Oksa pollock, p.14
Oksa Pollock, page 14
“You okay, Oksa?”
“I was just thinking about Gus,” she couldn’t help replying and then gnawed her lip until she drew blood.
Pierre had lost so much weight that he looked as if he were melting away. His skin and hair had turned grey, his eyes, once so bright, were now dull with deep sadness. The man who’d once been called “the Viking” was a shadow of his former self. And, unintentionally, Oksa had just cruelly reminded him of the main reason for his suffering.
“We think about Gus too,” said Jeanne as gently as usual. “Thank you so much for bringing us some news—it’s such a relief to know he’s well and safe in London.”
“I miss him,” said Oksa, in a strangled voice. “He’d have loved to see this!” she added, gazing at their surroundings.
Gus’s mother took her hand and squeezed it warmly.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to tell him all about it one day,” she said suddenly.
Oksa almost replied, but stopped herself in time.
“Anyway, in the meantime, we have a battle to fight!” continued Jeanne, her brown eyes sparkling.
Although Oksa’s account of her brief visit to the Outside had upset Pierre badly, Jeanne had been unspeakably happy to hear the news, which had transformed this frail, reserved woman into a warrior with an iron will. The contrast was disconcerting and not a little depressing.
“Thousandeye City in sight!” shouted someone. “We’re almost there.”
A loud murmur rose from the ground and filled the air. Everyone quickened their pace considerably, impatient to arrive. The creatures fidgeted on the Gargantuhens.
“Come on, chicks!” screeched the overexcited Getorixes, frantically brandishing their imaginary riding crops. “Much too slow! Faster, faster!”
The giant hens gave a long, raucous squawk. The Lunatrixes and Squoracles on their back, clinging to their feathers, screeched too, forming a noisy and dishevelled escort. Oksa squinted: the vertical Column stood out against the horizon. Around it, bluish-grey and mauve streaks filled the sky. The setting sun could be glimpsed behind thick clouds. Only that strange ray of sunlight managed to pass through and plunge deep into the heart of the Column. Oksa had to summon a Reticulata to make out the crystalline contours of the shield described by the Tumble-Bawler. It hung over Thousandeye City like a gigantic transparent cloud with a substantial yet hazy outline. Oddly enough, its presence filled Oksa with reassurance. She glanced at her father with his Ink Dragon and the enormous crowd following them, then flew as fast as she could towards the capital of Edefia.
26
BORDER CONTROL
FROM HIS CLIFFTOP VANTAGE POINT NEAR THOUSANDEYE City, Orthon watched as the sky darkened, not with threatening clouds, but with a dense, triumphant throng. A huge dark stain was also spreading over the ground like a lengthening shadow, accompanied by a subdued commotion. The Felon clenched his fists. Damn that Oksa Pollock! She’d won, and the whole nation was with her. Or nearly… Orthon screwed up his face in a scornful grimace. A paltry thousand subjects had respected the allegiance they’d sworn to Ocious. All the others had gone over to the New Gracious’s camp.
“Traitors and scum,” he snarled.
Although it was virtually transparent, the cloud suspended over the city also came in for close scrutiny from Orthon. A protective screen—how ingenious. And annoying. That had to be one of Abakum’s ideas. That damned Fairyman was always putting a spoke in their wheels. One day, he, Orthon, would kill him. That was a promise. However, in the meantime the first Vertifliers and runners were nearing the city’s boundary. So when about fifty people flew overhead to join the ranks of the Gracious’s supporters, he soared with a predatory smile towards the man who was bringing up the rear.
With her hands on her hips, Oksa was inspecting the protective membrane over Thousandeye City. Like a thin layer of barely rippling water, it slightly distorted their view of the city. The enormous crowd with her seemed to have come to a tacit agreement that she should be first to enter, and everyone had stopped before what served as the city’s boundary. Oksa held her breath and reached her hand out warily. She brushed the strange surface with her fingertips and looked at her father in puzzlement: nothing was happening. Pavel frowned anxiously. Suddenly, the transparent surface of the membrane quivered: two huge shapes were drawing closer. A shudder ran through the ranks. Some of the oldest citizens recognized them from when they’d been invited, many years ago, to visit the Singing Spring or had been peremptorily denied access. For everyone else, the Corpusleoxes were a legend that many people had dearly hoped was real. These splendid creatures with the body of a lion and the head of a woman advanced until they were almost touching the crystalline barrier, then bowed down before Oksa.
