Oksa pollock, p.7
Oksa Pollock, page 7
“But—what should I do? Where should I go?”
“Would you give us your Tumble-Bawler?” said Malorane, holding out her hand.
Oksa obeyed and, while an Ageless Fairy quietly gave the small creature the necessary directions for the Young Gracious’s route, Malorane said in a fierce whisper:
“Your supporters are waiting for you, my dear Oksa. Go safely.”
12
A NARROW ESCAPE
WHEN THE INVISIBULS COVERED HER BODY, OKSA thought she’d scream in disgust. The tiny creatures weren’t insects, but being plastered in sticky tadpoles wasn’t high on Oksa’s list of favourite pastimes.
“Oh… I’m not sure I can bear this,” she mumbled, trying not to open her mouth too wide.
Fortunately, her Lunatrix was clinging to her, which was some comfort. In a few seconds, both of them were coated with the creatures and had disappeared from view. Aware of the huge advantage this new power gave her, Oksa took a deep breath, emptied her mind in an attempt to forget the thick layer of Invisibuls crawling over her, and shot into the air above the island.
The Ageless Ones accompanied her to the invisible frontier, infusing her with courage and determination. Although Oksa didn’t lack these qualities, the thought of being surrounded by her worst enemies, despite being invisible, was more daunting than she’d have imagined.
As if sensing her presence, Ocious lifted his hand and roared, bringing half the land patrols into the air. What had he seen? A movement in the protective field around the island? A gap in Oksa’s covering? He examined the cloudy sky with narrowed eyes. He knew she was there. When she was just a couple of feet away from him, Oksa met his suspicious eyes, which almost threw her off-balance. It was so odd to see without being seen!
“Everyone to me, now!” commanded Ocious.
The squadrons raced towards their leader. In an instant, a hundred men at least formed a wall around him. Oksa was furious with herself. Instead of grimacing at how sticky the Invisibuls were, why hadn’t she asked the important questions like would her body lose its density? Could she be hit by Granoks? Could they capture her? Aware of her fears—especially her pounding heart—the Lunatrix tightened his arms around her.
“My Young Gracious should make the acquisition of one piece of information,” he said to Oksa, who could feel panic taking hold.
“I’m listening,” she whispered.
“The Invisibuls procure an encounter with transparency full of completeness. My Young Gracious can exhibit the conviction of not being seen or heard or felt or touched. A single inconvenience nevertheless experiences survival: the gestures of my Young Gracious have no power to implement consequences.”
“What?” exclaimed Oksa, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. “You mean I’m immaterial? Like a ghost?”
“The affirmation is complete, my Young Gracious.”
That was all it took for Oksa to make up her mind. Gathering speed, she hurled herself at the human wall in front of her.
“Let me pass, you lousy bastards!” she screamed at the top of her voice.
There was a slight feeling of resistance as she passed through the bodies of several soldiers, but nothing that could stop her. The men also seemed to sense some kind of movement, but couldn’t work out what had caused it. Some of them looked at each other sceptically, while others looked round, trying to locate the source of this strange sensation.
When Ocious attempted to fire a Knock-Bong, the blow felt to Oksa like a puff of wind: under the layer of Invisibuls, her hair was ruffled and a gentle breeze skimmed over her skin.
Oksa gloated, dizzy with excitement. Then she suddenly came face to face with Orthon, her age-old enemy, and her jubilation instantly turned to a towering rage. The Felon was standing motionless in mid-air, on the lookout. Oksa hovered just in front of him in a stationary Vertiflight and glared into his aluminium-grey eyes.
“I hate you!” she yelled, protected by the Invisibuls which deadened her every sound. “You’re the worst scumbag in the two worlds! And I’m telling you now: you will pay dearly for everything you’ve done to everyone I love!”
Orthon might not have heard the words, but the Young Gracious’s rage seemed able to penetrate any kind of defence, including the ultra-powerful layer of Invisibuls. Orthon suddenly shot out his arm and his hand connected with Oksa’s shoulder. Petrified, she didn’t dare move an inch. The Lunatrix clung to his mistress with all his might.
“My Young Gracious should proceed to an escape,” he murmured. “Now.”
Shaken out of her immobility, Oksa took off in a flash, soaring above the clouds in record time. Leomido—her beloved teacher—would have been proud of her: Ocious, Orthon and their damned squadrons could look for her all they liked, they’d never find her!
