Oksa pollock, p.31
Oksa Pollock, page 31
The Felons were making inexorable progress, though, and the violence escalated as they advanced.
Distraught, Oksa Vertiflew above the streets farthest from the centre of Thousandeye City. Everywhere, people who had once lived together were pitted against each other in terrible hand-to-hand combat.
“What a waste,” murmured Oksa, with tears in her eyes.
Seen from the sky, the city had become a vast morass of men and women fighting with Granoks. Oksa recognized the Fortensky clan, grouped around Galina—Leomido’s daughter—attacking a rhinoceros with Putrefactios. Confronted by this unexpectedly aggressive woman with untidy braids, the animal was writhing in pain as its body putrefied by the second. In any other circumstances these fighters would have felt deep pity for the creature. But neither pity, kindness or mercy had any place in this slaughter. Only the strongest had any chance of survival.
Sven, Sacha and Bodkin were unfortunately not among them. They were some of the first victims of this chaos, lying spreadeagled in the mud.
Farther away, Naftali, Brune and their children were bombarding a group of rebellious Felons with Stuffaraxes. The men fell one by one, suffocated as the insects filled their throats. Tugdual wasn’t with his family and Oksa’s heart lurched when she thought he might be in danger. Or worse…
Oksa’s creatures also did their bit, fighting with all the powers they possessed. The Incompetents spat their corrosive saliva, the Corpusleoxes disarmed the Felons with violent swipes of their claws, and the Attendants charged at the Abominaris, tossing their slimy, mangled bodies into the air. All humans and creatures had abandoned their long-standing pacifist principles to become fierce and courageous warriors.
Both clans seemed surprised at the violence of the raging battle. Neither Felons nor Gracious supporters had thought they might have to face such ferocious adversaries. Lifeless bodies lay everywhere, some dressed in leather, but many in simple double-breasted jackets.
At the other end of the city the Felon vanguard, aided by vicious zebra-snakes and Vigilians, was just as savage in its attack. The Young Gracious glimpsed Tin and Olof fighting one of those enormous reptiles with striped scales. A powerful axe blow severed the monster in two but didn’t kill it. Half its body reared up, towering above the men. It turned a glassy stare on its attackers, its forked tongue darting in and out evilly, then it spat at them. Tin was spattered by its venom and collapsed with a terrible scream.
In an attempt to protect Lucy, who was firing a large number of Granoks at the snake without being able to hit it, Olof was also struck by the venom. Oksa couldn’t bear it: her phenomenal Knock-Bong hurled the two halves of the snake against a wall. The horrible creature finally died in an explosion of flesh and venom. Shocked to see their ruler in their midst, the Gracious’s supporters looked gratefully at her, while the Felons advanced with ominous determination, their fists clenched and their faces hard.
“No one lays a finger on her!” yelled a voice she would have recognized anywhere.
Oksa looked up to see Orthon, floating a few yards above the ground, Granok-Shooter in hand. Everyone scattered.
“No harm must come to her,” he hissed fiercely, without taking his eyes off Oksa.
He landed on the ground in front of Oksa, whom he hated with a vengeance, even though she was his key to success. His fawn-coloured leather breastplate made him look even stiffer than usual, but his face was just as lacking in humanity. Muscles taut with tension, Oksa glared at him defiantly.
“I can imagine how hard that must be for you to say!” she said sarcastically. “Having to spare my life when you’re longing to kill me.”
Amused surprise gleamed in Orthon’s unfathomable eyes.
“Kill you?” he asked. “Tut-tut, not before you’ve done me one last service!”
Several Arborescens Granoks spurted with lightning speed from the group of Felons, immediately countered by the Fireballisticos fired by Oksa’s supporters. The fireballs intercepted the Granoks, reducing them instantly to ash, before being extinguished in their turn to form small orange plumes in the air, thick with dust. Orthon raised his hand and the attack stopped immediately.
“Do you really think I’ll lead you to the Portal?” sneered Oksa. “In your dreams!”
