As if to confirm his words, there was an alarming din as ten helicopters came hedge-hopping over the moorland. One of them hovered in front of the Runaways and they trembled with fear. Dragomira just had time to hide her Tumble-Bawler and the Veloso under her cape before a soldier popped his head out of the aircraft, megaphone in hand.
“Is anyone hurt? Do you need any help?” he boomed.
Abakum signalled that everything was fine, thanks, and the helicopter rejoined its squadron heading for the roads out of eastern England and London, which were chock-a-block as thousands of disaster victims poured into the area.
“How did you find us?” asked Oksa.
Abakum tapped his nose in amusement.
“Leomido’s house is only a couple of miles from here.”
Oksa sniffed at the air and exclaimed:
“All I can smell is mud, it’s so unfair!”
“I do have an uncommonly good sense of smell, sweetheart,” said the Fairyman. “And it’s not as if you don’t have a great many talents yourself, is it?”
“Fat lot of good they are! With these stupid helicopters popping up unexpectedly, we can’t even Vertifly for short distances!”
Everyone smiled except Gus, who turned his back on them with a brusqueness which upset Oksa.
“Excellent… Let’s go and find Naftali then,” suggested Dragomira. “It’s high time we were all back together.”
They set off again, their backs bowed under the beating rain but their hearts filled with renewed purpose.
3
NEWFOUND CLOSENESS
SITTING DROWSILY BY THE ROARING FIRE IN THE HUGE hearth, the Runaways were trying to regain their strength and composure after the turbulent events of the past few hours. Curled up in a comfortable armchair, Oksa was desperately fighting sleep, although she couldn’t have said why. It would feel so good just to let go… She rested her head against the padded back of the chair and looked around at the modern paintings on the walls of the lofty converted church nave.
This house—which had once belonged to Leomido, Dragomira’s late brother—had lost none of its magnificence, but there was something missing—its owner would never be back… Oksa took a deep breath to stop tears welling and tried to attract Gus’s attention. He was sitting a few yards away, completely expressionless, and his poker face made her seethe with frustration. She kept shooting glances at him, by turns furious and pleading, her stomach churning with conflicting emotions when, suddenly, just as she thought she was about to explode, she felt something leave her body. The almost unbearable weight lifted as she incredulously watched an almost invisible emanation—a transparent figure which looked just like her—make its way over to Gus and do what she desperately wanted to do in her place: lift Gus’s chin with her fingertips and force him to look at her. Gus frowned, puzzled by the vague sensation, as Oksa avidly watched this bizarre phenomenon, feeling the touch of her friend’s skin beneath her own fingers…
“What’s happening to me?” she wondered, wide-eyed. Too tired to react, Gus didn’t look away and they both sat there, motionless and bewildered. For the first time in days, Gus wasn’t avoiding her eyes and looked more surprised by this than anyone. Oksa held his gaze and the strange figure soon disappeared, but the most important thing was that contact had been re-established, even though it still felt a little awkward.
“Ahem, ahem…”
Two small creatures in bright-green dungarees had positioned themselves near Gus. One was podgy and the other slender, but both had huge eyes like Manga heroes, broad faces and a thin, translucent down over their pinkish skin.
“Oh, hello Lunatrixes!” said Gus.
“Our wildest compliments are to be presented to the friend of the Young Gracious,” began the Lunatrix.
“Um… thanks…” muttered Gus, surprised at being addressed with such deference.
When the chubby-cheeked little creatures didn’t say anything else, he had to press them:
“Can I do something for you?”
Leomido’s Lunatrixes nodded frantically, pushing a third Lunatrix in front of them—their child and the only Lunatrix to be miraculously born on the Outside.
“He’s so cute!” cried Oksa.
“The domestic staff of the Master-Impictured-Forever make the avowal of a request whose contents will be set forth, friend of the Gracious family… The lineage of the Lunatrixes has preserved the recollection garnished with warmth of your erstwhile consent to cradle his body and lavish caresses on him…”
Gus tossed back a strand of long black hair, revealing his handsome Eurasian face. When he’d stayed with Leomido before, he’d let the Lunatrix baby go to sleep on his lap. He’d been so angry that evening. At Oksa and himself. Like today… He glanced furtively at his friend, who was also bound to remember that evening. She smiled at him, sharing the memory, and, dropping all restraint, gave him a wink… which he impulsively returned. Her face lit up.
