The Heart of Two Worlds

by Anne Plichota

  “How do you cope… with all this?”

  The expression in Zoe’s eyes was intense, yet resigned.

  “I don’t cope, Oksa.”

  “I’m so sorry…” Oksa spluttered, surprised and ashamed.

  “Don’t apologize. It’s all good. Me and misery are old friends now, we can’t live without each other!”

  A strange smile lit up her face. She put her arms around Oksa and squeezed. Realizing that her friend wanted comfort, but wouldn’t ask for it, Oksa squeezed Zoe back as affectionately as she could. Zoe gave a deep, despairing sigh, weighed down by the permanent sadness she seemed unable to offload.

  “Go to him,” she said, gently pulling away. “But remember, Oksa: Gus needs you. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Although Oksa had thought Tugdual was lost in contemplation of the grey waves crashing over the hull of the ship, he was actually studying the screen of his mobile, scrolling through web pages from newspapers all over the world.

  “There you are, Lil’ Gracious,” he said, without taking his eyes off the screen.

  “Seemingly…”

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye with unsettling seriousness.

  “What’s the news?” she continued.

  “You really want to know?”

  He switched off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. Then he studied Oksa carefully.

  “You look exhausted, Lil’ Gracious.”

  “You didn’t answer my question…”

  “Nor did you.”

  “Yes, I really want to know!” she exclaimed.

  “Well, in a nutshell, London is under six feet of water, as are several other major international cities. The tectonic plates are doing a good impression of figure skating, which is causing tremors in all the fault zones and the Richter scale is in meltdown. Other than that, there have been all kinds of landslides, floods, erupting volcanoes and forest fires raging out of control.”

  “How awful!” cried Oksa.

  “Oh, I forgot! A huge section of the ice shelf has broken off after an earthquake, accelerating things further. There are 116 square miles of ice adrift in the North Pacific.”

  “Oh no!” gasped Oksa, her hand over her mouth.

  “It’s the end of the world, my Lil’ Gracious,” he said, sounding deceptively casual.

  Oksa punched him gently on the shoulder at this show of offhandedness—aware that he’d just called her “my” Lil’ Gracious for the first time.

  “Ouch,” Tugdual said gloomily. Oksa laughed nervously.

  “I could really hurt you if I wanted to!”

  “I know that,” admitted Tugdual in the same tone.

  He continued studying her with a sort of challenging, amused expression, which made her limbs go to jelly.

  “I could also really hurt you,” he said softly, as a strand of black hair fell over his face.

  Oksa didn’t say anything for a moment, feeling an agonizing uncertainty.

  “You could, but you won’t!” she retorted as firmly as she could. “Will you?”

  She gazed deep into Tugdual’s eyes. Just for a second, she was sure he’d hesitated, that something vulnerable had just surfaced. She found this as reassuring as it was unsettling. Tugdual had shown his weaknesses on several occasions. They melted Oksa’s heart, but perhaps they were too much for him to bear? And dangerous for the others? When Orthon had infiltrated Bigtoe Square, the only person he’d tried to win over was Tugdual, as if he’d sensed that he possessed a dark power, the potential for destruction… Oksa shook her head to banish this thought. The Lunatrix had assured her that Tugdual had a pure heart and was loyal to her. There was no way he could be wrong. The words of a song by Muse floated into her head. She hummed almost inaudibly.

  I want to reconcile the violence in your heart

  I want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask

  I want to exorcise the demons from your past…

  Tugdual looked at her in surprise, then turned away. They both stared at the roaring sea for a moment, hypnotized by its powerful, ceaseless motion.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Oksa, forcing herself back to the present.

  “You mean when I look at you?”

  “Stop answering my questions with a question!” sighed Oksa, trying not to smile.

  “OK… Do you have the time?”

  “Answer me instead of replying with another question!”