“Young Gracious, we’re honoured to meet you again and to serve you,” they chorused.
Their words rang out above the enormous crowd as if amplified.
“It’s wonderful to see you again here,” stammered Oksa. “Thank you for all you’ve done,” she added, glancing at the protective membrane.
The Corpusleoxes shook their manes and straightened to their full, impressive height.
“We’re not the only ones who have prepared for your arrival,” they announced.
Behind them, the floating halo of the Ageless Ones was glowing softly. Then a much-loved silhouette appeared in the half-light.
“Abakum!” exclaimed Oksa.
Impulsively she rushed forward. The Corpusleoxes took a few steps back as a narrow opening formed in the membrane and Oksa was able to throw herself into the arms of the man she loved like a grandfather. Dragomira’s Watcher had always been a pillar of strength and comfort, and now he was hers.
“I didn’t think you’d do anything by halves,” she said, her face radiant.
Abakum put his hands on Oksa’s shoulders and studied her, his eyes joyful at this auspicious reunion.
“This protective shield is known as the Aegis. It will give us some much-needed breathing space,” he said with an expansive gesture.
“It’s amazing! And did you see?” continued Oksa, pointing at the hundreds of people waiting on the other side of the membrane. “I didn’t come alone!”
The old man’s face darkened.
“We must remain on our guard, sweetheart. Your loyal supporters would lay down their lives for you. They’ve already proved that and will do again, I’m sure, because this isn’t over. We’ve won a big victory, but Ocious and his followers aren’t beaten yet. There are men and women in the pay of the Felons hiding among those with you today. We mustn’t take any chances.”
“How will we know who they are?”
Abakum smiled mysteriously.
“There’s one foolproof method…”
“I know exactly who you mean!” interrupted Oksa, revitalized. Her great-uncle Leomido’s words were engraved on her memory. “This little creature plays a very interesting role as a revealer of the truth, because it looks beyond appearances. In Edefia, the Squoracle was used as a lie detector.”
“They’re never wrong,” confirmed Abakum.
Oksa peered outside and called:
“Squoracles? Where are you? Come here!”
Four tiny hens emerged from the crowd and entered easily through the membrane. Oksa couldn’t help laughing inwardly at the sight of them trembling in the woollen sweaters that Abakum had knitted personally. They were even more vociferous than usual.
“Young Gracious,” one of them twittered, true to form, “although the humidity is awful because of all this rain, you should know that we don’t hold it against you, because the temperatures here are much easier to bear than those we had to endure in Great Britain or, worse, in Siberia, where we almost froze to death.”
Oksa snorted with laughter.
“Thank you for bringing us back to our land, Young Gracious!” they chorused.
“We need your help, Squoracles,” said Oksa, unsmiling again.
“Our loyalty and our gratitude know no bounds. We’re at your service.”
Oksa looked solemnly at the tiny hens.
“We need to screen everyone entering Thousandeye City to make sure that no Felon gets inside. Do you think you can do that?”
The Squoracles spluttered with excitement.
“That’s what we do best, Young Gracious! There is no truth or lie, however deeply buried in the mind of man, that can escape our detection. To work, my friends!”
They positioned themselves in front of the only entrance, flanked by the Corpusleoxes, which made them look even tinier, and held their pointed beaks high.
“Everyone must be examined before they can enter the Aegis,” said Abakum. “There could be Felons everywhere.”
One by one the inhabitants of Edefia were assessed by the Squoracles, whose shrewd talents proved to be the best possible protection against anyone harbouring ill will. There was no need for people to state their identity or even speak at all. No one could hide anything: the tiny, cold-fearing hens sensed, understood and saw everything. Which was just as well since, as Abakum had feared, Oksa’s supporters had been infiltrated by Felons trying to get into Thousandeye City, which sent the Squoracles into a black rage. These would-be interlopers were given good cause to regret their actions—they were tightly bound then forcefully expelled by droves of those excitable flying frogs, the Croakettes.
“There are plans of evil intent deep in your heart,” squawked the Squoracles. “You’re not one of us!”
It didn’t take more than a few seconds, or occasionally a few minutes, to analyse an individual, which meant that people were allowed inside in dribs and drabs, although no one showed any tiredness or impatience. As though they were being poured through a very narrow funnel, the supporters gradually gathered behind Oksa and the Runaways, their faces glowing with exultation despite their ordeals. Oksa never tired of watching the men and women come in. Apart from the way they dressed, they looked just the same as Outsiders. And yet, there was something fascinating about the power they all possessed. Even the youngest child—Edgar’s great-grandson, as it happened—had greater abilities than the strongest Outsider. Once they were allowed in by the Squoracles, they filed in front of Oksa and greeted her, offering their sincere thanks. The Young Gracious replied with a few kind words, a nod of the head or a smile. Occasionally she caught her father or Abakum watching her, their eyes bright with emotion.
“I’m proud of you, darling,” said Pavel softly.
“We’re going to pull it off, Dad, we’re going to pull it off!” she replied, thinking much further ahead than the present moment.
Night had fallen long ago when the last few stragglers appeared before the Squoracles. Many citizens had already been given a warm welcome by the Long-Gulches of the city, who still had houses and could offer them board and lodging. Oksa and the Runaways, though, had preferred to remain by the entrance to Thousandeye City until the end of the screening process. The Getorixes and Lunatrixes saw to their every comfort, providing their mistress and her entourage with ample food and drink.
“You bearing up, my Lil’ Gracious?”
After keeping his distance, which had worried Oksa, Tugdual had finally approached the Aegis. His entry into Thousandeye City hadn’t been straightforward—one of the Squoracles had hesitated. Its feathers quivering and its beak in the air, the tiny lie detector had experienced a few long moments of indecision, which had deeply concerned Abakum, Oksa and Zoe, who were watching.
“What’s going on?” Oksa had asked softly, suddenly worried.
“Our little feathered friend is probably getting tired,” the Fairyman had said, putting a firm arm round Tugdual’s shoulders to lead him into the Aegis.
“Aching all over from the high levels of humidity and the drop in temperature, yes—but tired, no!” the Squoracle had squawked, before turning its attention to a new candidate who wanted to join the Young Gracious’s supporters.
Tugdual had come over to sit near Oksa. Straddling the low seat with his long legs and resting his elbows on his thighs, he’d stared at her with icy vehemence. Oksa just nodded in answer to his question.
“You’re doing really well, you know,” he continued.
“Thank you,” said Oksa. “I’m doing my best.”
“It’s working. They love you.”
She greeted a man who bowed to her, then continued:
“This is insane, isn’t it?”
Tugdual smiled and Oksa realized that she wanted to do something completely inappropriate, given the circumstances: she wanted to kiss him. Her eyes widened in surprise at such an incongruous thought.
“Patience,” mouthed Tugdual.
Again he’d seen in her eyes what was running through her head.
“Please stop smiling,” she whispered, her cheeks scarlet.
“What if I don’t?”
“If you don’t, I’ll lock you up in the filthiest basement of the Glass Column and throw away the key.”
“There aren’t any filthy basements in the Column,” retorted Tugdual, looking amused.
“Well, I’ll have a really squalid one built just for you. You’ll laugh on the other side of your face then, I promise you that!”
“Aren’t you afraid that people will think you’re an evil dictator if you do?”
“Actually, I don’t care, because anything would be better than putting up with that smirk for a day longer than I have to.”
Her eyes sparkled as she turned away, although not fast enough to hide her attractive dimples.
There were about fifty people left outside the city, a group of Firmhands who wanted to join the Young Gracious, when there was another hitch.
“I don’t believe it!” Pavel suddenly roared, a few yards from the entrance.
Abakum was trying to calm him down, his hands resting on his friend’s shoulders. Nearby, flanked by the Corpusleoxes, a blonde woman was waiting, her arms at her sides and her face careworn, accompanied by a scared young boy.
“Annikki,” murmured Oksa. “Annikki and her son.”
“We’re quite adamant!” shrieked the Squoracles. “This woman’s heart is honest, and it contains no evil intentions.”
“But still,” objected Pavel, white with anger. “She’s Agafon’s granddaughter, and he supports Ocious and Orthon.”
He looked at the Runaways and the Gracious’s supporters, who’d drawn nearer.
“If you don’t trust us, then we’ll resign, simple as that!” threatened the Squoracles indignantly, the feathers on their heads sticking up.
“You can’t have forgotten already that she was involved in Marie’s abduction,” continued Pavel in a choked voice.
“Dad, Annikki is a nurse,” gasped Oksa. “And you know full well that it was because of her that Mum survived on the Island of the Felons. They were very fond of each other.”
She looked at her father with shining eyes.
“Annikki isn’t like them,” she added softly. “Her origins are more of a burden than a motivation and, like us, she’s paid dearly for coming here: her husband is still on the Outside.”
Pavel groaned at this reminder.
“Remember what Baba said,” finished Oksa, “emotional affinities are more important than blood ties.”
Her words finally persuaded her father. His shoulders sagged and he gave Annikki and her son a long, sorrowful look as they timidly crossed the boundary. Then he turned and walked away, his back bowed.
It was late into the night and everyone was growing tired. There were nine people waiting outside the protective membrane and Oksa had to admit that she couldn’t wait to see the only entrance to Thousandeye City closed. However, when Tugdual stiffened in his seat she snapped alert. The expression on Tugdual’s face was serious, almost savage.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
He didn’t reply. Oksa followed his gaze, which was resting on one of the men in the group. The plump man, who had tangled, greying hair and gleaming eyes, was staring so fiercely at Tugdual that soon everyone was watching them to the exclusion of everything else. Abakum took a few steps forward, looking anxious, and the Squoracles squawked excitedly.
“Please get down to work,” he told them, sounding troubled.
The four Squoracles approached the man, who didn’t drop his gaze by one iota. He just puffed out his chest and clenched his fists. The creatures sniffed him, then peered at him with tiny eyes and recoiled:
“You’re not who you’re pretending to be. Whoever you are, you’re not welcome here!”
Everyone who was still there gathered together.
“You’re the worst person of all of us,” shrieked the oldest Squoracle angrily. “Get out!”
Immediately, Pavel and Abakum threw themselves in front of Oksa, shielding her with their bodies. Oksa cried out in surprise, clapping her hand over her mouth. She felt as though all the blood had drained from her body.
“It’s impossible,” she stuttered, vainly examining the man looking at them on the other side of the Aegis.
Memories of meeting Dragomira’s identical twin in the cellar at the London home of Orthon McGraw—then her hated maths teacher—rose to the surface. She instinctively caught hold of Tugdual’s arm as he stood stiffly beside her. Frightened by how motionless he was, she turned to look at him. Tugdual seemed a million miles away, isolated by his pain. When the Croakettes appeared in a furious whirr of wings to carry off the undesirable interloper, he soared into the soot-black sky and disappeared. Tugdual shivered, blinked and gazed at the Runaways in bewilderment.
“Are you all right, lad?” asked Abakum in a choked voice.
Tugdual nodded. Oksa was trembling all over, as breathless as if she’d just run a race. She glanced at Zoe, whose eyes were as dark as the moonless night.
“It was Orthon, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly.
Abakum murmured a mournful “yes”. Oksa stifled an angry exclamation and with a sad, puzzled glance at Tugdual, she issued an order, sounding more confident than she would have thought possible:
