The Heart of Two Worlds

by Anne Plichota

  “I’m such a bad person,” she murmured, suddenly horrified by her own optimism.

  How could she be hopeful when things were so bad? Her mother probably wasn’t feeling so optimistic now, given her present situation. Her glass had to be completely empty… As if annoyed with herself for believing in the future, Oksa’s heart clenched painfully as she thought about Gus, the last time she’d seen Dragomira, the confusion Tugdual made her feel, and Zoe’s bleak prospects. Hope? Hope for what? Wasn’t it all… futile? Absurd? She felt trapped by her destiny, which resembled the ring of crumbling mountains around her.

  She gazed despairingly at the shimmering rocks stretching endlessly into the distance. At the intersection between two sheer corridors, she thought she glimpsed a familiar figure and immediately thought of Tugdual. A thousand new questions assailed her. Had he betrayed her? She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. Everything they’d shared since they’d met was too strong not to be real. She couldn’t have got it so wrong. But, as soon as Zoe had forced his hand, he’d taken off. He’d run away without a word or look. Had he felt that his behaviour was indefensible? Was it? She was desperate to know and understand. But, she realized, no amount of uncertainty could be worse than thinking that Tugdual might be lost, tormented and in danger. She loved him so much—even though she was longing to know the truth, she would wait until she heard his explanation before passing judgement. Patience wasn’t her strong point, but Tugdual was worth making an effort for. And if it turned out that he’d really betrayed her, well…

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Abakum, who was also finding life hard at the moment, could sense her agitation. Her lack of balance made it too precarious for her to turn round and see the reassurance in his eyes, so she simply put her hand on top of his and pressed her body against the dragon for warmth. The creature roared. A flame escaped from deep within its body and licked the glittering stone of the mountains, raising a swarm of insects hiding in the cracks and crevices—which only served to remind Oksa that life still existed, even in that loathsome guise.

  At the curve of a gorge, the dragon suddenly reared up and stopped, beating its wings to hover in the air and ward off falling stones, while Brune and Naftali circled. Opposite, on the sheer face of the highest mountain in the chain, a score of caverns had been hollowed out of the mountainside. A dense, shifting light spilt out of them, projecting a myriad multicoloured reflections onto the rock face of precious stone. In front of the largest cave, whose mouth was about thirteen feet high, they could make out a figure, who was easily recognizable as Andreas. Oksa and her escort were expected. A few people also appeared at the mouth of the other caves. Pavel swore; the Master of the Werewalls’ retinue hadn’t wasted any time and most of the core members were there. In a few seconds, the dragon and the Runaways were surrounded. Everyone seemed eager for the close encounter with the Diaphan.

  58

  ENCOUNTER WITH THE DIAPHAN

  HELPED BY NAFTALI AND ABAKUM, OKSA SHAKILY climbed down from the back of the dragon, annoyed at appearing so weak in front of all these Werewalls, who were watching her intently. Ocious’s loyal supporters were all there, some twenty men and women gathered around their Docent and his two sons, Andreas and Orthon. After the euphoric journey through the Peak Ridge mountains, the latter considered his half-brother’s presence there as a downright insult. His mood was also not improved by the fact that the Runaways had obviously guessed how he was feeling and made no bones about it showing it: Naftali favoured him with an ironic stare, while Abakum gazed at him with intolerable pity in his eyes. To pay the Runaways back for witnessing his disappointment, he grabbed Zoe by the shoulders and held her tight with a vengeful smile.

  Oksa was seeing her second cousin’s face for the first time since they’d left the Glass Column. Zoe looked surprisingly calm, almost serene, her features relaxed after her heartfelt revelations. How could she be so composed a few minutes before an awful procedure that would change her life for ever? Zoe looked at her and Oksa gave a start when she realized that Zoe was holding the talisman she’d given her a couple of weeks earlier, on the Island of the Felons. She wasn’t sure how to react in such an awful, and unprecedented, situation so, trusting to instinct, she gave Zoe a small smile of encouragement and support. Whatever happened, whatever she might have said or done, she was sacrificing an important part of herself to save Oksa’s life—to save the two worlds, in fact, since Oksa was the answer to all this chaos.