  “You asked for it… what I’m thinking often depends on what I’m looking at and how my mind interprets it. When I look at your father and Abakum, I think of a solid white iceberg and its invisible strength below the surface. When I look at Reminiscens and Zoe, I think of a poisoned dagger secreting venom into the heart, drop by cruel drop. When I look at Dragomira and my grandparents, I think about the lightning bolts of destiny which strike without warning. When I look at the sea, I think about my father clinging to his oil rig and I want to drown myself in the same dark water…”

  His voice broke. He gripped the railing, his face ashen, then continued:

  “When I look at my cousin, Kukka, I think about committing bloody murder. When I look at my little brother, I think about innocence which will inevitably be lost. And when I look at you, I think about power and the hope you represent. And that fascinates me.”

  After saying this, he withdrew into himself like an oyster closing its shell. But he’d gone too far and yet not far enough, in Oksa’s view.

  “Is the power I represent all you’re interested in?” she asked quietly, sounding choked.

  Tugdual’s eyes darkened.

  “You know that’s not true. I’m interested in everything about you. From the moment you walked into your gran’s apartment that autumn evening. You were wearing pyjamas and you had wet hair and bare feet. And you were in a total panic about the mark you’d just discovered on your stomach. And, if you want to know everything,” he added, raising his voice, “YES, I’m enthralled by the infinite power you represent. I know you’d like me to forget the Gracious inside you, but don’t you realize that I’ve never been fascinated by anyone the way I am by you and everything you are? You’re a Gracious and you want me to pretend that you’re not! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THAT?”

  Oksa gnawed her lip, taken aback by his words.

  “Why don’t you ask me what you’re dying to ask?” he growled, through gritted teeth.

  She was deeply moved by Tugdual’s tense voice, curt sentences and set jaw. In an agony of indecision, unable to talk, she looked up at him despairingly, then lowered her eyes. Tugdual lifted her chin with his index finger and gazed into her eyes.

  “Do you think I’d love you as much as I do if you weren’t a Gracious?” he insisted, enunciating every syllable slowly and clearly.

  His words made Oksa tremble. She didn’t feel ready to deal with the answer to this question, which plunged her into a state of nagging uncertainty. She instinctively took a step backwards, but nothing could stop Tugdual.

  “Well? What do you reckon?” he asked, with a cruelty that seemed to pain him too. “Would I be here, baring my soul like never before, if you were just an ordinary girl?”

  He fixed his cold, feverish gaze on her. Something emanated from him that was at once completely terrifying and mesmerizing. Oksa staggered. The sky darkened with a rumble of thunder, again mirroring her emotions.

  “You’re obsessed by the question, but you’re petrified of finding out the truth,” whispered Tugdual in her ear. “So, even though I’d love to go on keeping you in suspense, I won’t.”

  Without saying another word, he brought his lips down on hers.

  13

  AIR DISPLAYS

  “WE’VE JUST CROSSED THE FIFTY-SIXTH PARALLEL!” exclaimed the Tumble-Bawler after lunch. “We’ll soon pass the Isle of Mull, then the Treshnish Isles. After that, we just have to sail past Ardnamurchan Point and cross the fifty-seventh parallel to reach the Isle of Rum. Then we’ll be able to see the Island of t
he Felons.”

  This news lifted the passengers’ spirits, since the day had begun to drag terribly. Their journey would soon be over! The farther north the Sea Dog sailed, the more impatient they felt. Only Pavel and Abakum, who were busy piloting the ship, didn’t let their concentration waver. Perched on the Fairyman’s shoulder, the Tumble-Bawler proved to be just as accurate—and much chattier—than the ship’s instruments and nautical charts.

  “How much longer will it take?” asked Pavel, frowning anxiously.

  “Five hours,” replied the Tumble-Bawler, delighted to help. “We should be there before nightfall.”

  “Perfect,” remarked Pavel.

  A few of the Runaways were making the most of the break in the weather to enjoy a breath of fresh air and stretch their legs on deck, while some even took to the air and Vertiflew over the grey sea around the ship. To everyone’s amazement, Reminiscens suddenly shot into the sky with remarkable grace, her long hair floating behind her as she performed some jaw-dropping spins and turns. Brune and Dragomira lost no time in joining her and the three of them looked as though they were having a whale of a time.

