Oksa pollock, p.18
Oksa Pollock, page 18
“What a shame,” said Oksa, fingering the dead shoots of a gnarled vine hanging over the entrance to a building.
“It’s a disaster, that’s what it is!” bawled some Getorixes passing by, their arms full of building stones.
“That’s why water conservation will be so important,” added Emica, her clear eyes fixed on Oksa. “You were quite right to create a special Mission. Before the Great Chaos, we managed our resources sensibly, but we didn’t anticipate what was going to happen. We had no experience of shortages and we didn’t know what that meant.”
Staring ahead, she concluded:
“It was simply beyond our imagination,”
“But that’s only natural!” exclaimed Oksa. “When everything’s always gone smoothly, it’s hard to imagine anything different. But I think you adapted brilliantly to the situation, you managed…”
She broke off, gazing into space.
“To survive?” suggested Emica.
Oksa looked at her attentively.
“Yes, you managed to survive,” she nodded.
“And survival is what it’s all about, if it leads to recovery,” said Abakum, scratching his short beard. “Come over here, sweetheart, my Gracious,” he continued with a smile.
He gestured to her to kneel at the foot of the dead vine. Watched inquisitively by around twenty creatures—stripy-legged Velosos, shape-changing Polyglossipers, hairy Getorixes—the Young Gracious complied with impatient enthusiasm, especially as she knew what would happen. As soon as she plunged her hands in the dark, slippery earth she felt warm life vibrating through her fingers, spreading into the ground and imparting its beneficial effects to every particle of soil. On the surface the vine stem began to tremble, at first imperceptibly, then more vigorously. It inflated and deflated, as if taking deep breaths in and out, while tiny buds emerged along its shoots. Soon these exploded into bloom, liberating green and purple leaves which soon covered the trellis. The first bunches of delicious-looking grapes were forming already. Oksa stood up and, resting her hands on her hips, took a step back in wonderment while the Velosos cheerfully did pull-ups on the revitalized branches.
“My Gracious has possession of the gift of Greenthumb,” explained the Lunatrix.
“That’s what I thought”, said Oksa quietly.
She shot her father a conspiratorial glance, full of nostalgia. They both vividly remembered the French Garden, the restaurant founded jointly by the Pollocks and Bellangers in London. Pavel had employed the incredible power which Oksa had just used to create a unique indoor garden with hawthorn bushes, climbing roses, daisy-strewn lawns and even a magnificent oak tree right in the middle of the restaurant. Pavel winked at his daughter: she was going to enjoy the gift of Greenthumb. Oksa was in her element as she raced from withered flower beds to shrubs with bare branches, busily bringing springtime to Thousandeye City. Citizens and domestic creatures at work on roof terraces or in gardens stopped what they were doing to encourage their New Gracious and applaud the wonders being performed before their eyes. Suddenly Oksa stopped. Her cheeks flushed with excitement and her hands dirty, she asked:
“There’s something I don’t understand: why didn’t the Sylvabuls use this power earlier? I thought they all had it.”
“That’s not strictly true, darling,” replied Pavel. “It’s not enough to be a Sylvabul, you also have to possess Gracious blood to have the Greenthumb power. As a result, only a few of us can speed up Edefia’s recovery.”
Oksa pouted, showing her dimples.
“There’s you and me,” she said, thinking hard.
“The Fortensky clan,” continued Pavel, “my cousins, Cameron and Galina, as well as their children. And, because of his unusual origins, our dear Abakum.”
Oksa thought for a moment.
“It that all?” she cried finally.
Pavel pursed his lips in a grimace of resignation.
“That’s still quite a lot, don’t you think?”
Oksa was still racking her brains.
“Okay, leaving Orthon and his vile sons out of the equation, what about Reminiscens and Zoe? They should have this gift, shouldn’t they?”
