which suddenly illuminated the room, shaking the walls and ceiling. Particles of plaster showered down on her, covering her with white powder, while electric filaments began crackling and zigzagging towards the Runaways, although they never touched them. Marie screamed as a golden filament brushed past her face, bathing her in a ghostly light. Oksa froze, awed but not in the least afraid. She knew what this was. She recognized these sensations because she’d already experienced them. There was no doubt about it: the Ageless Fairies were there, inside her. She was hearing their voices deep within, close to her beating heart. But, unlike the other times, she wasn’t the only one to be aware of their presence: all the Runaways were witnessing this. It seemed to fill them with amazement.
“Don’t be afraid,” murmured Abakum, taking her hand, “they mean you no harm.”
“I know, I’m not afraid,” replied Oksa.
“What are they saying?” whispered Dragomira.
The filaments were still crackling around Oksa, who was about to answer her gran when she was lifted into the air by a phenomenal force. Marie put her hand over her mouth, her eyes filled with panic and fear.
“Oksa! Stop that immediately!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“She’s not doing it,” whispered Abakum. “It’s the Ageless Ones, they want to say something.”
Oksa didn’t fight it. Halfway up to the ceiling in the huge room she hung in the air, motionless and self-assured. Incredibly self-assured. The voice of the Ageless Ones spread through her, coupled with an unfamiliar feeling of strength and certainty. Suddenly the crackling stopped and the electric filaments vanished. All the Runaways stiffened and looked at each other. That’s when they heard a warm, enchanting voice which seemed to be coming simultaneously from inside them and from the four corners of the room:
The curse is drawing to its end
Because the Last Hope bears the Mark
Which will lead to the land Inside.
Its might and the two Graciouses allied
Are the hope that can save the world and its heart.
The power of darkness cannot vanquish its strength
And we will keep watch to the end.
In the next second, everything stopped and Oksa found herself back on the ground, feeling dazed but strangely calm. A myriad sparks were spinning around her. No one said a word; all eyes were on her face. Dragomira drew her granddaughter closer, put a hand on her shoulder and pressed gently to reassure her.
“Dushka,” she began.
But she broke off, too choked with emotion to continue what she was saying.
“Wow, that was something else!” exclaimed Oksa, brushing off the plaster dust. “Did you see that?”
“It would have been hard not to,” said Marie, with some difficulty.
She looked down and sighed deeply, as if to quell her mounting panic. Cautiously, Pavel put his hand on her arm. The immense anxiety they shared had brought them even closer.
“It was the Ageless Fairies, Mum,” explained Oksa, feeling drained by what had just happened. “I think they…”
For a brief moment, she searched for the right word. She couldn’t make up her mind between “are guiding me” and “are summoning me” when Gus, his eyes bright with excitement, broke in.
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“…they know,” he said simply.
Oksa looked at him gratefully, glad that the friend she respected so much was back to his old self.
“Exactly, Gus,” said Abakum in agreement. “The Ageless Ones know who you are, Oksa. And, more than that, they know your power better than anyone, better even than yourself. What just happened is exceptional: it’s the first time the Ageless Ones have ever spoken directly to more than one person at a time. It has never happened in the Insiders’ memory! And it’s probably a sign that they’re desperate. This is a cry for help, my friends.”
“I never thought I’d live to see this,” remarked Naftali. “The Ageless Ones… incredible… do you realize what just happened?”
“It is amazing,” added Mercedica, “but it’s also very worrying.”
“What does it mean?” asked Oksa, anxiously.
“Nothing good, I fear,” replied Abakum, looking sadly at Dragomira. “‘Its might and the two Graciouses allied are the hope that can save the world and its heart’ is what they said.”
“If we have to save the world, then it’s in danger! That sounds serious—”
“Particularly as the world in question may not just be Edefia.”
47
A NOCTURNAL CHAT
HUNCHED ON THE STAIRS, HER ELBOWS ON HER KNEES, Oksa was trying to control the waves of anxiety sweeping over her. Her blood was thumping at her temples, causing a blinding headache. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, briefly taking some time out from the world and everything around her—and, as a result, didn’t see the dark, shadowy figure slip right past her and stand motionless in the dark recess of the stairwell…
“I have to get a grip,” she groaned.
She felt the Curbita-Flatulo moving on her wrist and lifted her sleeve. The small bracelet-animal was squirming vigorously in an attempt to calm her down.
“I’m making a lot of work for you at the moment, Curbita,” said Oksa, gently stroking it.
Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope Page 27
