Oksa pollock, p.15
Oksa Pollock, page 15
“Corpusleoxes, Squoracles, Croakettes, thank you so much for your help. Please close the doorway. This is our home now!”
27
THE CONFINANTS
ALTHOUGH THERE WERE NO SQUALID CELLS IN THE BOWELS of the Glass Column, there were captives. Ocious had brooked no opposition or dissent and had imprisoned these men and women with the Confinement Spell he’d discovered in the Gracious Archives. He’d added to their torment by gagging them with a Granok that had long ago fallen into disuse: the Sealencer. These poor wretches had been condemned to a living death in some airless underground passages of the Column, locked away from society and suffering an ill-fed existence in miserable silence.
“Those people need your help,” declared the Corpusleoxes. “You’re the only one who can free them.”
The magnificent creatures were walking smoothly beside the Young Gracious.
“We’ve examined their hearts, and they’re all on your side,” they continued. “You need have no doubts about their loyalty. Thousandeye City has been cleared of all the Felons who might still be hidden here.”
“I have every confidence in you,” nodded Oksa. “Let’s get a move on! We mustn’t let those poor people suffer a moment longer than they have to.”
Although she was exhausted and hungry and it was the middle of the night, she hurried towards the Column, which soared into the dense, low-level clouds. Everyone else, supporters and Runaways alike, had been urged to rest. “Tomorrow is another day,” Oksa had assured them. Only her father, Abakum, Tugdual and Zoe were still with her, following close behind and escorted by the Ageless Fairies.
A faint light spilled out of the houses bordering the streets, lengthening the shadows and distorting the appearance of shrubs, low walls and bushes. In any other circumstances the atmosphere would have been oppressive, even scary. But there was nothing to fear now—Oksa and her entourage had no misgivings as they walked over the ground with its thin covering of mud. The sweetish smell rising from it induced a strange state of lethargy, as if the freshly watered land were communicating its relief to the humans.
“Young Gracious!” they heard suddenly.
Abakum held up his Polypharus and a girl emerged from the darkness.
“It’s Lucy!” exclaimed Oksa.
The young Long-Gulch’s face was filled with overwhelming hope.
“My father’s in there,” she said simply, gesturing to the Column.
Oksa looked at her sympathetically. She knew how hard it was to be separated from the people you love.
“Let’s not hang around, then!” she said. “It’s about time you were reunited with him.”
As they walked through the corridors with their remarkable crystalline walls they could see no sign of an entrance into or out of any room, apart from the door in the seventh basement, which they knew led to the Cloak Chamber. However, the Corpusleoxes seemed to know exactly where they were going, threading their way through the narrow corridors with impressive ease, despite their size. Oksa and her entourage followed them down to the eighth level, where the Corpusleoxes stopped before a wall no different from the others.
“We’re here,” these creatures announced.
Looking sceptical, Oksa ran her hand over the opalescent surface which, although uneven, was smooth, as if polished by a thousand caresses.
“I can’t see anything,” she murmured, frowning as she examined the wall.
“Cover your ears, Young Gracious and the rest of you, we’re going to open the door,” warned the Corpusleoxes.
Putting their hands over their ears as they were told, they witnessed the unexpected effect on inorganic matter produced by these creatures’ extraordinary roar. Rising from deep within, their low, powerful call gradually became louder and louder, like a hurricane sweeping away everything in its path. Oksa staggered, thrown off-balance. Tugdual caught her just in time and made her crouch down to minimize the effect of this ear-splitting roar. Oksa grimaced with alarm and pain: her eardrums felt like they were going to burst. Helplessly she watched Tugdual remove his hands from his own ears to cover hers, doubling her protection, and pulling her tightly against him with her face buried in the crook of his shoulder. She could feel his body straining against the unbearable, unstoppable noise.
The din eventually died down and the air stilled, leaving everyone speechless and dishevelled. Tugdual helped Oksa to her feet to see the miracle they’d worked: there was now a semicircular opening in the wall, wide enough to accommodate several people abreast. The Corpusleoxes were standing on either side and gesturing with their huge paws for Oksa and her entourage to enter. Abakum went first, Granok-Shooter in hand, followed by Oksa and the others.