“The questioning is whether the wish for a recurrence would be conceivable?” continued the Lunatrix, purple with embarrassment.
“Of course!” replied Gus, bending down to pick up the gurgling toddler.
His body was plump and soft and he was just over a foot tall. His large blue eyes shone like marbles, as he gazed adoringly at Gus. He curled up on his lap, as Gus gently stroked his back, and, a few seconds later, was sound asleep, snoring happily. Beside themselves with gratitude, the Lunatrixes bowed several times, so frantically that Gus was afraid they’d topple over.
“The friend of the Gracious family must be showered with gratitude.”
“I’ve had enough showers to last a lifetime!” said Gus, with a wry look at the torrential rain through the window.
To the amusement of everyone there, the Lunatrixa threw herself down on the floor so violently that she slid over the waxed parquet like a penguin on ice.
“Ooohhhh! Your domestic staff is in possession of such a hollow brain!” she lamented. “Will you grant forgiveness for such a wretched declaration?”
Everyone tried their best not to laugh at the small steward’s melodramatic reaction.
“It’s already forgotten!” said Gus reassuringly.
“Your goodwill knows huge dimensions and our gratitude will last until the end of the world!”
This stark reminder of their perilous situation made the Runaways’ blood run cold.
“Until the end of the world… yes, we’d almost forgotten that small detail,” scoffed Tugdual.
His grandparents, Brune and Naftali, looked at him reproachfully. Tugdual loved making light of the most serious events, but those close to him knew it was just his way of bearing the unbearable. With a false smile that fooled no one, Tugdual drew himself up and stalked out with one last glance at Oksa. The silence in the room, punctuated only by the snoring of the young Lunatrix and the noise of the rain, grew heavier. No one felt like talking—the Runaways were all dazed with tiredness. Dragomira’s bracelets jingled as she got up, wrapping her crimson woollen cardigan tightly around her. Brune and Naftali also rose to their feet and headed for the comfortable bedrooms upstairs, followed by frail Reminiscens and the Bellangers. Those who were left in the huge living room sat lost in their own private thoughts.
Unlike the other Runaways, who were fighting a losing battle with drowsiness, Oksa felt more awake after the interlude with the Lunatrixes. She walked over to Gus, her eyes on the toddler, unable to work out why her heart was racing.
“Gently does it,” murmured Gus.
She hesitated. Did he mean the hand she was stretching out to stroke the little creature? Or the way she’d acted towards him?
“I’m not a brute!” she protested.
This remark made him laugh and Oksa couldn’t help joining in. It seemed like the truce he’d declared by winking back at her was holding.
“Go on then…” he said, jutting his chin at the Lunatrix, who was sound asleep and snoring gently.
Oksa lightly stroked the downy ski
n with her fingertips. Her gaze wandered from the chubby little sleeper to Gus, whose expression was unreadable. Only his rapidly quivering eyelids betrayed his inner turmoil. Suddenly they both started to speak at exactly the same time, drowning each other out. They burst out laughing in surprise.
“What did you say?” they both asked in unison.
Gus looked up at the ceiling, not wanting to show how amused he was.
“Um… I can’t remember…” admitted Oksa.
“It can’t have been important, then. No change there!” retorted Gus, gently teasing her.
“Oohhh, you should be ashamed of yourself!” said Oksa, pretending to be cross with him.
“Me? What about you?”
Oksa’s face clouded over and she glared at her friend.
“I knew it wouldn’t be long before the snide remarks began,” she muttered.
All the merriment had disappeared from Gus’s eyes. Had he been trying to hurt her or had she just misinterpreted his words? Oksa grimaced and her eyes darkened.
“Let’s drop it,” murmured Gus. “Look over there. What on earth do you think it’s trying to do?”
Seizing this lifeline, Oksa turned round. The creature which had just come into the room, a very wrinkled kind of walrus, was struggling in vain to throw a colossal log onto the fire. Another odd-looking creature with a mane of dishevelled hair next to it was frantically dancing from foot to foot.
“Hey, dimwit! You’re certainly living up to your name! Can’t you see that log will never fit in a million years?” yelled the shaggy creature, jumping up and down.
The walrus turned round with an uncertain look on its face.
“I’m not a dimwit, I’m an Incompetent…”
“I rest my case!” shouted the other creature.
“What are you then?”
“A GE-TO-RIX! And unlike you, Incompetent, I’ve actually got some brains up here!” it said, patting its head. “That’s why I said you’ll NEVER fit that log in the fireplace, it’s mathematically impossible!”
The Incompetent looked so disappointed at this information that Gus and Oksa burst out laughing. Coming to its aid, Oksa said:
“Incompetent, why don’t you try spitting at it?”
“Spitting at it? But that’s very rude!” it objected naively.
“No, go ahead, I promise it’ll work.”
The Incompetent obeyed with a revolting hawking noise and the middle of the huge log dissolved immediately as if attacked by a powerful acid, giving off acrid fumes. Laughing and coughing, Oksa got up to help the blissfully happy creature put the two pieces of wood in the hearth.
“You’re incredible, Incompetent!” she giggled.
“Thank you, but I feel a little under the weather: I have terrible acid reflux.”
“Poor thing…” said Oksa sympathetically, patting its soft head.
“My Young Gracious,” broke in Dragomira’s Lunatrix, “the Old Gracious has made conveyancing of the wish to benefit from your company. Would you be in agreement to follow her domestic staff to see her?”
“Er… of course, I’m right behind you,” replied Oksa, slightly worried. “See you later, Gus…”
Gus gave her a small wave and she followed the Lunatrix, who was clad in a pair of spotless blue dungarees, up the monumental staircase.
4
AN UNFORGETTABLE PAST
ALTHOUGH OKSA COULD BARELY SEE DRAGOMIRA IN the gloomy room, she’d have recognized her anywhere from the plaits coiled around her head and the gold earrings bearing two tiny birds which were very much alive.
“Come in, Dushka, come in,” rang out Baba Pollock’s voice.
Oksa came into the room, her steps muffled by the plush burgundy carpet. She sat down in the leather armchair facing her gran in front of the hearth, relishing the comforting heat from the blazing fire. Some tiny hens were clucking with pleasure by the fireplace and enthusiastically fluffing up their speckled wings. Not far from them, a striped Veloso was in mid-air pursuit of the miniature birds, which had just taken off from the golden perches hanging from Dragomira’s ears to fly over to Oksa.
“Hello, Ptitchkins!”
“It’s the Young Gracious!” chirped the birds, lifting up two strands of hair to form antennae. “She’s so pretty! We love her so much!”
They landed on her shoulder and rubbed their feathered heads against her neck.
“Would my Old Gracious and the Young Gracious relish the desire to lap up a fresh cup of tea?” asked the Lunatrix.
Dragomira smiled. “That would be lovely, my Lunatrix. But we’ll just drink it normally, if you don’t mind.”
The Lunatrix bowed and left the room. Oksa leant over to Dragomira.
“I just love his use of vocabulary!”
“Well, yes…” said Dragomira, with a chuckle. “Even if his word choices do sometimes leave a lot to be desired!”
The small steward came back clutching an enormous china teapot, patterned with flowers. A few moments later, the two Graciouses were ensconced in their armchairs, sipping steaming cups of tea. Dragomira studied Oksa quizzically.
“What’s the matter, Baba?”
“Something odd happened earlier, didn’t it?”
Oksa blushed. Her gran had to be talking about the unusual phenomenon that had taken place between her and Gus.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
Dragomira smiled and shook her head.
“I have no idea what it was,” admitted Oksa. “It sounds crazy, but it was like a part of me had taken over and was doing what I wanted to do for me.”
“That’s exactly what happened, sweetheart. What you’re talking about is your Identego. It’s something that’s part of your subconscious but, unlike other human beings, your Identego can manifest itself in an intangible, yet physical, form.”
“So you actually saw it?” asked Oksa in a strangled voice.
“Abakum and I were both aware of its presence,” replied Dragomira. “The Identego is an extremely rare Gracious power. To my knowledge, you’re only the second Gracious in the history of Edefia to possess it.”
“Were you the first?”
“Unfortunately not. Don’t forget that I never finished training as a Gracious… The woman with whom you share this extraordinary gift was the first Gracious of Edefia.”
Oksa’s heart lurched with panic. She set down her cup of tea and pressed her hands together to stop them shaking.
“Does that mean I’m the last Gracious? That I won’t be able to restore equilibrium to the two worlds and that everything is coming to an end?”
Dragomira looked at her in amazement. “Of course not, Dushka! If there is a parallel to be drawn, I think it’s much more likely that you’re the Gracious who’ll breathe new life into Edefia. I’m sure of that!”
Oksa thought for a moment, before questioning her gran again:
“How does the Identego work?”
“You’ll soon learn to control it,” replied Dragomira, evasively. “And I wouldn’t mind betting it’ll come in very handy when we have to face whatever’s waiting for us around the corner.”
“You mean Orthon?”
“I’m still worried about what Reminiscens said,” admitted Dragomira. “If Orthon’s overriding desire is to take revenge on his father, Ocious, then he’ll stop at nothing. The more I think about it, the more aware I am of the repercussions of what I saw nearly sixty years ago. So many things went over my head…”
“You were still so young, though, Baba!” insisted Oksa, troubled by her gran’s serious tone. “You wouldn’t have been able to understand what was happening or how Ocious’s behaviour would shape the man Orthon would become.”
“One thing I did realize was what a cold, twisted man Ocious was—the worst possible father anyone could have.”
The old woman looked up at the bare wall opposite them, focusing her Camereye on it, and various images emerged from the deepest recesses of her memory.
Ortho
n’s teenage face appeared first. The scene was unfolding on the balcony of a high tower—the Glass Column, thought Oksa. Lush climbing plants twined about the balustrades to provide a shady canopy. Young Dragomira appeared to be playing merrily with a slender jet of water arching from the round basin of a crystalline fountain. Twirling her index finger to coax it into weird and wonderful trajectories, she was aiming the water at Orthon and Leomido, who looked around thirteen. Peals of childish laughter erupted from her when a thin stream of spinning water splashed over Orthon. His eyes wide with surprise, he nudged Leomido, who was laughing beside him, and they winked at each other before launching themselves at Dragomira, growling like big cats. What followed was the wildest tickling session ever seen. The Camereye blurred as the dark room rang with the loud laughter that still haunted the Old Gracious’s memories. Suddenly, the Camereye zoomed in on Orthon, whose face fell at the sound of his father’s chilly voice. It swivelled round and Ocious appeared in Dragomira’s field of vision. His sturdy yet elegant figure commanded fear and respect. His dark eyes narrowed when he saw his son squatting beside Dragomira, who’d rolled into a ball to escape the two boys’ “revenge”. Orthon jumped to his feet, looking pale. He muttered a few incomprehensible words, which only made his father glower more fiercely.
“Why are you trying to justify yourself?” asked Ocious in a steely voice. “Making excuses shows how spineless you really are. Why don’t you take responsibility for your actions, even the harmless ones? After all, you weren’t doing anything wrong, were you?”
In response to Orthon’s tormented silence, he added:
“Is Leomido denying anything? No. He stands by what he does. You should take a leaf out of your… friend’s book,” he concluded, then turned on his heel.
Now the secret about the birth of Leomido, Orthon, Dragomira and Reminiscens had come to light—Malorane was the mother of them all—this remark was shocking, hateful and perverse. Ocious was a dreadful man. Oksa couldn’t help feeling sorry for Orthon, abandoned by his biological mother and despised by his father. Leomido wasn’t Ocious’s son and yet the man admired and respected him. Oksa understood how angry Orthon must have felt throughout his adolescence, until the love affair between Leomido and Reminiscens had caused the truth about their origins to be admitted, ruining their lives. Secrets which can’t remain under wraps for ever may turn into ticking time bombs which, sooner or later, will blow up in the face of anyone who comes too close…
The Heart of Two Worlds Page 2