  “Well,” began Ocious. “Let’s not waste any time. Andreas, my son, thank you for taking charge so effectively and for getting everything ready.”

  Orthon tensed and concealed his annoyance by carefully examining the cave, following the example of the Runaways, who were amazed by their breathtaking surroundings. There was nothing antiquated about the place, which was a miracle of architecture with priceless stones studded over the harmonious curves and angles. Its high domed ceiling was tiled with countless translucent blue mosaic squares pierced by shining pinpricks of light that represented the heavens.

  “How wonderful,” Oksa couldn’t help murmuring.

  Waving his hand, Andreas pointed to the back of this first chamber, where there was a corridor.

  “Welcome to the territory of the Firmhands and to this cave in Mount Humongous, the ancestral seat of the Werewalls,” he said. “Let me take you to our host. He’s impatient to see us.”

  If this remark hadn’t been so cruel, the Runaways would have been struck by Andreas’s voice, which they’d barely heard before. Its captivatingly mellow, almost irresistible, timbre formed a marked contrast to his hard features and severe expression. Oksa shivered. If Orthon was like a ferocious raptor, swooping down on his prey, Andreas reminded her of a snake, mesmerizing its quarry before swallowing it whole.

  “I hate that man,” whispered Oksa to her father. “Promise you’ll never leave me alone with him.”

  “I promise,” declared Pavel.

  She took his hand and squeezed it tight, wondering which was stronger: the eagle or the snake. They were both probably as strong as each other, in their own separate ways.

  “Follow me, please,” continued Andreas.

  Manoeuvring with great determination, Orthon managed to enter the corridor first, holding Zoe firmly.

  “There’s no need to cling onto me as if I’m a prisoner likely to escape,” she remarked with surprising self-assurance. “I’m here by my own free will, remember?”

  True to himself, Orthon replied sarcastically:

  “If you’re as elusive as my dear sister, Reminiscens, I prefer to remain on my guard.”

  “With a brother like you, it’s hardly surprising anyone would want to run away!” exclaimed Oksa. “Or should I say, with brothers like you and Andreas…”

  Pavel squeezed her hand so hard she winced. But it felt so good to dent the Felon’s pride! From the glare he gave her before he began walking again—if looks could kill she’d be dead—she knew she’d hit home. The benefits of a good put-down! From now on, she intended to plague Orthon to death about Andreas.

  “Stop playing with fire, Oksa,” hissed Pavel.

  “But Dad!”

  “It might be tempting, but it’s more dangerous than you think, I can assure you.”

  Oksa’s face darkened. The Runaways always had to walk on eggshells—it was so frustrating! Angrily, she turned her attention to their magical surroundings: the corridor sloped gently down into the depths of Mount Humongous. Every so often it divided off into galleries identifiable by the colour of the stones covering their walls: ruby, emerald, blue topaz… The main gallery was glazed with pebbles whose fierce yet delicate brilliance suggested they might be diamonds. Andreas was walking at the head of the group, veering right, branching left, leaving the Runaways feeling confused and frightened. The den of the Werewalls was a dazzling labyrinth which provoked wonder and dread in equal measure.

  After they had walked through the endless corridors for abo
ut ten minutes, the light grew so strong that Oksa, Abakum and Pavel had to shade their eyes with their hands. Only the Firmhands seemed able to withstand the blinding radiance reflecting off the stones.

  “We must be here,” Abakum said to the Runaways. “These must be the special arrangements that Ocious mentioned.”