In the glow of Abakum’s Polypharus, the outlines of a long, narrow room appeared at right angles to the hallway. The milky whiteness of the stones made the place seem less squalid than they’d expected, given its use. There were no signs of life.
“More light,” urged Abakum.
Oksa and all of the Runaways summoned a Polypharus and advanced, Lucy clinging to Zoe’s arm. The Fairyman was right: a very strong light was needed to make out the shadowy human figures behind blocks of crystal so thick that it was almost impossible to see through them.
“There are people in there!” exclaimed Oksa, her hand over her mouth. “They’ve been walled in!”
“Dad?” cried Lucy. “Where are you?”
The shadows immediately huddled closer to the walls separating them from the living, moving restlessly like ghostly shapes made of black vapour. Stinging tears blurred Oksa’s sight and she turned to Abakum.
“What should I do?”
“Confinement has been the exclusive domain of the Graciouses since time immemorial,” replied Abakum. “Despite that, although Confinement and Impicturement are difficult spells to cast, it can be done by others, as Orthon and Ocious have reminded us. However, and this restricts their usefulness, Deconfinement and Disimpicturement require a power possessed only by the Graciouses.”
“One final safety measure,” murmured Oksa. “Do you think that creep Ocious was aware of that tiny detail before he sentenced these poor people to Confinement?”
“Ocious, like Orthon, is the type of person who tends to overestimate his abilities and become blinded by his own power,” said Abakum bitterly. “No doubt he thought he could master everything, and he was willing to condemn those poor innocent people to a fate worse than death if he couldn’t.”
Oksa looked at the shadows pressing against the blocks of crystal. Instinctively she put her hand on the wall and, to her great surprise, felt her fingers sink into it, as if the crystal were soft. She turned to look questioningly at Abakum.
“Is that because of my Werewall abilities?”
By way of an answer, Abakum asked Tugdual and Zoe, who were both of Werewall descent, to imitate Oksa. They did, but nothing happened.
“Your Werewall abilities aren’t any help here,” remarked Abakum with a smile. “I’d say it’s more down your Gracious powers.”
Itching to begin, Oksa was filled with a dizzying sense of exhilaration. Taking a deep breath, she placed both hands on the crystal, which instantly softened on contact with her skin. She then parted the wall as easily as if she were opening a pair of taffeta curtains. The interior of the stone prison appeared, and a loud groaning could be heard. Oksa recoiled, horrified at the terrible sight before her: a hundred men and women surged forward, eyes bulging and skin livid. They were all muzzled by a large, flat, iridescent blue insect, whose six legs were embedded in the flesh around their lips, sealing them hermetically.
“That’s revolting!” stammered Oksa, feeling sick. “Is that what the Sealencer is?”
Abakum nodded, his face white.
“That’s a vile Granok!” protested Oksa grimacing. “We have to free those poor people!”
“Listen and repeat,” said Abakum to everyone around him.
By the power of the Granoks,
Think outside the box.
Your claws apply the seal
Your wings remove the seal.
The four Runaways aimed their Granok-Shooters and diligently uttered the magic words. The Sealencers broke away with a sucking noise which convinced Oksa once and for all that she’d never be able to stand insects. Rising above their heads, the Sealencers formed a rippling swarm with vibrating wings that gave off a repulsive stench. Then, breaking up into several small groups, they swooped down towards the Runaways’ Granok-Shooters, slipped inside and disappeared. Oksa dropped her blowpipe in disgust and wiped her hands on her trousers. Tugdual bent down to pick up her Granok-Shooter, carefully examined its mouthpiece and handed it back to Oksa with an amused glance.
“Don’t laugh at me!” she huffed, pretending to push him away.
Tugdual gently took her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
“Look,” he said.
Lucy was clinging to her father, Achilles. All around them, the Edefians who’d rebelled against Ocious’s tyranny were joyfully thanking their liberators. The oldest among them began weeping when they recognized Abakum, who couldn’t conceal his emotion at seeing a man with long plaited hair and craggy features.
