“Her WHAT?”
“Her Lunatrix, a sort of steward if you like. Dragomira has two Lunatrixes in her service, one male and one female. They do housework and all kinds of chores,” explained Pavel, with the hint of a smile.
“Cool! Where did you find them, Baba?” exclaimed Oksa, unable to take her eyes off the creature.
“It’s a long story, Dushka. Why don’t you come and sit by us?”
Oksa sat down beside her father on the red velvet sofa, opposite her gran and her guests. The Lunatrix came over and offered them something to drink. Full of curiosity, Oksa accepted the glass he held out, so she could take a closer look, although she didn’t dare to touch him.
“This creature is amazing! Is he an extra-terrestrial?”
“No, he isn’t,” replied her father.
“Did you bring him over from Russia then? Is he a creature from the steppes?”
“We do not draw our origins from extra-terra or the steppes, granddaughter of my Gracious, that belief is completely erroneous,” explained the Lunatrix, frantically shaking his large round head.
Dragomira paused for a few seconds before speaking. She looked at all her guests as if silently consulting them. They all lowered their eyelids as a sign of approval. Dragomira took a deep breath and continued:
“Dushka, my Lunatrixes don’t come from outer space or from Russia but, like all of us here, from a distant country. Your father, Tugdual and you were born here. On this Earth. However, the eldest among us were born in Edefia.”
“Edefia? I’ve never heard of it! Where is it?”
“Edefia is our country,” replied Dragomira, “a country located somewhere on Earth, although there is no record of it anywhere.”
“Wait, Baba… a parallel world? Is that what you mean?” exclaimed Oksa, amazed and fascinated.
Leomido and Abakum smiled. “Yes and no,” replied Dragomira, trying to find the right words. “It’s a land protected by a mantle of light which makes it invisible to Outsiders.”
“Outsiders?” Oksa immediately broke in.
“Outsiders, as opposed to Insiders, are people who live outside this land. Imagine Edefia as a sort of giant biosphere which no one can see.”
“Yes, I can imagine that. You can imagine anything,” breathed Oksa. “But believing it is a little harder.”
“That’s perfectly natural,” continued Dragomira, sympathetically. “You’re bound to need some time to take this in, but I’ll explain it to you as clearly as possible. Edefia has existed as long as the Earth, but it’s a land protected by a solar mantle which cannot be seen by Outsiders. Why? Our findings suggest that the light inside moves faster than ordinary light. In Edefia, the barrier is impenetrable but visible because our eyes have genetically adapted to the amazing speed of the light which lends it a colour that none of us have ever encountered Outside. An unknown colour.”
“How can there be an unknown colour?” repeated Oksa in amazement. “All the colours are supposed to exist, aren’t they?”
Dragomira didn’t reply and looked down, clearly unsettled by the story she’d just begun.
“But what you’re telling me is crazy, Baba! Totally crazy!” remarked Oksa, rubbing her hand across her forehead. “I hope you’re not winding me up…”
Everyone around her maintained a solemn silence, which allayed her doubts. Her father tightened his grip on her hand and Oksa turned to him.
“Dad?”
“Your gran is telling the truth,” said Pavel with difficulty. “Apart from Marie, who is a genuine Outsider and knows nothing of our origins, we all have a little of Edefia inside us. Even if some of us weren’t born there, we belong to that community which we decided to name the Runaways.”
“The Runaways?” asked Oksa in amazement.
“The Runaways are exiles from Edefia, darling. A name which perfectly sums up who we are, whether we like it or not, don’t you think?” asked her father bitterly. “It took me a while to accept the part of Edefia which exists within me. For years, I wanted to turn my back on my origins and I’m not even sure that I’ve managed to accept them now. For a long time, I refused to be different. But I had to face facts in the end: I was never like other boys, just as I’m not exactly like other men.”
“I’m not like everyone else either!” exclaimed Oksa.
All eyes turned to focus on her. Carried away by curiosity, she’d forgotten she’d promised herself to be discreet. She gnawed her lip, reproaching herself for her carelessness.
“Does that mean you are able to do some rather unusual things, Dushka?” asked Dragomira hastily.