  Oksa looked at him quizzically. Then she remembered what Naftali had said a few months ago: the Diaphans—the fifth tribe—lived close to the territory of the Distant Reaches until the Ageless Ones cast a Confinement Spell on them for pursuing young people in the Love Hunt. Since then, the Diaphans had been confined in isolation to the hostile lands of Retinburn, unable to leave that incandescent region under pain of immediate death.

  The extremely strong light in that territory had kept them imprisoned there and, over the centuries, their metabolism had adapted, resulting in the features that Oksa could now see with her own eyes: the last hideous Diaphan of Edefia was standing right in front of her! Petrified, Oksa wanted to run as far away as possible from this monster and this nightmarish scene, but her strength had deserted her. A short distance away, Andreas was speaking smoothly, describing his father’s ingenuity in installing a complex lighting system to save the life of the last Diaphan. Instinctively Oksa knew she should do everything in her power to avoid meeting the creature’s eyes, but curiosity got the upper hand once again. Horror exerted a strange fascination.

  “Delighted to meet you, Young Gracious,” grated the Diaphan.

  The creature was much worse than anything she’d imagined from Naftali’s description. It was almost as tall as her and its translucent white skin shone with a thick covering of grease which protected it from the light. But what sickened Oksa most wasn’t its opaque eyes or its melted nose, or the absence of actual ears… it was the life below the skin, an excitement that she could not only hear with her heightened senses, but also see! Everything was on view: the veins pulsing with black blood, the organs throbbing and the dark heart beating frantically.

  “It’s… disgusting!” she said quietly, unable to tear her eyes away.

  “Come now, is that any way to talk to the creature that’s going to save your life?” said Ocious with a short laugh. “Pavel, my dear great-nephew, you haven’t brought your daughter up very well!”

  “My parents brought me up excellently!” snapped Oksa angrily. “And, to be honest, you’re hardly in a position to give any lessons, judging by your two psychopathic sons…”

  She ignored Pavel’s pleading glance.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m no stranger to that kind of reaction,” said the Diaphan in its horrible gravelly voice.

  It sidled so close to Oksa that she could smell its stale odour. A nauseating blend of dust, bad eggs and garlic. She forced herself not to look away from its bottomless gaze and, to her surprise, was unable to resist as she felt herself surrendering to its will. She couldn’t move in this confined space, while her limbs grew heavy and a sort of torpor invaded her mind. It was hot and stifling, she was tired and distressed, and so close to giving up, so close…

  “Bravo, Ocious, you’ve kept your promise, the Young Gracious is going to be very tasty indeed,” whispered the Diaphan, licking the edges of what remained of its mouth with a tiny black tongue. “So much passion in such a little heart!”

  At these words, Abakum and Pavel stood between Oksa and the creature. Ashen, her face shiny with sweat, Zoe stepped forward.

  “She isn’t the one intended for you,” she said breathlessly. “I am.”

  Oksa couldn’t help groaning. Intrigued, the Diaphan turned towards Zoe and studied her at length. When it realized it wasn’t going to be short-changed by her—far from it—it grunted with satisfaction. A few yards behind, Brune turned away to stifle a sob.

  “This can’t happen,” she murmured. “How can we let such a loathsome act take place?”

  Naftali squeezed her shoulder, unable to say anything. Like Abakum and Pavel, his eyes were brimming with tears. Zoe’s sacrifice broke their hearts. Only Ocious and his sons, as well as the more uncompromising Werewalls, seemed happy to countenance what was happening before their very eyes and showed no remorse. The Diaphan walked over to Zoe, its webbed feet moving across the ground with a sucking sound, and sniffed. Everyone could see its heart racing through its diaphanous skin. Zoe’s eyes widened; her pupils dilated, spreading a dark mist over her eyes as she was transported into another dimension, far from the real world. The Diaphan took hold of her hands and brought its vile features so close that it brushed Zoe’s expressionless face. Finally, it breathed in, at first slowly, then more and more greedily until it collapsed on the floor of the cave, drunk on stolen love, a tarry substance trickling from its flaring nostrils.

  59

  A DAMAGED HEART

  THE DARK HOURS THAT FOLLOWED THIS VILE ACT WERE followed by dark days, devoid of light. Oksa didn’t leave her room. She wandered from bed to sofa with vacant eyes, sometimes venturing out onto the balcony. The precious stirrings of hope she’d felt since she’d arrived in Edefia had been snuffed out when the Diaphan had seized Zoe’s innermost emotions. This was one tragedy too many. Her life had been saved by the vile Werewall Elixir which had overcome the poison in her system. She wasn’t going to die, but she no longer felt any enthusiasm for anything. Her head was dull and heavy and her heart was just a muscle beating mechanically without any spark of emotion—it had been damaged by too much suffering.

  She’d accidentally made herself feel worse when she’d finally unpacked. Right at the bottom of her backpack, she’d found her uniform tie amongst the sweaters and socks. She didn’t even remember putting it in… and that small strip of fabric took her back in time, exacerbating the pain. She’d hated wearing a tie at first, then she’d got so used to it that she hardly ever took it off. It had gradually come to symbolize her friendship group and had become a link to her friends, St Proximus, happier days, Gus… With a lump in her throat, she’d loosely knotted the tie round her neck, the way she used to wear it, and had thrown herself on her bed in tears.

  Concern was growing in the Glass Column. The Runaways had tried everything to rouse the Young Gracious from her worrying condition: potions, compounds, Capacitors… The creatures wouldn’t leave her side and vied with each other to find inventive ways of amusing her, or at least of making her smile. Despite looking dreadful after her ordeal, Zoe had visited Oksa’s room to reassure her, but couldn’t get her to perk up. Even the Nascentia proved ineffectual. The damage ran deep and all hope was gone.

  The Werewalls and Felons were just as worried, because Oksa’s depression had caused serious repercussions: the Cloak Chamber was still shut. Although a few days earlier it had seemed about to open, that now seemed doubtful. The seventh underground level had been plunged again in darkness, as it had been for nearly sixty years. At the same time Edefia was dying, the land was shaken by convulsions and the sky was shrouded in what looked likely to become everlasting night. Those who’d left loved ones on the Outside were finding it harder than the others, imagining the worst and knowing they were probably right. Oksa was aware of all these things. She felt guilty and was trying to snap out of it, but nothing made her feel any better.

  “The Young Gracious must not deplete her heart of the hopefulness that makes it beat,” the Lunatrix said one morning, stroking her hand.

  Oksa looked at him wordlessly. She could hear and understand, but nothing reached her any more. She felt numb.

  “Hope is the salt of life!” exclaimed the Getorix, its hair dishevelled.

  “You should never add too much salt,” broke in the Incompetent. “It’s bad for your blood pressure.”

  “SHUT UP, INCOMPETENT!” shouted all the creatures together.

  “Come on, Oksa, let’s go out for a while, you need some fresh air,” suggested Zoe, pulling her friend by the arm.

  Oksa didn’t resist. The penultimate floor of the Column was still under surveillance, but the two girls—like all the Runaways—
could now go wherever they wanted, accompanied by a swarm of Vigilians. They descended the Column in the glass lift, since Oksa was too abstracted to Vertifly, and strolled around what remained of the Gracious’s garden: sandy avenues lined with skeletal trees. Leaning on their balconies or pressed up against their windows, members of every clan watched the two figures walking slowly in the half-light. Although they looked vulnerable, everyone knew that their frail exterior hid great strength, waiting to rise again from its ashes, like the phoenix which had been circling above Thousandeye City for several days. Oksa was the only one who didn’t seem to realize and that was the problem. So, when a golden halo of light appeared in the murky sky, everyone looked more hopeful.

  “The Ageless Ones have come looking for you, Oksa,” murmured Zoe, releasing her hand. “They have something to show you…”