Saying this, she fired a volley of the worst Granoks she possessed at him, regretting that she’d wasted a Crucimaphila on the Diaphan—she’d have to wait a hundred days before using the supreme Granok again. Battle-hardened and skilful, Orthon easily parried the tiny balls laden with spells, deflecting them with fine electric currents from his fingertips. Suddenly they both stopped, unsure who had the upper hand. Orthon gazed at Oksa, his eyes narrowed and cold as a dagger blade. She had to stay unharmed and that was her greatest weapon. Orthon took off and disappeared into the sky with a long, triumphant laugh, leaving Oksa furious.
She was about to take flight in pursuit of her enemy when she was stopped by her supporters.
“Gracious Oksa, you shouldn’t be here!” said a woman, midway through dealing with an Abominari.
“Oh, here comes Lady Muck!” grated the vile creature. “You know that I puke on your family and loathe your ancestors, don’t you?”
“No one talks like that to our Gracious!” said the woman, delivering a fatal blow to its head, which exploded like an over-ripe watermelon.
“Watch out, Oksa! Behind you!”
Mortimer jumped down from the terrace of a burning house to join her. Oksa just had time to turn round to see a silver tiger leaping straight for her. She held out her hand and her quick reaction floored the big cat, as a fireball shot straight into its gaping maw. The animal roared, writhed and snapped its fearsome teeth in an attempt to put out the flames consuming it, but it was no good—the tiger collapsed at Oksa’s feet as she gazed in wonder at its terrible beauty.
“Mortimer? You okay?” she asked.
He nodded, then turned to face an Abominari that was rushing at him with all its claws out. Oksa noticed that Mortimer had taken off the distinctive leather armour and helmet which marked out the Felons. It looked like he had chosen his side.
“What are you doing here?” shouted Zoe suddenly. “You’re supposed to be safe in the Column.”
“I was looking for Orthon,” admitted Oksa.
Zoe gave her a sidelong glance, while firing Colocynthises at a group of Vigilians. They fell to the ground, turned to glass and were reduced to a small pile of shards by some Attendants, which trampled them underfoot.
“Have you lost your mind?” exclaimed Zoe. “It’s too dangerous!”
“This won’t stop until he’s beaten!” cried Oksa, firing a Putrefactio at a Felon who was bearing down on her.
Then she took off again, on the lookout for the man responsible for this chaos.
The two clans battled for hours. The Gracious supporters had the advantage of greater numbers, but the Felons had brute force on their side. Although the latter initially had supremacy, Oksa’s army finally gained the upper hand, after heavy losses on both sides.
Most of the Felons were dead or had been taken prisoner. Only a few diehards still opposed Oksa’s forces around the Column, and Oksa had no doubt that Orthon would be among them.
A crowd had formed near the Gracious’s gardens. She approached cautiously, although she was relieved to recognize some of her entourage: Abakum, Cameron, Naftali, Jeanne and Pierre…
Tugdual.
A great weight lifted from her heart.
But when she heard their sobs, she feared the worst. She felt as though her blood had drained from her body. Who was it? Who were they weeping for? Who was missing? Zoe? Reminiscens?
Her father?
57
THE END OF AN ERA
SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS GOING TO FAINT. HER WHOLE BODY went weak as a sharp pang of grief more intense than any physical pain shot through her. A shadow passed overhead. She looked up: Pavel and his Ink Dragon were hovering above the small group, accompanied by her fiery-winged Phoenix. Her relief felt like a true liberation. Her father was alive! He landed nearby and ran to her.
“You’re here,” he said, hugging her.
“Surely you didn’t think I’d wait for you all on my own in that basement?” she murmured, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder.
Pavel gave a long sigh. A little farther away, a shout interrupted their reunion.
“No, Cameron! Wait!”
It was Naftali’s voice. A choked voice full of sorrow. Pavel and Oksa anxiously hurried over. The Runaways who were there parted to let them through. Eyes wide, Oksa covered her mouth with her hand.
The lifeless body of Helena Knut was lying on the beaten earth.