As usual, the Tumble-Bawler proved to be an exceptional guide. Covered with a fistful of magic tadpoles, it led Oksa through the sky with frequent words of encouragement. Still trembling from her aerial encounter, Oksa was very grateful for its support. She had to admit that it was hard to brave such dangers on her own.
“My Young Gracious will never make the encounter with loneliness,” said the Lunatrix suddenly, wrapping his long arms around Oksa’s neck. “Her life will always experience unfolding in the company of her creatures.”
Oksa slowed down.
“You’re so kind, my Lunatrix,” she said eventually. “And I know you’re right!”
Touched by his words, she kept following the Tumble-Bawler, which was panting as it flew. Beneath them Edefia was now a dismal, endless wasteland, a muddy desert crossed by rivers in spate after the continual rain of the past few days. From time to time soldiers flew past without seeing them and, every time, Oksa felt stronger. More resilient. Steadfast in the face of adversity. She’d regained so much more than her energy after her restorative stay with the Ageless Ones.
“Where are we, Tumble?” she asked.
“Tumble-Bawler of the Young Gracious reporting!” said the creature, continuing to flap its wings. “We’re forty miles from our destination, heading south. Given that we’re Vertiflying at an average speed of sixty miles an hour, we can expect to arrive in forty-one minutes.”
“Are we travelling that quickly?” asked Oksa in surprise.
“That was an average, my Young Gracious. You’re capable of flying much faster. For example, you hit your maximum speed fifty-seven minutes ago, when you came face to face with Ocious’s soldiers. Your escape then permitted you to reach a speed of eighty-two miles per hour.”
Oksa whistled.
“Not bad at all!”
Fired by this information, she performed a fearless pirouette in mid-air, which made the Lunatrix chuckle with pleasure.
“What about our destination?” she went on. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
The Tumble-Bawler turned to hover in front of her, beating its wings rapidly, its small round eyes wide.
“We’re heading for a place that was once the most splendid city in Green Mantle, my Young Gracious. The native city of your great-grandfather Waldo and the Fairyman: Leafhold.”
“I thought so!” exclaimed Oksa eagerly.
Twilight was gradually darkening the horizon. A magnificent, freakish oasis of greenery, bristling with giant trees, appeared in the middle of the muddy waste. Oksa felt capable of anything. She was finally going to see the legendary city, the birthplace of the Sylvabuls and of part of herself, and instinctively she knew that this new phase would play a decisive role in her destiny.
13
ENCOUNTER IN THE DARKNESS
LEAFHOLD WAS SURROUNDED BY A WIDE STRIP OF WITHERING vegetation. Trees with bare, twisted branches were dying between the desert which was encroaching on the forest and the giant trees which seemed to owe their survival to that sacrifice. Still covered by Invisibuls, Oksa Vertiflew until she was about a hundred yards from the first colossal trees, then dived towards a sand dune, where she hid and watched, the soft, warm body of the Lunatrix still clinging to her.
In the foreground, it was impossible to ignore the soldiers in leather armour patrolling the perimeter of the tree city, both in the air and on the ground. Oksa hesitated: which camp did these men belong to? Were they Felons in Ocious’s pay or inhabitants of Leafhold anxious to protect their own?
“My Young Gracious should encounter the necessity to examine supreme precaution,” whispered the Lunatrix, banishing her doubts. “The soldierly density assumes dependency on the orders of Ocious, the hated Docent.”
Instinctively, and despite her invisibility, Oksa pressed even flatter against the damp sand and continued to watch. The extraordinary oasis of green foliage could have been plucked from the fertile mind of an imaginative, megalomaniac botanist and had a distinctly surreal quality. Between the trees, some of which were so huge that their tops couldn’t be seen for clouds, an impossibly intricate network of bridges, walkways and aerial corridors linked the houses built among the branches. With darkness descending on the forest city, hundreds of tiny lights sparkled brightly among the branches from inside the houses, while a moving beam appeared on every platform.
Apart from the soldiers, who were keeping the city under constant surveillance, Oksa couldn’t see any signs of life. And yet, she could sense intense activity going on in the depths of the thick forest.
“There is some practical information my Young Gracious should know,” said the Tumble-Bawler, landing on her shoulder.
