The Heart of Two Worlds

by Anne Plichota

  Ocious was listening intently, still as stone.

  “Why do you think we’re here?” repeated Abakum. “Why, Ocious?”

  There was a ripple of agitation among the Werewalls sitting on the rostrum. Only Orthon and his sons remained inscrutable. Too proud to ask him to continue, Ocious waited, keen to know more but determined not to have to ask. It was a woman a few seats away who broke the silence.

  “It’s useless trying to toy with us, Abakum,” she declared imperiously. “Spit it out!”

  “We had no choice but to come back,” said Abakum. “However, contrary to what your son would like you to believe, we’re here of our own free will. He didn’t bring us back to Edefia. We’d have come, with or without him. The Outside is dying and there’s very little time left.”

  Everyone was holding their breath.

  “So Orthon hasn’t told you anything?” continued Abakum, careful not to look at the Supreme Werewall’s son.

  Ocious gazed at him with narrowed eyes, then slowly turned to look at Orthon.

  “Is the Outside really dying?” he asked finally.

  “The Outside is in its death throes, Father,” said Orthon. “Like Edefia.”

  Ocious blanched, then suddenly banged his fist on the table. Everyone jumped and Oksa gripped her chair in the front row. Orthon was staring at her with a tight smile, causing Oksa to feel even worse—she knew what was coming next, it was inevitable.

  “The girl in front of you, Father, is the New Gracious you’ve spent nearly sixty years waiting for,” said the Felon, his voice resonant with renewed confidence. “There’s no doubt she could allow you to achieve what you’ve always wanted to do, what our ancestors have worked so hard to do for centuries: leave Edefia to conquer the Outside. However, since the two worlds are dying, leaving here will accomplish nothing.”

  Ocious gave a cry of anger. He could kiss his life’s ambition, the legacy of his powerful ancestors, goodbye—everything was collapsing around his ears like a house of cards. Orthon paused for a few seconds, delighted to be back in control.

  “Our dear friend Abakum has, however, provided part of the solution,” he continued, with obvious satisfaction.

  Ocious looked up, listening hard.

  “Why didn’t you have a choice, Abakum?” thundered Orthon. “WHY?”

  Abakum didn’t speak.

  “Because she is our only chance of surviving the catastrophe and of restoring equilibrium in Edefia and on the Outside!” declared Orthon, pointing at Oksa. “And despite what Abakum says, it’s because of me and only because of me that she’s here.”

  A scandalized buzz rose in the ranks of the Runaways, which didn’t appear to worry the Felon.

  “Do you know what her family called her when she was born?” continued Orthon. “The Last Hope. They had no idea of the significance of that nickname… but they couldn’t have chosen a better one, could they?”

  At these words Ocious’s face lit up with a malicious smile. The future was no longer bleak—it beckoned once again, full of the promise of bringing ancient schemes to fruition.

  “The Last Hope,” he murmured, his eyes glittering.

  He gave a ringing laugh which bounced off the room’s curved walls and struck despair into the hearts of the devastated Runaways.

  47

  THE SPURNED

  HIS BREATH COMING IN SHORT GASPS, GUS LOOKED OUT over the shimmering waters of Lake Gashun-nur, which reflected the dark mottled sky. He could still feel the pressure of his father’s firm grip on his hand. His parents had disappeared, yelling his name. Oksa, Dragomira, Abakum, Zoe… they’d all vanished. In the space of a few seconds, everyone had been sucked through the Portal by an invisible force. Everyone except the unfortunate native Outsiders.

  “What’s happened?” he croaked.

  He studied the surface of the lake, where the Runaways and Felons had vanished into thin air. He walked over to the water’s edge, attempting to look beyond the emptiness, beyond the invisible Portal which had shut him out, in the hope of seeing something, some sign, that might give him hope, but it was obvious that all hope had gone. Eleven of them had been refused entry to Edefia and were still in shock at being parted from their loved ones. Locked in misery, they sat on the sand, frozen in what seemed like dignified restraint—it had all happened so fast that they were lost for words. Only Kukka was sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Why is she still here?” wondered Gus in amazement. “Her parents are Insiders…”

  Suddenly Kukka sprang to her feet and rushed into the lake.

  “Please!” she yelled. “Whoever you are, let me in. I want my parents!”

  She was up to her waist in icy water when Andrew, the minister married to Galina, rushed in and prevented her from going deeper. Kukka wept and struggled, beside herself with terror and despair.

  “I want to be with them! Don’t try to stop me!”

  Andrew put his arms tightly around her and carried her out of the water.

  “All you’re likely to do is catch a nasty dose of pneumonia,” he said breathlessly, setting her down on the sand. “Don’t forget we’re only human. Which is why we’ve been left behind.”

  Gus sat down on the sand near Marie, who was staring blankly at the lake. He buried his head wearily in his hands.

  “It was obvious that we wouldn’t all get into Edefia,” whispered Marie, her hands clutching the armrests of her wheelchair. “It was such a slim hope…” Her voice cracked. Gus looked at her in agony. What was there to say?

  “Do you think… they’re OK?” he asked hesitantly. Marie looked away.

  “We can’t afford to doubt it,” broke in Andrew, coming over. “They’re strong, supportive and determined.”

  “Everything we’re not,” remarked Gus, taking stock of their unfortunate situation.

  There were as many Runaways as Felons in the ranks of the “Spurned” and they’d lost no time in gathering in their clans, even though they were all in the same boat. On one side were Gunnar and Brendan—the husbands of the twins Annikki and Vilma—with Sofia and Greta—the wife and daughter-in-law of Lukas, the mineralogist. Slightly farther away sat Marie, Gus, Andrew, Kukka, Virginia Fortensky, Cameron’s wife, and Akina Nishimura, Cockerell’s wife. Only Barbara McGraw didn’t appear to have chosen a camp. Sitting despondently with her arms around her knees, she looked like a doe terrorized by a pack of hunting dogs.

  Everyone was staring blankly at each other, registering very little. Gus studied the Spurned, one by one, as he struggled to control mounting feelings of panic. They looked a sorry sight and he was probably no better. They were just pathetic human beings. Pathetic human beings who’d shared their lives with a group of extraordinary people while being far from extraordinary themselves. However, despite being all too aware of their weaknesses, they’d grown accustomed to living close to magic and had become proud, loyal, steadfast Runaways. Life hadn’t exactly been restful—they’d experienced times of happiness and great danger, they’d been manhandled and sometimes separated, but even when he’d been Impictured, Gus had never felt as heavy-hearted as he did now. A definitive line had been crossed: the link between the two worlds had been broken. They were all exactly where they belonged.

  The waters of the lake churned as the ground was rocked by another earth tremor; then, to add insult to injury, a sudden icy downpour began pelting the Spurned.

  “Run for shelter!” shouted Andrew, seizing Marie’s wheelchair.

  They took cover from the raging storm in one of the two clapped-out buses. Barbara McGraw was the last to climb inside, soaked from head to foot. Virginia seemed to hesitate for a minute before making up her mind; rummaging around in her backpack, she held out a towel and a sweater to the frail wife of the much-hated Felon.

  “Thank you,” said Barbara softly.

  After a few minutes Gus got up from his seat, tense as a bowstring.

  “We have to do something!” he said forcefully, his shaking voice betraying his
anxiety. “We can’t stay here for ever.”

  “What if they come back for us?” said Kukka tremulously. “We should stay right here.”

  Andrew looked at her sadly.

  “It shouldn’t be any harder to leave Edefia than to get out of a painting, should it?” she shouted hysterically.

  “It took our friends over three months to be Disimpictured,” replied Andrew steadily. “So, even if there’s a chance they might come back from Edefia, we must remember that we’re in the middle of the desert. We could easily die of cold and hunger here.”

  “Andrew’s right,” said Marie, “we won’t survive long here.”

  “We won’t survive long anywhere!” cried Kukka angrily.

  “All the more reason to give ourselves a fighting chance, even though the odds are stacked against us,” insisted Gus.

  Since this conversation had started, he’d been trying to answer one crucial question: what would Oksa do in his shoes? It was hard to think about her, but it was also the only way that Gus could reason things out effectively. If Oksa were here, in this dire situation, she’d turn to him and, gazing steadily at him, she’d say: “C’mon, Gus! Use your head. Show us what you’re made of!” He’d taken what had proved to be some pretty sound decisions in the past—so why was this any different?

  “I think we should go home,” he said quietly, his cheeks on fire.

  “WHAT?” shouted a few of the Spurned in surprise.

  “What do you mean?” asked Virginia.

  “I mean that if our families did manage to get out of Edefia, then they’d look for us at home,” continued Gus. “That strikes me as the most sensible thing to do.”

  “What if our homes aren’t there any more? What will we do then?” asked Brendan.

  “We should stay together somewhere we think would be easy to find,” suggested Andrew.

  “That’s very subjective,” retorted Brendan, who seemed irritated by the minister’s suggestion.

  They all considered their prospects carefully. Outside, the rain wasn’t letting up. Night had fallen and their attempts to find a solution hadn’t allayed anyone’s fears.

  “I think you’re both right,” said Greta, Lukas’s daughter-in-law. “But the alliances we’ve forged make us enemies. We can’t travel together, our outlook is too different.”

  “Can’t we join forces like the Runaways and Felons must have done?” exclaimed Andrew.

  “Did they really, Andrew?” asked Greta, tossing back a thick mane of white-blonde hair.

  “It doesn’t matter whether they did or they didn’t!” retorted Andrew, his eyes shining. “Are we doomed to be the victims of ancient alliances? Do we have to be slaves to this endless clan war?”

  Greta sighed. “You’re a man of faith, Andrew. Your view of human nature is idealistic.”

  “You’re wrong, Greta. I’m far more clear-headed than you.”

  They both sat there scowling. Gus leant over to Marie and covered her with the fleece blanket that had slipped down from her shoulders during the discussion.

  “That’s a very good idea, Gus,” she murmured. “Let’s go home. And wait.”

  Gus looked at her in surprise. Wait? That word implied there was still hope… He was finding it hard to be hopeful about anything in that freezing-cold, dilapidated bus, stuck in the middle of the Gobi Desert as earthquakes shook the land. The only thing he could hope for right now was to find the strength to survive this chaos.

  48

  DIFFERENCES OF OPINION

  BY THE TIME THE SUN ROSE BEHIND THE HILLS IN THE east, Gus had made up his mind. Despite feeling depressed and disillusioned, he was unexpectedly determined to survive this nightmare. It had nothing to do with hope, it was just a burning desire to prove he was capable of shouldering responsibility. The one person he’d have liked to see this “new” Gus wasn’t there and the grief was choking him. He knew Oksa wasn’t far away, and yet she wasn’t just somewhere else: she was nowhere, by Outside criteria. Obviously, he’d miss his parents too, but he was sure they’d watch out for his friend the way they’d watched out for him over the past fourteen years, which had suddenly become sixteen, after Orthon’s evil conversion…

  In a spirit of acceptance, he wiped away the condensation forming long frosted trails down the bus window and examined his reflection. He still wasn’t completely used to his new appearance. His hair hung to his shoulders and his cheekbones were more prominent, which made him look more… enigmatic. Which was just as well. He hated being an open book to everyone.

  The terror of the day before, along with the grief and the unexpected shock, had turned to exhaustion and sleep had eventually claimed the Spurned, like a snake devouring its prey. At daybreak Gus had surfaced from a restless slumber and had sat there thinking. On the seat beside him, Marie turned over. It was so cold that her breath formed small puffs of icy vapour above her. Her face was ravaged by grief and disease and her body was shrivelled, like an autumn leaf. Her pain ran very deep and Gus was more aware than ever of the burden of his new role.

  “OKSA!” Marie suddenly shouted in her sleep.

  Several of the Spurned sat up in alarm. Gus shifted closer to his friend’s mother. She was tossing and turning in the grip of a bad dream. However, since their current circumstances were probably no better than the dream in which she appeared to be fighting someone, Gus decided not to wake her up.

  “Come over here, lad,” called Andrew softly.

  The minister, Virginia and Akina had gathered at the front of the bus. Kukka was a few seats away, her legs drawn up against her chest, looking distractedly at the window. Gus glanced furtively at her, but she gave no sign that she’d noticed him.

  “Are you OK, Gus?” asked Virginia. “Are you coping?”

  “This is by far the worst thing I’ve ever gone through,” he admitted, rubbing his arms, chilled to the bone.

  “Yours is the best suggestion,” announced Andrew, coming straight to the point. “We’re going to head back to London.”

  “Do you think we’ll get there?” asked Akina timidly.

  In her bright-pink padded jacket, the small Japanese woman with her lined face, framed by long jet-black hair, resembled a battered doll. Gus looked down, tormented by the same unanswerable question.

  “We’re going to try going back the way we came,” declared Andrew.

  “Such relentless logic!” commented Greta, Lukas’s daughter-in-law.

  “No one’s forcing you to do the same,” retorted Virginia Fortensky. “You’re all free to go where you want.”

  All the Spurned were now awake. When Marie tried to sit up, Barbara McGraw hurried over to help her, beating Gus and Andrew, then sat down in silence beside her.

  “May I come with you to London?” asked Akina, almost inaudibly.

  “It would be an honour,” nodded Andrew. “Gus? Marie? Virginia? You’ll join our party, won’t you?”

  All three nodded vigorously. The minister diffidently murmured his thanks and turned to Kukka, who was still miserably hunched in her corner, muffled up in a baggy beige wool jacket.

  “Kukka? I’m hoping you’ll come with us. However, even though you’re not yet an adult, you don’t have to do the same as us.”

  A shadow passed over Kukka’s face and she made herself even smaller on her seat.

  “I’ll go with you,” she muttered offhandedly.

  They all turned to look at the five Spurned who hadn’t yet spoken. Greta stepped forward and said bossily:

  “We’d rather stay here.”

  “But how will you survive?” cried Virginia. “It’s almost winter and there’s nothing to eat or drink. How long do you think you’ll last?”

  “We’re planning to find accommodation in the last inhabited village we passed, about nine miles back along the road that led us here,” said Gunnar, Annikki’s husband.

  “We’ll leave directions at the lakeside, so that those who went into Edefia can find us,” finished Greta confident
ly.

  “See, Greta, you’re a woman of faith too, in your own way,” remarked Andrew, with a penetrating look.

  “You’re mad,” said Gus softly. “What makes you think they’ll ever come back? You’re going to spend the rest of your life in this desert, clinging to false hopes.”

  Gus had never been much of an optimist, but he now felt like an out-and-out defeatist. The Spurned gazed at him, some annoyed by his words, others saddened.

  “If we don’t want to abandon hope, that’s nobody’s business but ours, is it?” asked Gunnar flatly.

  “No, it isn’t. But, personally, I’d rather abandon my illusions,” cried Gus, surprised by his own daring and his flat refusal to keep hoping. “This time, it’s a matter of life and death! And I don’t want to hold on to a fantasy that will never come true,” he added, his voice breaking suddenly.

  “Hope isn’t a fantasy, Gus,” objected Andrew, squeezing his shoulder. “But no one can blame you for feeling so angry.”

  “I’m not angry!” yelled Gus. “I’m just being sensible.”

  “Stop it!” suddenly wailed Kukka. “I can’t take it any more—you’re driving me mad!”

  And she burst into tears. Virginia sat down and put her arms around her, rocking her like a baby. Just as she would have done with her children, the three strong, loving boys she’d probably never see again. Virginia stifled a sob, her hot tears soaking into Kukka’s hair.