Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

  “Okay, okay,” conceded Gus, still staring out of the window. “But it doesn’t alter the fact that you’re a queen, a sorceress and someone totally exceptional. And I’m a complete zero. I’m not jealous, Oksa, I just feel totally pathetic.”

  “Oh yeah? And being a queen’s best friend doesn’t count for anything at all, is that it? You really do take the biscuit!” replied Oksa, tugging a strand of Gus’s long black hair. “Do you really think that someone of my calibre would waste her time on a total loser? Really?”

  She pulled a face at him, careful not to let him see how deeply his words had affected her. Gus gave the ghost of a smile.

  “I’d give anything to be like you, though.”

  “No way, Gus, no way. You’re fine just as you are, believe me,” murmured Oksa, blushing to the roots of her hair.

  And the two friends sat there quietly, side by side, as darkness filled the living room. The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started and the only sound was the gentle snoring of the little Lunatrix still asleep on Gus’s lap and Leomido’s faint voice as he chatted with the Lunatrixes, who were slaving over the stove. As for Dragomira, leaning against the door of the living room, she was watching the two youngsters, whom she could only see from the back. She’d been deeply moved by the conversation she’d just overheard. She wiped away a tear and tiptoed off to join Leomido in the kitchen.

  40

  DISAPPEARANCE ON THE MOOR

  WHEN OKSA WOKE, SHE COULD HEAR RAIN BEATING steadily against the windows. A chilly light was filtering through the curtains and it felt as though the morning was well advanced. Tangled up in her sheets, Oksa was drenched with sweat. She extricated herself somehow and, as she’d done the morning before, rushed into Gus’s room. He was still asleep—or pretending to be—his breathing shallow and half his face hidden by a strand of hair. As she looked at him, Oksa caught herself noticing his perfectly regular features. He looked just like one of the enigmatic heroes in the manga that she read by the dozen. Gus. Her friend Gus. Suddenly, he threw his thick eiderdown to the other end of the room and leapt up giving a loud yell. Surprised and embarrassed, Oksa screamed.

  “Were you spying on me?”

  Oksa pulled a face, before replacing the eiderdown on the bed. With no more than a glance, naturally.

  “Show-off,” said Gus, smiling.

  They were interrupted by three taps at the door.

  Opening it, Oksa found herself face to face with Leomido’s Lunatrixa, wearing a chef’s hat and an apple-green apron.

  “Young Gracious and her young friend, the clock is about to strike ten times in our ears, that is the information which all stomachs await! But rest assured! The Lunatrixes are able to foresee this type of inconvenience and have prepared saucepans of food which will lick your chops.”

  “You mean we should come down and eat, is that it?” asked Oksa, bending over to be on a level with the creature.

  “That is a statement of perfect accuracy, Young Gracious!”

  “Where are Dragomira and Leomido?”

  “Oh, Young Gracious! How may I give you an answer without falling into a risk?”

  “A risk? What risk?”

  “A risk for me to deliver information which I should shroud in secrecy,” replied the Lunatrixa, looked around in panic and twisting her long arms.

  “Tell us, Lunatrixa, please. We won’t say anything, you can count on us, honestly!”

  Gus came over and knelt down next to Oksa in front of the creature.

  “Well, now I have the difficulty of presenting the Young Gracious with a refusal…”

  The Lunatrixa took a deep breath then continued in a low voice:

  “An intruder took nocturnal liberties.”

  “An intruder?”

  “Yes, Young Gracious, an intruder walked round the residence of our Master! His large feet imprinted marks on the soil of the vegetable plot and the cemetery. And his curiosity at the window created disturbances for the Goranovs, which have collapsed in a terrible panic attack. Another problem has been identified in addition: the abominable Abominari has engineered a disappearance.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” asked Oksa. “It has escaped?”

  “Most certainly, it is no longer in our vicinity! Bah! The disappearance is not regretted because the companion was hateful. But the Master’s anxiety has registered an increase. He has made some explorations but detection is negative. He has the concern that the Abominari has roamed and the thought full of hope that the hiding place is still on the estate and that the empty stomach of the ungrateful creature will cause its return. With regard to the tracks around the abode, my ear has heard the words entrusted to the Old Gracious: the opinion of the Master tends towards a prowler and, this night, some Tumble-Bawlers will make the alarm if he pokes the tip of his nose in here.”

  “Tumble-Bawlers?” asked Oksa.

  “Tumble-Bawlers give mighty shouts to warn the Master,” explained the Lunatrixa. “Then the Master motivates the intruder into flight.”

  “I’d be interested in seeing that,” said Gus.

  “So would I! Anyway, I hope it isn’t anything serious,” said Oksa. “Lunatrixa, we’ll be right with you, if you don’t mind giving us a few minutes to make ourselves presentable.”

  Five minutes later, after promising the Lunatrixa for the umpteenth time that they wouldn’t breathe a word about the information she had given them, Gus and Oksa walked down the stately staircase of dark wood. Hearing music, they immediately headed for the living room where Leomido was sitting at a massive grand piano which took up a large part of the room. He was playing a beautiful piece with a slow, haunting melody. In front of him, a couple of inches from the black and white keys, the two Goranovs were swaying their leaves in time to the music with great conviction. Suddenly the pace speeded up and the hyper-sensitive plants fervently straightened their leaves. Then the cadence slowed and they resumed their gentle rocking.

  “Come over here, youngsters,” invited Leomido softly. “The Goranovs are extremely nervous this morning and, when they’re in this state, Chopin is the only thing that can calm them down.”

  Gus and Oksa glanced at each other, trying not to laugh. Leomido was also looking somewhat amused at their surprise and at the sight of the two plants, which were humming—or rather moaning—their stem and stalks trembling.

  “Oh… life, life!” they sighed. “A constant torment.”

  The two friends leant their elbows on the piano and enjoyed the short recital. Gus was fascinated by Leomido’s talent. His eyes riveted on the elderly man’s hands, he felt bewitched by the music, like the Goranovs, which gradually sank into a deep and comforting torpor. Their leaves trembled less and less and soon steadied to become perfectly still.

  “You must be starving,” whispered Leomido, gently closing the piano. “Dragomira is waiting for us in the kitchen. Let’s go.”

  “I propose a lighter schedule for today. You will have noticed that the weather is offering you its local speciality,” said Leomido, indicating the window, against which the rain was pattering. “So, no outside activities. We’ll just go over a few things inside, in the warm. Anyway, my dear, you look a little tired and I know a certain Pavel Pollock, who will curse me to the end of my days if I hand back his daughter with even a hint of dark circles under her eyes.”

  Hearing this, Dragomira almost choked—to the great alarm of her Lunatrixes, who raced to her aid, wailing:

  “Oohh! Our Old Gracious, is your food nauseous? Oohh, your disgust is our regret…”

  “No, my Lunatrixes, everything is as delicious as usual,” spluttered Dragomira, gently patting their heads. “It’s just Leomido making me laugh. You’re not implying that my son has a tendency to overreact, are you, dear brother?”

  “No more than you or your Lunatrixes, dear sister,” retorted Leomido with a chuckle.

  “Your family is a bunch of nutters!” chortled Gus, glancing merrily at Oksa.

  Th
e day was largely spent in the refectory of the former monastery. There, the Young Gracious spent ages polishing her Magnetus, moving increasingly large and heavy objects, like the volumes of an encyclopaedia, pot plants and even a bike. As for Gus, while watching his friend out of the corner of his eye, he struck up a friendship with some of the creatures, particularly the Squoracles, to whom he described a trip he’d made to Australia with his parents, providing details about the climate and opening up new horizons for the tiny creatures, which felt the cold so keenly.

  “Those atmospheric conditions would be ideal for us!” they said enthusiastically. “Why is our Master so determined to live in the northern hemisphere when the southern hemisphere is so welcoming? The Australian desert is just as sparsely populated as the Welsh moors, if that’s what he’s looking for. Oh, young friend of our Young Gracious, tell us more about the desert and those idyllic temperatures.”

  Oksa allowed herself a short break when her thoughts strayed to the Granok-Shooter which she hadn’t yet used. She raced up to her room to fetch it and began examining it with Gus.

  “It doesn’t work!” she exclaimed, seeing Leomido and Dragomira approaching.

  “Of course it doesn’t, Dushka. And all your attempts will come to nothing while your Granok-Shooter remains empty,” announced Dragomira.

  She looked at the two friends, hesitated for a second then said:

  “Do you want a small demonstration?”

  They nodded eagerly. Dragomira took her own Granok-Shooter from the folds of her capacious dress and said in a low voice:

  “Reticulata!”

  Then she blew gently into the tube, causing a sort of gelatinous bubble, like a jellyfish, to swell from the end.

  “Look,” she suggested, beckoning the children over to the window.

  Gus and Oksa rushed over and saw with amazement that everything in their field of vision had been made a hundred times larger by the Reticulata, from the delicate blooms of the heather to the tiniest ant threading its way between the blades of grass.

  “Wow, amazing!” cried Oksa.

  Dragomira swung the large bubble round to bear on the Lunatrix. This time, the two friends could examine the smallest details of the creature’s skin as if it were under a magnifying glass—they could see each pore, each downy hair and each small wrinkle in close-up.

  “Do you want to try?” asked Dragomira, seeing Oksa’s enthusiasm.

  “Can I? Really?”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll give you a few Granoks, my dear. But from the moment they are inserted into your Granok-Shooter, you must remember that you’re the only one who can use them,” explained Dragomira, darting a look filled with kindness at Gus.

  “Don’t worry,” said Gus in a resigned voice. “I am and will always be the loyal assistant of her Young Gracious, which isn’t so bad after all,” he added, looking down.

  “Oh, I think you’re much more than that,” replied Dragomira, looking at him shrewdly.

  Then, moving her Granok-Shooter near to Oksa’s one, she summoned a Reticulata which dropped into the palm of her hand and was immediately sucked up by the girl’s instrument.

  “Here’s your first Granok, Oksa. If you want to activate it, you must say this little rhyme:

  By the power of the Granoks

  Think outside the box

  Reticulata, Reticulata

  Things far away look larger.

  Oksa repeated obediently.

  “When you want to use it, you just have to say its name, either in a low voice or inside your head. I’d say the second solution is the best, particularly when it’s an emergency or you’re defending yourself. Saying the name out loud gives your adversary a valuable clue, which will enable him to defend himself. For this attempt, it won’t be hard, particularly as the Reticulata is a simple tool which doesn’t belong to the category of offensive or defensive Granoks. But imagine you have ten or twenty different Granoks: you must remember the name of each one and particularly their usage. Abakum mentioned a few to you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, the Dozident and the Stuffarax—”

  “What!” shouted Leomido in a panic, looking at Dragomira with amazement. “She knows about the Stuffarax?”

  “Just by name,” said Oksa in her own defence.

  “Your grand-niece is very inquisitive and has an excellent memory,” said Dragomira. “She doesn’t miss a thing.”

  Oksa felt her cheeks turn crimson and looked at Gus for support. He smiled and shrugged with a resigned expression.

  “It’s true that, ever since you were a little girl, stopping you from finding out our little secrets has really taxed our imagination!” admitted Leomido.

  “Little secrets? That’s an understatement,” remarked Oksa. “State secrets, perhaps!”

  “Hey, Oksa-007,” broke in Gus, “let’s see what you can do. C’mon, show us a good Reticulata!”

  The demonstration was beyond their wildest hopes: the jellyfish-bubble spurted from Oksa’s Granok-Shooter as soon as she uttered the phrase and blew into the small tube. In a few seconds it had doubled, tripled, quadrupled in volume until it had filled half the room. Gus roared with laughter, holding his sides.

  “Everything in moderation as usual, I see!”

  “It’s wicked! But what do I do if I want some different Granoks, Baba?”

  “We’ll talk to Abakum about it later.”

  But, seeing the disappointment on Oksa’s face, she continued: “Okay, fine—I’ll have faith in you, even if you do sometimes totally abuse my trust. Let’s see what I’ve got in stock. Watch and, above all, listen carefully,” said Dragomira, pronouncing the phrases for the Granoks clearly as the Granok-Shooter sucked them up.

  “Cool,” said Oksa, proudly tapping her Granok-Shooter. “Thanks for all this ammunition.”

  “Please, just promise me you won’t use them recklessly.”

  “You know me, Baba. I’m the soul of discretion!” said the girl reassuringly, ignoring Gus’s amused expression.

  The highlight of this uneventful day undoubtedly came from an idea that occurred to the Young Gracious. Early in the evening, exhausted by all her diligent revision, she went looking for Gus and saw him at the far end of the large living room, near the hearth, surrounded by a good twenty creatures, which were gathered around him and listening very closely. It was an incredible scene. Gus looked up in her direction and his expression shocked her: her friend seemed so elated and yet so sad. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a smile which immediately dispelled this impression of bitterness. Oksa had a wild idea: she went over to Gus and told him to follow her into the middle of the large room.

  “Stand behind me and put your hands on my shoulders!”

  “What are you doing, Oksa?”

  “Hold tight and don’t let go, okay?”

  “I won’t let go,” he said, surprised at how embarrassed he felt touching her.

  They rose above the floor, first by a few inches, then quickly ascended the twenty-four feet or so to reach the high ceiling. Clutching Oksa’s shoulders and pressed against her back, Gus let her carry him, murmuring:

  “Amazing! I’m Vertiflying! I’m Vertiflying!”

  They flew back and forth like this in the air, which filled Gus with happiness, until Oksa, with aching shoulders but a joyful heart, landed them both back on the floor.

  “Wow, thanks so much!” said Gus shyly, his cheeks scarlet and his grateful eyes fixed on the floor. “Thanks…”

  41

  A STRESSFUL TRIP

  “CHILDREN, WE HAVE A SMALL SURPRISE FOR YOU, WHY don’t you follow me,” said their host, leading the little group out of the house.

  Outside the weather was marvellously mild, the sky was clear and the mood was high. This was Gus and Oksa’s fourth day with Leomido and they were already excited by the discoveries they were bound to make. Gus began running through the grass, which was still wet from the day before, with Oksa in hot pursuit. Brimming with energy, they b
oth let off steam by scaling the low hills that extended across the estate. They then rolled around on the heather-covered moor, laughing until they were breathless. Leomido and Dragomira were walking arm in arm at a much more sedate pace, following the barely visible path across the rolling hills. Dragomira’s long turquoise dress floating behind her was the only splash of colour in the autumn landscape. Soon they branched off towards a deeper valley than the others, sheltered by gorse rippling in the light breeze. Two huge birds more than six feet tall were gliding on a lake lined with reeds at the bottom of the valley.

  “Let me introduce you to my Gargantuhens,” announced Leomido.

  The Gargantuhens, one white and the other russet, turned towards their visitors and cackled noisily, flapping their wings frantically.

  “They’re enormous!” remarked Oksa.

  “Be careful what you say, my dear, they’re very concerned about their appearance and they don’t take criticism well,” warned Leomido. “Do you fancy a short trip on their backs?”

  A minute later, the Gargantuhens drew alongside the small wooden landing stage and docilely allowed the four to sit astride them. Leomido clambered onto the russet Gargantuhen with Gus, Oksa climbed onto the white one with her gran, and the unusual craft began to drift peacefully on the lake. Oksa and Gus were having great difficulty suppressing their hilarity. They were actually bent double with laughter and this didn’t seem to go down well with the large birds, who showed their annoyance by giving ear-splitting squawks.

  With their hands muffling their ears, they were advised by Leomido to pet the annoyed Gargantuhens by stroking the mottled feathers at the base of their necks. With sparkling eyes, Gus and Oksa exchanged looks, biting their lips to stop themselves roaring with laughter. Then, obeying Leomido, they plunged their hands into the plumage which emanated a gentle warmth. The Gargantuhens, surprised by their attentions, stopped swimming. A few minutes later, peace and quiet had been restored on the lake and the boat trip continued.