“Er, rather unusual; yes, you could put it like that…”
She immediately rested her elbows on her knees and put her face between her hands, feeling breathless. They were all hanging on her every word, staring at her. Abakum gave her an encouraging look.
“Well, I can float above the ground, not very high but it’s amazing. I love it!” she began. “And I can move objects just by concentrating.”
“The Magnetus! Excellent!” exclaimed Dragomira.
“I can also throw little fireballs, but I don’t know how I do it, they just fly from the palm of my hand—”
She broke off, unsettled by such an enthralled audience.
“What else?” asked Pavel gently.
“I can also make hair stand on end at a distance,” she added, recalling her very first magic experiment.
Her eyes were shining with excitement, but the people who knew her better than anyone else in that room—her father and Dragomira—could see that she had mixed feelings. The two vertical lines between her eyes were the most obvious sign. Her conscience was being put to the test by countless memories. Should she tell them about McGraw? The Neanderthal? Although she longed to do so, her instinct screamed “NO! Don’t do that!”
“I’d really like to be told a bit more about Edefia now,” she said finally, in a firm voice to brush aside any remaining doubts.
Dragomira made herself comfortable in her armchair and took a long breath.
“Of course, darling girl, of course. To start with, I’d say that Edefia could be described as an immense solar-power station about the size of Ireland, divided into five regions. In our land, protected by the mantle and respected by the Insiders, animal, vegetable and human life could evolve abundantly and harmoniously in ideal conditions. Our civilization was founded on a sense of equilibrium which governed everyone’s way of life. Our people were split into four tribes, all of them different but interconnected: the Sylvabuls, the Firmhands, the Long-Gulches and the Ageless Fairies.”
“The Ageless Fairies?” broke in Oksa, her eyes open wide.
“Mysterious creatures, as you might imagine, very mysterious… The Ageless Ones lived on the Island of the Fairies, a region which was theirs alone. I lived in Thousandeye City, in the Glass Column, which was built on the exact spot marking the convergence of Edefia’s four cardinal points. This crystal residence was reserved for the Gracious and her family, and also the High Enclave.”
“What is the High Enclave?” asked Oksa, stopping her. “And the Gracious?”
“The High Enclave? Well, you could say it’s like our government. And as for the Gracious—”
“That’s what the extra-terrestrial… er… the Lunatrix called you!” exclaimed Oksa, glancing over at the little creature who was quietly sitting cross-legged against the double-bass case at the back of the room.
“The Gracious is the queen of Edefia,” continued Dragomira, gazing intently at her granddaughter. “She can draw on all types of power. She’s the only one who can communicate with the Ageless Fairies. She’s the one who works with them to protect the rainfall and the beneficial effects of the sun’s ultra-fertile rays, which make Edefia what it is. Or was: a land of plenty whose resources allowed us to live in harmony, equality and prosperity. The Gracious is the woman who protects and preserves our sense of equilibrium. She wields the fabulous power of light, heat and wate
r—the origin of all animal, mineral and vegetable life.”
Dragomira fell silent for a moment, her eyes unfocused and her nostrils quivering with each uneven breath. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about all this,” she said quietly.
No one in the room moved a muscle or said a word, out of respect for Baba Pollock. Oksa, awed by this atmosphere, looked in turn at each of the people involved in this strange reunion. Leomido and Abakum were like mirror images of each other with clasped hands resting on their laps and their troubled faces filled with nostalgia. Elegant Mercedica was shaking her head and scraping her red lacquered fingernails across the back of her right hand. But Pavel seemed to be the most deeply affected of all. He was sitting beside Oksa, so she could only see his solemn profile and the pulse beating rapidly at his temple. He was swallowing with difficulty, his features looked strained and he seemed to have a lump in his throat. Only enigmatic Tugdual seemed unaffected by what was going on around him. Still slumped in his armchair, he was concentrating on his iPod, which was emitting a rhythmical chirruping which drifted above the silence.
“So Baba… you’re a Gracious?” ventured Oksa, in a very small voice.
She felt her father stiffen beside her when Dragomira nodded. This silent, intense, endorsement had just sealed her family’s fate.
“You remember the mark on your stomach yesterday?” continued Dragomira in a voice choked with emotion.
“My bruise? Oh yes, I wanted to show you that!”
“I know, Dushka, I know. The bruise has disappeared, hasn’t it? And you now have a mark shaped like an eight-pointed star around your belly button,” added the elderly lady.
Oksa was amazed and instinctively put her hand on her stomach. She was eaten up with curiosity combined with an urgent feeling of anxiety. What did that mean?
“How do you know, Baba?”
“Because I had the same mark over fifty years ago. Like my mother and others before us, I felt honoured to receive it. But it disappeared when I became one of the Runaways. You’ve inherited it, Oksa.”
“What does that mean, Baba? What does that mean?”
Oksa’s voice was shaking and she was finding it hard to think straight because of her growing excitement and apprehension. Finding it hard to catch her breath and feeling tight-chested, she looked at her gran.
“Quite simply, the bearer of that mark is the next Gracious,” replied Dragomira breathlessly. “And that’s you, Oksa, you! YOU ARE EDEFIA’S FUTURE GRACIOUS! OUR LAST HOPE.”
16
THE SECRET-NEVER-TO-BE-TOLD
DRAGOMIRA HAD BROKEN OFF, CHEEKS FLUSHED AND tears welling, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said. The silence grew heavier. All eyes were on Oksa, who felt bewildered. Her head was spinning. She was a… queen? The queen of an invisible land inhabited by people with supernatural powers? It beggared belief; and yet the thought that all this might be true was intensely exhilarating. Her? Oksa? It was insane. Totally insane!
“But why are you here? What happened?” she asked breathlessly.
“We had to flee,” replied Dragomira, her large blue eyes shining with tears. “I had not long turned thirteen. My mother, Malorane, was the ruler at that time and I had been designated by the Mark as the next Gracious. I was supposed to begin my training soon…”
“What do you mean your training?” asked Oksa, interrupting her.
“You don’t just suddenly become a ruler, particularly at that age! You have to learn the ropes and the reigning Gracious is in charge of that: she rules until the new Gracious is ready. Apart from her many innate gifts, the most important thing for an apprentice Gracious to learn is self-control.”
Dragomira broke off and took her hand.
“You must also learn to channel and control your powers. At the moment, they’re all over the place—you have no idea how to use them or what their consequences might be. Like all Graciouses, you have to be initiated. In Edefia, this training begins with an official ceremony during which the future Gracious receives a Cloak. Made by the Fairies, it brings vast powers, the most important of which is the opening of Edefia’s Portal, which leads to the Outside. That is, or rather was, the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told. Unfortunately, though, my mother, Malorane, was very foolish. Her carelessness allowed someone to know the Secret when she was supposed to be its sole guardian. As soon as the Secret was revealed…”
Dragomira suddenly stopped, a lump in her throat. She seemed distressed by her resurfacing memories. Back bowed, features drawn and eyes brimming with tears, Baba Pollock rose heavily from her armchair, took down two large pictures from the wall and, with a wave of her hand, extinguished all the lights, plunging the room into darkness.
“What is she doing?” murmured Oksa in awe.
“Turn round and you’ll be able to watch what happened,” replied her father.
Dragomira went back to her seat and stared at the space she’d just cleared on the wall opposite her. As if Dragomira’s eyes were a projector, images as sharp as on a TV screen appeared. Oksa cried out.
“I don’t believe it! This is amazing!”
“Your gran has the gift of Camereye—she can project her memories or thoughts so that we can see them,” explained Leomido quietly.
“What I’m going to show you,” said Dragomira, in a voice choked with emotion, “is my most terrible memory, a memory which still haunts me. But watch, sweetheart, watch what happened…”
A huge circular room appeared on the wall, surrounded by translucent pillars covered with scarlet Virginia creepers. A dazzling light fell from the glass ceiling and filtered through the windows. At the centre of the room, a bowl laden with enormous fruit gleamed on a low table which seemed to be carved from a diamond. At the far end of this amazing room, they could see a tall woman standing in front of a riot of outsize plants and flowers. Her figure was regal and slender and her long black hair tumbled down her back. Suddenly they heard a loud noise and violent shouting. The projected image trembled then turned in all directions. Oksa realized she was seeing what had happened in Edefia through Dragomira’s eyes. This was a live broadcast of her gran’s memory!
The tall woman came rushing back into the centre of the room, her voluminous yellow dress floating around her, and went over to Dragomira.
“Mother, what is it? What’s happening?”
They now had a closer view of the tall woman who logically had to be the Gracious Malorane, Dragomira’s mother. Although very beautiful, she was also very pale and there was a look of panic in her eyes.
“Stay there, child, don’t be afraid!”
The door banged open and several men came storming in, shoving past anyone who futilely stood in their way.
“We’re here to see Malorane!” bellowed one of them, throwing a guard against the wall simply by stretching out his hand.
“OCIOUS!” cried Malorane.
A tall, thick-set man stood out from the group. He was wearing widely pleated baggy trousers and the upper part of his body was protected by some sort of light armour made of supple leather. The air of confidence and coldness in his eyes was unsettling. Malorane, visibly demoralized by the sudden appearance of these men, gave the young Dragomira a look filled with deep sadness, then walked over to the man who had just entered.
“Ocious, so it’s you—you, the First Servant of the High Enclave, who is at the head of this conspiracy! Traitor!”
“Why do you speak to me of betrayal?” thundered Ocious. “Don’t forget, Your Graciousness, that it was solely as a result of your carelessness that I learnt the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told!”
“My carelessness is one thing, certainly,” retorted Malorane. “But if you hadn’t used trickery to steal that secret, we wouldn’t be here. My biggest mistake was my foolishness, but the blind faith I willingly placed in you against the unanimous advice of the High Enclave coupled with your overweening ambition are also what has led to our ruin. Look what you’ve done!”
Casting out h
er arm, she indicated the balcony from where a restless din was coming.
“Your betrayal caused my Sovereign Hourglass to explode!” continued Malorane, even louder. “The impact was felt as far away as the borders of Edefia and we’re already beginning to see the consequences of your behaviour. But unfortunately I won’t be the only one to be punished. Have you seen how much the light has faded? And how the temperature has dropped? The people are in a panic. Never before has such a state of chaos occurred in the history of Edefia!”
“Yes! And you can pride yourself on being the cause of it, Your Graciousness,” hissed Ocious, glaring at the queen defiantly. “My purpose is not to bring about Edefia’s decline, quite the reverse. I want to make our land the centre of the world! I know you can open the Portal. I want to pass through it to the Outside!”
“NEVER! DO YOU HEAR ME?” yelled Malorane.
“Your stubbornness is clear proof of that fanatical selfishness and blindness which none of the Insiders will accept for much longer,” growled the man.
“None of the Insiders?” broke in Malorane, sounding irritated. “Have the courage to speak for yourself, Ocious! You’re the one who wants to leave, not the people! You’re the one who betrayed me, not the people!”
“Your Graciousness, you’re wrong, I’m far from being the only one,” snarled Ocious. “You’d be surprised to see who has joined my ranks. But today is a great day; you will open the Portal for me and my allies, either of your own free will or by force. You don’t have a choice.”
“Open the Portal for you? Of my own free will or by force? But Ocious, it can’t be done by free will. I know what you want to do on the Outside, because all you’re interested in is power. I didn’t want to accept it, I thought naïvely that everyone could change for the better and that it was unfair to make you take responsibility for mistakes made by your ancestors. Despite all opposition, I gave you a chance, which has cost me very dearly. Allowing you to leave would definitely put Edefia, and the Outside, in danger. Our powers were not given to us to subjugate people who don’t possess any: that is a principle we’ve always respected. Anyway, now that the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told is no longer a secret, who says that the Portal can still be opened? That power may have died when my hourglass exploded. Do you want me to tell you the oath I took in the Cloak Chamber, like all the other Graciouses before me?” asked Malorane with a glacial expression.
Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope Page 9