“Malorane wasn’t a Sylvabul,” explained Pavel. “She was a Long-Gulch. Greenthumb is only passed down to Sylvabuls who are direct descendants of the Gracious.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” sighed Oksa. “What a shame, that would have helped us go a bit faster.”
She thought again for a second.
“But Zoe must have it then!”
“Yes, because of her shared ancestry with Leomido.”
“Brilliant!” cried Oksa enthusiastically.
“Gracious Oksa, would you like to continue our tour?” broke in Emica.
“Oh yes! Let’s go.”
The group headed towards some concentric avenues farther away from the Column and the cube-shaped houses. Here the buildings were rounder with softer curves, some shaped like yurts, others similar to demi-spheres, all of them covered in partly broken plates of glass forming hundreds of shimmering facets. Everything was in ruins here—it was a bleak sight.
“This part of Thousandeye City was founded some twenty years after the Great Chaos,” explained Emica. “Our land was devastated by storms the like of which we’d never seen before. The wind inflicted enormous damage, particularly on the type of houses you saw in the centre.”
“The cubes certainly weren’t very aerodynamic,” remarked Oksa.
“Most of the dwellings in this area were wrecked by the bad weather,” continued Emica. “At that time, no one realized the full extent of the decline we were facing. We knew everything had changed and that nothing would be the same again, but none of us thought things would get so bad so quickly. There were still a lot of us too, the birth rate remained high and there was a terrible shortage of accommodation due to widespread destruction. That’s why everyone got down to work rebuilding the houses that had been flattened, adapting to the circumstances as best we could, the way we’d always done. This led to the construction of this belt of rounded houses, which was called the ‘Dome District’.”
“What a good idea!” remarked Oksa.
“Like the cube-shaped houses, they pivot on their foundations to harness the rays of the sun.”
“That’s ingenious. But they’re in a terrible state,” added Oksa, gazing at the debris strewn over the ground and the general state of disrepair.
“The population dwindled dramatically, people gathered in the centre of the main cities, abandoning certain parts of the territory,” explained Emica. “These houses have been uninhabited for over ten years. Until your allies came to live in them again a few days ago. There were so many of them that the inhabitants of Thousandeye City couldn’t accommodate them all, so they came here and look, they’re already hard at work!”
Oksa narrowed her eyes. A sunny interval allowed her to glimpse inside some of the dome-like houses. Men and women wearing wide blue or khaki kimono trousers were bustling around with tools in their hands and smiles on their lips. Some large hedgehogs and odd-looking blue marmots were climbing over the glazed walls. Intrigued, Oksa walked closer.
“I’ve seen those creatures before in Leafhold,” she said. “But we weren’t introduced.”
Abakum took her hand and led her towards the first house, a vast residence shaped like a cheese-bell. He gently picked up one of the hedgehogs and one of the marmots, both of which wriggled frantically before they noticed Oksa and froze like statues.
“Oksa, this is a Dirt-Sucker and this is a Lusterer!” he said placing them at her feet.
33
THE SAFETY ZONE
“DELIGHTED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE!” SAID OKSA, carefully kneeling down.
The two creatures’ eyes grew impossibly wide, then a shrill scream issued from their narrow mouths, which were filled with tiny teeth. Oksa jumped up and took a few steps backwards. The creatures were shaking like leaves.
“They’re such cowards!” laughed the Getorix.
Abakum gave it a stern look, which didn’t stop the roguish creature from jumping around the others, who were transfixed by fear.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the Fairyman softly, bending down. “This is our New Gracious.”
The creatures immediately stopped trembling at this announcement and Abakum turned to Oksa with a smile.
“Oksa, despite their apparent awe of you, these creatures are a dab hand at household chores.”
Oksa couldn’t help laughing, which did nothing to ease the anxiety of the two little helpers or lessen their rigidity.
“The Dirt-Sucker derives its name from its main function,” continued Abakum. “It sucks up dirt. See those long, soft spines? It uses them to pick up the dirt, which it then swallows and digests. Although it would never say no to a piece of corn or a grape, its staple diet is dirt.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Oksa. “It’s a one-stop recycling system! What about this… marmot?”