“Sven? Is that really you?” asked Abakum, his lips trembling.
“Abakum, my friend,” replied the old man. “I always knew you couldn’t be dead.”
The two men hugged long and hard.
“And not only have you come back, but you brought us a priceless gift,” continued Sven, turning to look at Oksa.
Gazing deferentially at the Young Gracious with radiant faces, no one seemed brave enough to approach her. Oksa squeezed Tugdual’s hand even tighter and edged closer to him until their shoulders were touching. Being the centre of attention always made her want to run away and hide at the top of the Glass Column. Finally meeting Lucy’s joyful gaze, she ventured to examine the other men and women properly. Tactfully ignoring their filthy, emaciated bodies, she saw them for what they truly were: representatives of an exhausted yet loyal nation standing in solidarity before her. She straightened, took a deep breath and smiled triumphantly at them.
“Long live our Young Gracious!”
The unanimous cry rang out in the basements of the Glass Column as though announcing an end to the Years of Tar. Recovery was long overdue.
28
ACCEPTANCE
A SUPERCHARGED ATMOSPHERE OF HYPER-VIGILANCE prevailed in the first days of the reign of Gracious Oksa. The Aegis—that vast transparent, shifting membrane over Thousandeye City—was proving very useful, and its effectiveness was put to the test on several occasions when the Felons tried to break in, either in the air or through the only entrance, or even by tunnelling under it. Accompanied by the Corpusleoxes and supported by the whole nation, the Squoracles thwarted even the cleverest tricks. The tiny hens were infallible, spotting the use of shape-changing powers, Werewall abilities and Muddler or Hypnagogo Granoks.
From her vantage point at the top of the Glass Column, Oksa was watching a group of Long-Gulches who were Vertiflying back and forth along the membrane, checking for breaches. In a few minutes she was going to the large Council Room to name the High Enclave, her new government. She sighed.
“Is anything wrong?”
Oksa turned round and looked at Tugdual without replying. He was stretched out on the bed, his arms behind his head and his legs crossed.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you!” snapped Oksa, her hands on her hips.
“It’s so comfortable here,” said Tugdual, smiling.
“Isn’t sir happy with his own apartment?”
“Perfectly happy. But yours is so luxurious.”
“As it should be!” replied Oksa with a shrug.
She tried to tip Tugdual off the bed, but ended up being pulled down beside him. Lying on her stomach, elbows propped up on the silky bedspread, she looking around distractedly and started pulling a thread loose. Since Ocious and the Felons had fled, the Runaways had taken over the top floor, which was traditionally reserved for the use of the Gracious’s family, as well as a few levels below. Some of the top-floor apartments and the Memorary had been badly damaged during the Great Chaos, then restored when Ocious came to power. Although a little shabby, their former splendour seemed to have increased over the passing years, as if they’d become more beautiful with time. Oksa loved her apartment, which had many separate levels, dividing the enormous main room into various attractive areas. The crystal columns and translucent glass mosaic tiles on some of the walls were breathtakingly beautiful, even though they showed signs of wear and a few tiles were missing. Oksa’s only complaint was the preponderance of inorganic materials and the lack of greenery. But she’d soon remedy that, she promised herself.
For the moment she had more important things to worry about, as Tugdual could see.
“So what’s wrong?” he asked.
Oksa hesitated before replying:
“I’m not really sure what to do.”
Tugdual glanced reassuringly at her.
“You’ll be brilliant, I know you will. And don’t forget you’re not alone. You can trust everyone here. They just want what’s best for you and for Edefia. You have no right to doubt yourself.”
Hearing this, Oksa sat up.
“What do you mean, I have no right to doubt myself?” she protested.
“The only person who’s allowed to have doubts is me,” replied Tugdual in a low voice.
Oksa stared at him, but he avoided her eyes.
“What doubts? About me?”
Her voice broke. That was all she needed. If Tugdual left her it would be the end of the world.
“I’ve never had any doubts about you,” he said. “Never.”
Oksa opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Come here,” murmured Tugdual.