Kneeling by her side, Abakum had taken ten or so vials from his bag and was doing everything he could to revive her. She looked almost serene, as though she were sleeping. Abakum’s back suddenly slumped. With his slender wrinkled hand, he closed Helena’s faded blue eyes, which were staring vacantly at the smoky sky. Numbly, Oksa looked at Tugdual, while Brune ran into Naftali’s embrace. Tugdual seemed to be in shock, his arms hanging at his sides and a long strand of hair hiding half of his expressionless face.
His mother had just died before his eyes.
He’d lost both his parents.
What was he thinking? What was he feeling? He must have fought hard because his clothes and skin were covered in dust, burns and blood. His grandparents attempted to put their arms around him. He did nothing to stop them as tears like drops of ice filled his eyes. Then he pushed them away to join Cameron, who was beside himself with anger and brandishing his Granok-Shooter at the man they all hated: Orthon.
“It was him!” cried Cameron. “He killed Helena!”
Sitting with his back against the foot of a tree, the leader of the Felons was injured. He had a nasty purple mark around his throat, as if someone had tried to strangle him. He tried to speak but, instead of words, a trickle of blood emerged from his mouth, which was contorted with pain. Only his eyes revealed his true feelings as he glared venomously at Cameron.
“He killed Helena,” repeated Oksa’s cousin. “I saw him, he showed her no mercy!”
Orthon shook his head, which only worsened the bleeding. He stretched out his hand and fired a weak, derisory bolt of lightning, then patted his jacket.
“It this what you’re looking for?” asked Cameron, showing him a Granok-Shooter.
Oksa recognized it. It was Orthon’s, made of dark horn adorned with slender silver threads. The Felon’s eyes widened and turned black as ink. He tried to stand up by awkwardly pushing his fists into the ground, but his arms buckled as his last strength deserted him.
Cameron drew nearer, surprising everyone with his severity.
“It’s over, Orthon.”
And, before anyone could intervene, he hit him with a Colocynthis Granok. In a fraction of a second, the leader of the Felons had been turned into a glass statue which Cameron shattered into a thousand fragments with a lethal punch.
The Runaways were dumbstruck.
Orthon was dead.
It was both momentous and very simple.
Cameron turned to face his family and friends. His customary mild expression had returned, although there was still a trace of cruelty in the depths of his bright eyes. No one knew what to say. None of them could have predicted the way things had turned out. This day had been one of the worst they’d ever experienced, and Orthon’s death, despite hundreds of other regrettable deaths, felt as if it marked the end of a tragic era.
As if to point up this impression, a fragile yet resolute ray of sunshine pierced the thick layer of cloud and smoke and swept across Thousandeye City. The sound of wing-beats roused Oksa from her dazed state. She looked up to see her Phoenix and held out her arm in welcome. It landed gently, its talons barely touching the Young Gracious’s skin, and from its beak came words that only Oksa could hear.
When the Phoenix had taken to the air again, she looked at each of her entourage one by one. Breathing raggedly, her lips trembling slightly, she hugged her Cloak more tightly around her body and announced:
“The time has come… to open the Portal.”
The long lines of Felon prisoners, solemnly flanked by Gracious supporters, watched Oksa and the Runaways pass by. Their faces were serious as they crossed the devastated city. The sound of cheering soon filled the air: the people of Edefia were paying homage to the girl who’d saved the Heart of the Two Worlds and those who’d fought with them against Ocious and tyranny. When they reached the outer limits of Thousandeye City, they took flight for the shores of Brown Lake.
The Portal was there, beneath its dark waters.
Abakum was waiting for her with Reminiscens by his side. Bent double under the weight of his Boximinus, the Fairyman looked as though he’d aged twenty years.
“We’ll see each other again soon, my friend,” Reminiscens told him, pressing his hands between hers.
Abakum nodded mutely. Oksa walked over to the woman who was to govern in her absence.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this, Reminiscens,” she said to the elegant woman. “We’ll be back in thirty-three days.”
“I hope so, my dear Oksa.”
Oksa looked away, not wanting to show how moved she was. She was surrounded by people she loved, the Gracious Hearts who were going with her, and those who were staying behind in the lost land they’d found again, but hadn’t always chosen.
“I’ll bring Gus back, I promise!” she cried, hugging Jeanne and Pierre.
Pierre “the Viking” cupped her chin with his enormous fingers.
“We’re depending on you,” he managed to say.
Oksa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Yet again her heart was being torn in two equal halves—leaving behind those she loved to be reunited with those she loved. Was life always this strange? And this unfair?
“Thirty-three days, Oksa,” whispered her father in her ear.
She pressed her small bag against her. The knowledge that she was carrying the two vials that were going to save Gus and her mother was a huge comfort—it felt almost miraculous. She felt a chubby hand slip into hers.
“My Gracious must take delivery of my gratitude.”
“My Lunatrix, here you are at last!” she cried.
“The domestic staff of my Gracious encounters the intoxication of gratefulness for adding his participation to the excursion bound for the Outside,” said the creature.
“Wherever I go, you go,” said Oksa. “That’s the way it is.”
The Lunatrix blushed with pleasure.
“Oksa?” called her father.
She jumped. It was time to go. Time to save her loved ones and embrace her destiny. Silently she hugged all those who’d become Spurned in their turn, lingering beside Tugdual, who seemed strangely cold.
“Don’t forget what I told you,” she said simply.
Over her shoulder she noticed Mortimer standing at the edge of the forest. She glanced one last time at Tugdual and was scalded by his icy gaze.
“Mortimer!”
The Runaways turned round. Mortimer didn’t dare come any nearer.
“Come on!” cried Oksa.
He hesitated, then approached, hanging his head. They parted to let him through, silently supporting Oksa’s decision.
Oksa finally came to the edge of the water after Abakum had given all the Gracious Hearts an Aquagill Capacitor, which would allow them to reach the Portal without drowning. Oksa had such a big lump in her throat that it was hard to swallow the pill. Nevertheless, she was still first into the water.
“Oksa!”
She turned round, recognizing Tugdual’s voice.
“Wait!” he said. “I’ll go with you to the Portal.”
Oksa’s heart leapt. She kept walking until the water was too deep to stand; then, with Tugdual beside her, she dived in.
The Aquagill Capacitor was fantastic. When swallowed, it released numerous cells filled with oxygen into the lungs of the swimmers, allowing them to swim for about half an hour without needing to breathe. Relieved of this problem, they cut through the water, parting long grasses that floated like underwater banners. The dense, disquieting darkness was pierced only by a few pallid rays of sunshine which didn’t penetrate much deeper than the lake’s surface. Oksa was tempted to use a Polypharus and was just wondering how dangerous it would be for the octopus with illuminating tentacles, when a shoal of phosphorescent fish swam past the Gracious Hearts to take the lead. Guided by this unexpected escort of tiny sparks, Oksa and Tugdual swam rapidly through the dark waters, followed by Pavel, the Fortensky clan, Zoe and the Lunatrix, Abakum and Mortimer. Cameron brought up the rear, slowed down by an enormous bag strapped around his chest.
Finally, the Portal appeared.
Although Oksa had expected something elaborate and imposing, the Portal turned out to be a much more modest affair—a simple flat stone arch standing in the mud at the bottom of the lake, with an ancient-looking wrought-iron gate. Oksa reached it in a few strokes. She wanted to speak to Tugdual, but only bubbles of air emerged from her mouth. Tugdual swam over to her, touched her lips with his fingertips and forced her to turn towards the Portal, so that she could no longer see him. “Thirty-three days,” Pavel had reminded her.
All the Gracious Hearts were now clustered around her. Unbelievably, the time had come at last. She concentrated, summoned the words of one of the two keys in her head, and repeated them carefully, barely moving her lips. She looked at her father and friends anxiously: the Portal had just vibrated in the depths of the water, raising a cloud of silt. Fascinated, they all edged closer to watch the ray of light growing brighter and broader with every second.
Then the Portal was wide open.