“The Lusterer? It works alongside the Dirt-Sucker. Its role is to polish and buff things to a high shine; its luxuriant blue fur contains the ideal ingredient for that kind of chore.”
Oksa was dying to plunge her hand into the Lusterer’s magnificent electric-blue pelt. She ventured a gentle touch and the lustrous marmot immediately rewarded her by arching its back under her fingers.
“Fantastic!” sighed Oksa in delight, her fingers buried in its fur. “I haven’t touched anything so soft since the cuddly octopus I had when I was little! Nor anything so greasy since I had to clean up that bottle of oil I broke in the kitchen,” she added, withdrawing her glistening hand.
The Lusterer gave a sort of husky chuckle and, from its delighted expression, Oksa surmised that her praise hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. This reaction encouraged Tugdual and Zoe to copy her and the three of them began stroking the remarkable cleaner, which lay flat on the newly cleaned paving, offering as much of its body to their caresses as possible. Oksa was laughing heartily when she suddenly noticed Abakum’s worried face. The sky instantly darkened and everyone stood up, looking around, as the Dirt-Sucker and Lusterer scurried inside a house. Everyone working in the buildings nearby came out, looking up, on the alert.
Granok-Shooters in hand, Pavel, Abakum and Emica surrounded Oksa while Tugdual, Zoe and Olof rose ten feet above the ground. Oksa surveyed the sky carefully.
The Dome District bordered the outermost zone of Thousandeye City, a belt of barren ground, devastated by the insatiable desert, whose carpet of black dust had turned to a sticky paste in the recent rainfall. The barely visible, opalescent membrane of the Aegis was fastened to the outer edge of this belt. No one would know it was there but for the breeze and the odd sunbeam, and this transparency meant that the Felons outside could see everything that was going on in Thousandeye City—and vice versa. Standing there in terror, everyone soon realized what had darkened this area of the sky: part of the surface of the Aegis in front of Oksa was covered by tens of thousands of Chiropterans and Vigilians, which were beating their wings ominously against the shield, making it quiver.
“How disgusting!” murmured Oksa, her hand over her mouth.
The Gracious squadrons soon converged from all districts of Thousandeye City to position themselves along the transparent membrane, Granok-Shooters at the ready. On the other side the first Felons appeared, clad in leather armour. The two clans couldn’t come to blows as they were separated by the almost invisible barrier which, although effective, didn’t stop Oksa and her supporters from feeling intimidated by this show of force: despite being perhaps five times less numerous than Oksa’s allies, the Felons were terrifyingly battle-hardened. And they had those diabolical insects, which struck fear into even the bravest hearts. Furthermore, despite being muffled by the shield, the strident whistles of the Chiropterans continued to assail their eardrums and disrupt their nervous systems.
Oksa glanced at Abakum.
“There has to be a way of fighting that!” exclaimed Oksa.
The Fairyman nodded with the air of someone who’s already thought long and hard about the problem. Oksa waited wide-eyed, anxious to hear the details, especially if they could allay her fears, but Abakum had already turned away to focus on the dark swarm. The red-eyed bats and caterpillars with their stinging hairs were pressing against the membrane, stretching it like elastic, trying to bore a hole in it. On every side, Felons were cutting through the scudding clouds yelling war cries at Oksa and her protectors and firing Granoks or Fireballisticos which, although they bounced harmlessly off the shield, were still designed to provoke.
“I hope it’s strong enough!” gasped the Young Gracious.
“The Aegis isn’t indestructible,” replied Abakum, “but don’t worry, it’s strong enough to withstand this kind of attack. The Felons just want to appear stronger than they really are. For the moment, though, they aren’t ready to go further than a display of strength.”
This remark took Oksa’s breath away.
“You mean one day they will?” she asked. “They might be stronger than us?”
“Of course,” replied Abakum gravely, almost inaudibly.
Oksa noticed that Tugdual and Zoe were Vertiflying very close to the hideous creatures and punching them through the stretchy material. She was dying to join them and give vent to the anxiety provoked by those flying monsters and the Felons. She’d just decided to take to the air when a familiar figure appeared among the Chiropterans. Orthon was hovering a few yards away, a nasty smile on his grim face. A cry rang out: as Zoe watched, Tugdual had just been propelled suddenly against Orthon. The two of them stared at each other, the Felon with dangerous resolve and Tugdual with helpless, yet distressing, submissiveness. Then, as violently as he’d been drawn towards Orthon, Tugdual was thrown backwards and, spinning out of control, he crashed to the ground.
Oksa raced over to him. Kneeling at his side, she took his hand, which was as icy and stiff as the rest of his body. He didn’t appear to be injured, but the dark mist over his eyes revealed a deep confusion. He was staring at the exact spot where Orthon had appeared. Oksa turned. She could again see the sky and the Peak Ridge Mountains bristling along the horizon. The Felon had disappeared along with the swarms of Chiropterans and Vigilians.
“Are you all right?” asked Oksa, a lump in her throat. “Have you broken anything?”
Tugdual struggled to a sitting position and rested his elbows on his knees.
“No, I think I’m fine,” he stammered, still in shock.
Oksa’s Lunatrix came to stand in front of him and peered into Tugdual’s ashen face.
“The confrontation of Gracious Hearts has consequences stuffed with gravity for the equilibrium of mental faculties.”
Oksa cocked her head to one side. She frowned dubiously at her little steward.
“The breakage of bones or the sprainage of limbs do not give cause for any lament,” the latter hurriedly continued. “The body of the beloved of my Gracious presents the conservation of an intact constitution.”
Oksa couldn’t help feeling embarrassed by the Lunatrix’s description of Tugdual, even if it was the simple truth. She let her hair fall over her face to hide her crimson cheeks and walked mechanically towards the membrane. She probed it with her fingers, feeling the texture. Although she’d imagined that the substance was similar to plastic or silicone, she found that it was a dense, almost living matter, like flesh made water. And, like any living thing, it was impermeable but could absorb what it needed and defend itself instinctively to stay alive. As a result, while letting in the wind and the rain, it would obstruct anything it deemed undesirable or harmful.
“It’s like a giant Nascentia.”
A commotion roused her from her observation: the Corpusleoxes were racing towards her, escorted by a score of Squoracles, including her own two, dressed in their multicoloured mohair sweaters. The huge creatures, half-lion, half-woman, skidded to halt before Oksa in a spray of dark mud.
“Our respects, our Gracious!” boomed one of them. “Please be advised that your enemies have just tried to enter Thousandeye City on the south side.”
Oksa paled.
“Did they… succeed?” she stammered.
The Corpusleoxes threw their heads back and roared, batting the air with paws bristling with lethal, blood-stained claws. “Stupid question,” thought Oksa, gnawing her lip.
“How did they go about it?” asked Abakum.
“They began by firing Fireballisticos which had no effect,” replied one of the Squoracles. “The Aegis doesn’t react to heat or cold, unlike those of us whose delicate metabolism is extremely sensitive to variations in temperature—not that anyone cares. We could die of hypothermia and no one would notice.”
“Oh, I think we would,” said the Getorix, cackling. “Things would be a lot quieter round here!”
The little hen shivered and looked up at the sky before continuing:
“Then they started firing Granoks loaded with an acid we’ve never come across before. The doorway was damaged, but they couldn’t breach the reinforcement. The Corpusleoxes dissuaded those impertinent Felons from continuing their attack and, in our view, some of them will probably remember the lesson they were taught for a long time to come! We immediately strengthened the door hinges with the help of the Servants for Granokology and Protection.”