  “Look at them go!” cried Oksa.

  “Incredible!” added Cameron at her side. “Absolutely incredible! When I think how we’ve had to keep this under wraps for years. Such a waste…”

  That was all it took for Oksa to shoot off from the deck in a fraction of a second, leaving Cameron staring open-mouthed. The Young Gracious soared into the sky to join Brune, who’d climbed above the clouds, then plummeted down in a nosedive, screaming at the top of her lungs. She stopped the right way up a few inches from the surface of the water, just as Leomido had taught her to do.

  “OKSA!” yelled Pavel from the wheelhouse. Abakum put his hand on his arm.

  “Don’t worry. Where’s the harm in it?” Pavel took a deep breath.

  “There’s always the risk of harm… What if another ship or a radar picked up those four idiots! We’d have the army on us like a shot and, quite frankly, we don’t have time for that.”

  Abakum’s face clouded over at this thought. Acting on Pavel’s words, the Tumble-Bawler shot into the sky and made a beeline for the Vertifliers, who were pirouetting between the crest of the waves and the lowest clouds. The small creature whispered a warning into Dragomira’s ear and she immediately summoned the four risk-takers. A few seconds later, they all landed on deck, applauded by the Runaways. Glancing over at her father in the wheelhouse, Oksa met his angry gaze and paled, knowing that she’d given him even more cause for concern. He shook his head angrily and she replied with a dazzling smile, which she hoped might calm him down.

  “Fantastic!” remarked Cameron, coming over. “You’re so talented!”

  “Um… no more than any other Runaway who can Vertifly,” replied Oksa.

  “Are you kidding? Not being funny or anything, but your three flying companions have had decades’ more experience than you. Just how long have you been Vertiflying?”

  “Er… a year.”

  “I repeat: you’re very talented!” said Cameron cheerfully.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Ask away!”

  “Can you Vertifly?”

  “I didn’t learn until late in life,” replied Cameron, “and I’ve never really had much opportunity to practise. For a long time, my father was reluctant to teach me and Galina. As soon as we were old enough to understand, when we were teenagers, he told us the secret of Edefia and what it meant for us. He’d decided on that course of action with all the descendants of the Fortensky family, for our own safety as much as anything. I’m sure it was the right thing to do, even though you can bet that it was really hard to accept at the time. You only have to look at the Knuts to see how much harm could be done by keeping quiet about the secret.”

  “You mean Tugdual?” asked Oksa eagerly.

  “Yes. He paid dearly for the Knuts’ decision to keep quiet about their origins. Revealing the secret so suddenly had serious consequences for the whole family, particularly Tugdual—it was like a bolt from the blue! You’d have to be incredibly strong to come to terms with something like that and Tugdual wasn’t at all prepared for it.”

  “Do you think anyone can really be prepared for something like that? Finding out is a terrible shock, whatever the circumstances.”

  Cameron stroked his chin dubiously.

  “You may be right… I remember I was worried sick for months that I might do something to give myself away to the Outsiders. Particularly as my father was almost obsessively afraid of that happening!”

  “That reminds me of someone,” remarked Oksa, glancing towards Pavel who was watching them from a distance.

  “Truth is, it wasn’t so dangerous once you knew. You were continually worried that someone might find you out, but as long as you were careful, there was no reason for anyone to realize we were… different.”

  “It sounds funny, you speaking about all this in the past tense,” remarked Oksa.

  “It is all in the past now,” said Cameron quietly, gazing at the sea churning around the ship. “Whatever happens now, our life on the Outside is over and done with.”

  Oksa stiffened. Cameron was right. A wave of sadness washed over her as her mind filled with images from the past fourteen years and she lost herself in her memories.

  “Are you OK, Oksa? Wake up!”

  She opened her eyes to see about ten people staring at her. She was lying in the hammock in the wheelhouse, which meant she must have passed out or something.

  “What happened?” she asked, sitting up.

  “You were chatting to Cameron and you fainted,” replied her father, his face ashen.

  Oksa frowned, remembering the images flashing past, her whole life condensed into a terrifyingly intense few seconds… wasn’t that what was supposed to happen when you were about to die? She shivered. The person she’d been no longer existed and yet her past life still formed an integral part of the person she was now. She could never turn her back on what she’d once been—it was as if she’d died while remaining alive! It was a confusing paradox.

  “Is that because of me?” she asked, glancing outside.

  Flashes of black lightning gleaming like onyx streaked through the overcast sky and torrential rain was battering the ocean and the ship.

  “Maybe,” admitted Tugdual, perched on a desk.

  “I really must learn to control that!” said Oksa crossly.

  “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, don’t worry. All in good time,” said Dragomira comfortingly.

  “You know, Oksa,” added Abakum, “your gran was responsible for an unusually stormy microclimate over our Siberian village for several years before she managed to master her emotions.”

  “Really?” asked Oksa in amazement.

  “Yes!” nodded Dragomira. “Take this Capacitor, Dushka, it’ll do you a power of good.”

  Oksa took the small silvery ball from her gran and swallowed it without question. A surge of energy spread through her body, rising like an invigorating sap and making her immediately feel stronger.

  “You’ll have to teach me that too,” she said quietly.

  “Will do!” agreed Dragomira.

  The storm, linked to Oksa’s state of mind, passed over in the next few minutes. The sky cleared and the clouds parted to reveal the setting sun, which blazed red as it seemed to plunge into the sea.

  “Ahem, ahem…”

  Dragomira’s Lunatrix had come over to the group and was trying to attract their attention by clearing his throat louder and louder. The old woman eventually noticed him and asked:

  “What’s the matter, Lunatrix?”

  “The Old Gracious and her travelling companions must receive the communication that the Island of the Felons, as it has been named by the Young Gracious, is experiencing visibility for eyes that are most perspicacious.”

  The Runaways turned to look at the horizon, narrowing their eyes. In the distance, a tiny
bump was silhouetted against the sky, stained red by the rays of the setting sun.

  14

  THE ISLAND OF THE FELONS

  PAVEL AND HIS INK DRAGON, ESCORTED BY NAFTALI AND Pierre, approached the Island of the Felons to the rhythmic sound of the creature’s powerful wingbeats. One hundred feet below, the waves were battering the dark rocks of the cliffs. An enormous full moon, mottled with shadows, cast a pallid light over the sea. The massive island was surrounded by sharp, fanglike reefs, rising from the seabed. A narrow inlet, where a ship almost as large as the Sea Dog was moored, seemed to provide the only safe access to the island. The Ink Dragon beat its wings more vigorously: Pavel wanted to fly over the island.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea!” said Naftali, flying closer to him.

  “Stay there!” retorted Pavel. “I’ll just take a quick look. Anyway, they know we’re here…”

  There was no arguing with that, so Naftali and Pierre landed on a large rock and waited.

  The first thing Pavel noticed when he soared over the high cliffs surrounding the island was the magnificent sandstone building in the middle of scrubby moorland, devoid of trees or bushes. The windswept house was exactly as the Tumble-Bawler had described it: a two-floor structure bisecting the island lengthwise. Fifty yards away, a small chapel perched on the edge of the cliff kept watch over the raging sea.

  The Ink Dragon flew closer to the house. Smoke was rising from the chimney and a faint light shone from several of the windows. Pavel’s heart was pounding and his body was incandescent with bitter rage. Marie was being held captive behind one of those windows… A low growl, originating in the fiery pit of the dragon’s stomach, rose into its throat and burst from its mouth in a threatening roar that seemed to shake the whole island. The intimidating creature circled the building several times, loudly beating its wings, then hovered a few yards from the front door. A motionless figure, whom Pavel would have recognized anywhere, appeared at the highest window of the turret that stood atop the house like a watchtower. Orthon stared in his direction. The fire inside Pavel burned higher and higher until he could bear it no longer. A long flame spurted from his throat, licking at the windowsill. Then the dragon turned and flew back to the ocean, with several measured wingbeats.