Oksa knew he wouldn’t say any more. She let him wrap his arms around her and snuggled up against him. Every day, her need for physical contact grew stronger. There was no comparison between the emotions she’d felt at fourteen and the feelings that tormented her constantly now she was over sixteen. She caressed Tugdual’s chest through his black tee-shirt, her heart on fire.
“I’m not normal,” she whispered.
Tugdual kissed the corner of her lips.
“You’re the Young Gracious, remember. That makes you different, not abnormal.”
Oksa pressed even closer against him and finally succumbed to her desire to slip her hand beneath his tee-shirt. His skin was soft. Incredibly soft.
“I’d like to stay like this for the rest of my life.”
“You’d get bored.”
“I love being with you.”
“I’m never far away,” murmured Tugdual, before kissing her.
Oksa couldn’t think straight. A jumble of confused sensations and images filled her head—Tugdual’s chilly gaze which set her heart on fire. The symbolic illustrations on her Cloak. The liberated people of Edefia soaring into the sky and poignant thoughts of her mother stuck in her wheelchair in the middle of the damp living room in Bigtoe Square. Gus’s scent and the taste of his lips. Shocked by the turn her thoughts were taking, she opened her eyes and gently extricated herself.
“I’m telling you,” she murmured, burying her face in the crook of Tugdual’s neck. “I’m definitely not normal.”
About two hundred men and women were waiting in the large Council Room, which was bathed in the milky glow from the light shaft. All two hundred, wearing Edefia’s traditional dress of wide trousers and double-breasted top, enthusiastically rose to their feet as one when Oksa appeared at the top of the amphitheatre, clad in clean jeans and a white blouse set off by her loosely knotted lucky tie. She scanned the assembled throng standing in a semicircle, remembering the last time she was here: a horribly vivid memory that still made her wince. It had been Ocious, surrounded by his vile sons and allies, who’d “welcomed” her in the most dangerous circumstances imaginable. Today, though, there was nothing to fear in this room with its awe-inspiring symbolic magnificence—the mingled respect and belief in all the faces looking at her proved it.
It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. She walked down the tiered steps, her cheeks flushed but her head held high, and everyone bowed as she passed them. Unable to meet anyone’s eyes, she reached the rostrum facing the amphitheatre and turned round to see the Runaways in the front row. Her father, Abakum, Zoe, Tugdual, the creatures… they were all there, their faces glowing with excitement and pride, which boosted her confidence and energy.
This solemn atmosphere was suddenly heightened by the golden halo of about ten Ageless Ones, who flooded out from the shaft descending through the ten upper floors of the Column and filled the huge room with a cone of light. The Ageless Ones floated over to Oksa and she found herself studying them hopefully, even though she knew it was pointless. Not one of the silhouettes swaying in front of her bore any resemblance to the one she wanted to see more than anything: Dragomira, her beloved Baba, wasn’t with the Ageless Ones. She missed her so much… it would have been so comforting to have her with her, particularly on such a special day.
“Rest easy, sweetheart,” whispered a voice that Oksa recognized as Malorane’s. “Dragomira will be nearby for ever.”
Oksa glanced fiercely at her. Her words, even if they were true, were small consolation, but life went on and she had to look to the future. In her open palm, Malorane presented Oksa with a tiny multicoloured ball which, when unrolled, proved to be her intricately embroidered Cloak. Oksa let them drape the Cloak over her shoulders, and felt its legendary power spread through her body as it had done in the Chamber in the seventh basement. An admiring murmur ran through the amphitheatre. Someone began clapping, followed by scores of other people, and the room was filled with thunderous applause. Gnawing her lower lip, Oksa eventually found herself infected by the general euphoria. With a dazzling grin, she held out her arms to her father and Abakum. The two men joined her on the rostrum and the applause grew even louder. She looked around the packed amphitheatre, from the first rows to the ceiling dotted with patches of shifting light, noticing the Lunatrix, dressed in his best dungarees, and the Incompetent, whose look of total bewilderment was as amusing as ever. The voice of an Ageless Fairy rang out:
