“You’d like us to think you miss Leomido, would you?” she raged. “Why have you ruined so many lives? How many people have you killed, Orthon? How many? Do you even know?”
The Felon scornfully tilted his head to one side.
“Oh come on, you know very well that every battle involves losses! Collateral damage, so to speak…”
“And which battle are you talking about exactly?” roared Reminiscens, her hands on her hips. “You mean the petty battle you started to satisfy your pathetic excuse for an ego?”
“How dare you!” yelled Orthon.
His eyes gave off tiny sparks, which crackled ominously.
“You plotted to Impicture me for ever because you were worried I’d thwart your plans,” continued Reminiscens. “You killed my son and his wife! YOU KILLED THEM JUST BECAUSE THEY STOOD IN YOUR WAY!”
Shaking with cold fury, she took out her Granok-Shooter. Orthon didn’t move.
“You’re no match for me,” he hissed. “You can hurt or injure me, but you can’t kill me.”
“Not you, no,” replied Reminiscens, white with rage. “But I can kill him!”
Saying that, she fired an Arborescens Granok at Mortimer, Orthon’s youngest son. Immediately, everyone abandoned their efforts to maintain some semblance of peace. The Runaways’ hearts were overflowing with too much anger and resentment to hold back, while the Felons were too blinded by pride and dreams of glory. The Abominari was the first to attack:
“I spit in your face, you wretched old rat!” it ranted, frothing with rage. “I’ll tear your body limb from limb and throw the pieces into the sea for the crabs to feast on!”
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Dragomira, firing a Granok which sealed the creature’s mouth.
“Did someone mention spitting?” broke in the Incompetent.
Seizing her opportunity, Oksa bent down and whispered in the lethargic Incompetent’s ear. The next moment, the silenced Abominari, which had been rushing at Dragomira with its claws out, had skidded to a halt, astonished at the pain caused by the Incompetent’s lethal spittle. Its skin blackened where it had been hit, giving off a stinking, acrid smoke, and the creature fell to the floor. Oksa rubbed her hands gleefully.
“Good job too!” she muttered.
The battle continued to rage in complete chaos. Orthon had decided to attack the Fairyman, his lifelong enemy.
“LOOK OUT, ABAKUM!” yelled Oksa, ever watchful.
Pavel burst into the room just as she was about to launch herself at Orthon, using her body as a cannonball.
“Don’t you dare!” ordered her father.
“But Dad—”
“STAY HERE AND DON’T MOVE!” he shouted, dragging her behind a huge sofa.
“What about Mum… did you find her?”
“She’s safe in the chapel. Stay here!”
A feeling of indescribable relief washed over Oksa, despite the fraught situation. The Fairyman was dodging countless Granoks, while brandishing the wand he’d inherited from his mother, the Ageless Fairy. A virtually invisible shield appeared over and in front of the Runaways, rendering the Felons’ Granoks as harmless as grains of wheat. Exploiting the element of surprise, Pavel launched himself at the wall and began running round the room with remarkable agility. Gregor and Lukas fired lightning bolts at him from their fingertips, but Pavel was too fast. He circled the room once more and, taking a run-up from the back of the room, literally flew at Orthon. With his shins clamped around the Felon’s neck in a stranglehold, he began rotating horizontally, causing Orthon to spin uncontrollably. They were so tightly locked together as they whirled in mid-air that no one dared to step in for fear of injuring their own man. Agafon decided it was worth taking the chance, though, and shouted “Orthon! Tornaphyllon!” in warning.
As soon as the Granok hit the pair, Orthon shot away with all his strength to escape the centrifugal effect of the Tornaphyllon. He landed on his feet, glaring defiantly at the Runaways, who could do nothing to help Pavel, who was caught in the vortex created by the Granok. Oksa wrung her hands, horrified at her father’s predicament. She glanced desperately at Tugdual, but he was battling with Catarina who was trying to fire Fireballisticos at the Runaways. The room was filled with duels, battles and hand-to-hand combat. Oksa swallowed one of her Ventosa Capacitors and leapt towards the ceiling.
“YA-HAAAA!” she yelled.
The capsule worked its magic and her hands stuck to the ceiling as if held by magnets. She crawled closer to the fierce whirlwind, holding on to the smooth surface with all her might to avoid being swept away. The hungry vortex sucked at her hair and clothes, pulling them horizontally towards it. She unknotted her scarf, which was beginning to strangle her, and watched it disappear.
“Careful, Oksa!” shouted Tugdual, dodging a fresh volley of Granoks fired by Gregor.
Despite the danger, Oksa didn’t hesitate. She plunged her arms into the tornado and freed her father by yanking him towards her. They both dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
“Ouch!” groaned Oksa, hunched over.
She might be the Gracious, but she was still human—as her body was reminding her.
“You should have listened to me!” scolded Pavel. “That was a stupid risk to take.”
She looked at him, disconcerted. What had he expected her to do? Wait patiently for him to die? Her breathing quickened and her eyes darkened.
“Come now, dear nephew, your daughter simply has a highly developed sense of self-sacrifice.”
Oksa stiffened: Orthon had just put his foot on her sore shoulder, the most painful part of her body. Mercilessly, he pressed harder and harder, staring at Pavel challengingly. Then, suddenly, he grabbed Pavel’s throat and pushed Oksa down with his foot. She found herself flat on her back, her ribcage crushed by the Felon’s heavy foot. Her eyes opened wide as she struggled to breathe. Above her, Orthon was squeezing Pavel’s throat, while repelling attacks from Tugdual and Dragomira. “He’s unbeatable,” thought Oksa miserably. “We’re all going to die!” She tried to mobilize her Identego, which she could feel trembling deep inside her. What was it waiting for? Why didn’t it reduce Orthon to mincemeat? How did it work? Argh, she felt so helpless…
“ORTHON!” Reminiscens’ voice rang out suddenly. “THAT’S ENOUGH!”
They all turned to look at her. She was holding up her Granok-Shooter. A slender filament of Arborescens led from its tip to Mortimer’s body. She jerked it through the air as if cracking a whip and a tightly bound Mortimer was lifted from the ground and tossed in all directions. He screamed in pain and fear, unable to stop himself from smacking against the ceiling, walls and floor.
“Let them go!” Reminiscens icily ordered Orthon.
Orthon looked unimpressed.
“Are you sure you really want to go through with this?” challenged Reminiscens. “Are you really prepared to sacrifice your own flesh and blood, when family ties are so important to you?”
She shook her Granok-Shooter even harder and Mortimer screamed more loudly. Orthon blanched as Gregor clenched his fists, beside himself with rage. Behind the Runaways, Zoe was crying quietly. The atmosphere was unbearable. Neither Reminiscens nor Orthon seemed prepared to back down and this battle could easily go on for hours. Mortimer’s screams were subsiding as he gradually lost consciousness.
“You wouldn’t dare,” said Orthon quietly, his voice quivering with fury.
“Are you sure?” replied Reminiscens, swinging her Granok-Shooter down towards the floor so hard that Mortimer’s body bounced like a ball. “Perhaps I should take a leaf out of your book, dear brother… perhaps I shouldn’t think twice about killing your son like you killed mine.”
“Stop it!” said Orthon, ashen-faced.
He gave Pavel a violent shove, sending him crashing to the floor. Then he kicked Oksa away. She jumped to her feet and stood up straight, even though it hurt her to do so. But this was no longer a battle between clans. Reminiscens and Orthon were in a world of their ow
n, bent on settling scores, oblivious to anything else.
“You know very well your son and his wife died in a plane crash,” continued Orthon.
“A plane crash you engineered! Please don’t demean yourself by playing this game. You destroyed my life by killing my son and, although I very much doubt it will hurt you as much as you hurt me, I’m going to kill yours! Do you hear me? I’M GOING TO KILL MORTIMER!”
A shudder ran through the assembled Felons and Runaways. Reminiscens looked so resolute, so pitiless… The Runaways realized that the frail, gentle old woman who’d wandered for months inside the painting and who’d become their staunchest ally was also the fiercest and most self-sufficient of them all. At that moment, Reminiscens’ desire for revenge was blinding her to everything, including the rules by which the Runaways lived. The Felons, on the other hand, were seeing her as a worthy twin sister of their leader and none of them doubted she’d use her powers to do as much damage as possible with maximum cruelty. She looked unshakeable in her determination and even Orthon seemed convinced: the murderous gleam in Reminiscens’ eyes left no room for doubt—or hope. She raised her arm again to deliver what would probably be the death blow when Zoe cried out despairingly:
“GRAN, PLEASE DON’T KILL HIM!” Reminiscens seemed to hesitate for a second. Struggling for breath, Oksa gazed at Zoe. Mortimer had been like a brother to her grief-stricken cousin for months and she could never forget the sincere affection he’d shown her. Zoe wrung her hands, unable to stop the choking tears from erupting.
“Don’t kill, Mortimer,” she sobbed. “Haven’t enough people died already?”
“I’m begging you!” broke in a weeping woman, appearing from the back of the room where she’d been keeping out of the way. “Please spare my son. Killing him might avenge the deaths of your loved ones, but nothing will bring them back.”
This was too much for Zoe, who hadn’t seen her great-aunt Barbara since she’d left the McGraws’ house on that awful day in April when her life had been turned upside down—again. Zoe gave a wail which made Reminiscens flinch and then collapsed, her face in her hands.
“Listen to them!” murmured Abakum, his eyes imploring her.
But grief was stronger than reason and, with a raging yet heart-rending sob, Reminiscens brought her arm down with a destructive resolve that nothing and no one could stop.
19
A SLOW RETURN TO REASON
THERE WAS A SUDDEN CRASH AND EVERYONE WAS DEAFENED and blinded by the shining gold blaze that had appeared in the middle of the room. Instinctively, they put their forearms over their eyes to shield them from the dazzling light.
“The Ageless Ones!” exclaimed Oksa, filled with wonder and relief.
Orthon tensed, wide-eyed, staring at the golden halo of light forming between the Runaways and the Felons. Oksa watched him, surprised by his amazement. “Of course!” she thought. “He’s never seen them before.” A figure appeared in the light, swaying with hypnotic slowness, her long hair floating behind her like seaweed at the bottom of the sea. She hovered a couple of feet above the floor and gazed long and hard at the two groups confronting each other. None of them moved, sure that this strange occurrence would somehow be decisive for their future. The figure floated closer to Oksa, causing Orthon to take a step back.
“My respects, Young Gracious.”
The Felons stared at Oksa in awed silence at those words, uttered in a bewitching, crystalline voice. Awed, they lowered their Granok-Shooters and focused on the Ageless One who’d greeted Oksa with a deference none of them had yet shown her.
“The time for unity has come,” the Ageless Fairy announced. “Edefia, the World’s Heart, is dying.”
“What about Ocious?” interrupted Agafon, as Orthon looked on, his face unreadable.
“Ocious has done quite enough,” replied the Ageless One curtly. “He and Malorane share the blame for the Great Chaos, which has led to the annihilation of the two worlds. It’s up to all of you to act now. If you don’t, it’s the end of everything.”
“What do we have to do?” cried Oksa.
“Find the strength to combine your powers,” replied the Ageless One.
Runaways and Felons glared at each other sceptically.
“Nothing can ever bring us back together,” objected Pavel.
“If you don’t join forces, the two worlds cannot survive.”
There was a heavy silence, followed by a clamour of voices in both camps.
“We can’t combine forces!”
“It’s preposterous!”
“Out of the question!”
“Perhaps things aren’t as serious as they say,” rang out Mercedica’s voice.
The din was interrupted by a sudden crackle: the glowing aura around the Ageless One visibly darkened and showed cataclysmic images from all over the world. The room was filled with the sound of reporters speaking different languages, as if countless television sets had been switched on. They listened to the news reports, even though the images were enough to show the scale of the disaster on the Outside. Volcanoes were erupting one after the other, quakes were shaking the earth, tidal waves were submerging the coastline, torrential rain was flooding the land and fires were raging through cities and forests. Everywhere endless queues of people were frantically trying to escape with a strength born of hope, but it was futile because everywhere was in chaos.
“The two worlds are dying faster than any of us could have predicted,” announced the Ageless One. “The equilibrium of the World’s Heart, protected by the Cloak Chamber, suffered irreparable damage from the revelation of the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told. Afterwards, order was maintained after a fashion, but we’re now slipping towards chaos. The wounds are deep indeed, but equilibrium may yet be restored. This recovery will entail joining forces and making compromises and sacrifices which may seem intolerable but which are essential. The future of the two worlds depends on you. ALL OF YOU.”
She suddenly turned to Dragomira and wreathed her in golden coils.
“The Portal will soon appear,” she declared, in a whisper that only those nearest to her could overhear. “Your Lunatrix will guide you because he is the Guardian of the Definitive Landmark. Be ready, Dragomira, because you are and remain a Gracious and, as such, you hold within your heart a fragment of the declining equilibrium.”
The coils of light surrounding Dragomira continued to murmur, although she appeared to be the only one who could understand what they were saying now, then the golden light winked out, taking the figure with it.
The Felons and Runaways were left feeling equally stunned and dismayed. Supported by Abakum and Pavel, Dragomira was white. She looked devastated and tears welled in her large blue eyes.
“I think it’s time we talked…” she croaked.
She sank down onto the nearest chair and the members of both groups hastily followed suit. Reminiscens kept her precious Granok-Shooter in her hand, still attached to Mortimer’s motionless body on the floor. Reluctantly, Orthon also sat down.
“We have to face facts,” began Dragomira. “Our differences are irreconcilable, but we need each other to restore the equilibrium. If we don’t, then we’ll all die, on the Outside and on the Inside. Is that what we want?”
There was an overwhelming silence. Everyone felt the same, despite their personal ambitions.
“Orthon, we each possess part of the answer that will allow us to enter Edefia. You have my mother’s medallion.”
“Our mother’s medallion,” corrected the Felon.
“Yes, that’s right,” continued Dragomira, narrowing her eyes. “You have our mother’s medallion with the incantation that will allow us to open the Portal. The Portal is somewhere out there in the world, but no one knows exactly where. My loyal Lunatrix, the Guardian of the Definitive Landmark, is the only one who can tell us. So you have the key, but you don’t know where the Portal is. I can find out the location of the Portal, but I don’t have the key.”
Orthon fr
owned, deep in thought. He seemed to be finding it harder and harder to decide as the seconds slowly ticked by—which some people found infuriating…
“Why don’t you tell your friends why you’re so desperate to return to Edefia?” said Reminiscens suddenly. “You who follow him so blindly, do you actually know?”
“No, Reminiscens,” pleaded Abakum quietly. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you.”
The Fairyman seemed worried about the possible outcome of this conversation. The matters raised by Reminiscens were so serious and so private… Orthon’s face tensed and a vicious, murderous gleam appeared in his eyes. The Felon seemed to be struggling not to destroy everything around him.
“You’re hoping our father will love you at last, aren’t you?” continued Reminiscens caustically. “Have you lost your mind? He’s never loved anybody but himself. Himself and power. And what you’ve become won’t change anything. You’ve done it all for nothing, poor Orthon!”
“Stop it, Reminiscens!” ordered Abakum, with a surprising air of authority. “This isn’t the time,” he added more quietly. “The reasons our enemies are doing what they are doing don’t matter. What’s important now is to join forces. We’re running out of time.”
The Heart of Two Worlds Page 10