“I’m listening,” whispered Oksa, keen to find out more.
“Leafhold covers a circle which is four miles in diameter. It stands above one of the last groundwater tables in Edefia, which is the reason for the city’s survival. Three hundred and forty-eight people and five hundred and twelve creatures currently live here, not to mention the two hundred and twenty soldiers in Ocious’s patrols, twenty-three Long-Gulch and Firmhand refugees, four Runaways and eleven creatures who escaped from the Glass Column.”
Oksa stared wide-eyed.
“Four Runaways? Did you say four?”
“That’s right, my Young Gracious,” confirmed the little messenger.
This revelation set Oksa’s mind whirring.
“But you told me that only my father, Abakum and Zoe had managed to escape, didn’t you? So who’s the fourth?”
“I’m terribly sorry not to be able to answer that question,” stammered the Tumble-Bawler.
“My Young Gracious should take delivery of a piece of information which will riddle her heart with happiness,” added the Lunatrix.
Oksa looked at him hopefully.
“The Much-Loved Fairyman experiences the proceeding of a geographic approach.”
Oksa immediately peered through the dense darkness. Apart from the twinkling lights in the trees, and the Polypharuses on the soldiers’ helmets, she couldn’t see a thing. Not a single thing.
“Abakum!” she whispered.
She searched the pitch-black night. Despite the cool air, a droplet of acid sweat trickled down her temple. What if Abakum didn’t see her? She had a great desire to remove the layer of Invisibuls but her fear of being visible was even greater. As long as no one could see her, she had nothing to fear. So she continued to call to Abakum in a sustained whisper, then more loudly.
“Does my Young Gracious have the will to turn her eyes in the direction advocated by her domestic staff?” asked the Lunatrix suddenly.
“Whatever you want!” whispered Oksa, so worried she couldn’t think straight. The little creature then pointed his chubby finger at… nothing. After just a few seconds, though, Oksa realized that this apparent nothingness was deceptive. No one else would have been able to make out a shadow approaching through the darkness over the dunes without the keen sight she and her Lunatrix possessed. It was the Fairyman. The Shadow Man. Barely detectable, like the negative of a photograph, the light grey shape glided over the sand as smoothly and silently as a snake.
“Abakum! I’m here!” Oksa couldn’t help calling.
“I know, sweetheart, I know!” replied a voice she’d have recognized anywhere.
“You can hear me?” asked Oksa, suddenly worried that she’d become audible.
“Have you forgotten my animal side?” teased Abakum.
The shadow came closer and lightly caressed Oksa, who felt the movement of the air rather than his touch.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Abakum!”
The shadow rippled.
“Come with me and do exactly what I say. It’s high time we were all back together again, don’t you think?”
Oksa felt as if she were taking part in a slalom event on the way to Leafhold. They first had to weave their way between the scores of tents belonging to Ocious’s squadrons, then bypass troops of suspicious, and highly mobile, soldiers and Vigilians. Matters were also complicated by the unexpected realization that the Invisibuls loathed the flying caterpillars at much as Oksa did. Every time one of those vile creatures came anywhere near them, Oksa felt sick—and the Invisibuls contracted, squeezing Oksa’s body with a strength directly proportional to their disgust.
“I’m going to be suffocated to death,” she grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”
Sitting astride her shoulders, the Lunatrix puffed with all his might and waved his arms to chase away the caterpillars, but it didn’t work. Her freedom of movement hampered by the physical compression of her body, Oksa kept walking as best she could without taking her eyes off Abakum’s transparent shadow as he led her towards the massive forest.
“Try to avoid going through people!” instructed Abakum. “You might be immaterial, but they’re battle-hardened and may sense your presence.”
It wasn’t too hard to dodge the soldiers, but the Vigilians were another matter. It was an awful ordeal for Oksa to feel hundreds of caterpillars passing through her body! Their wings were beating with a nauseating hissing noise and their tiny cilia grazed her like the wings of a poisonous butterfly. And she couldn’t do anything to stop it; she couldn’t even reduce those monstrosities to small piles of ash with a well-aimed Fireballistico, which was the fate they so richly deserved! Instead, she felt each of them pass through her, as well as having to put up with the involuntary contraction of the Invisibuls, which were having the most trying time of their magical lives. With her nerves stretched to breaking point, she ended up charging straight ahead, screaming and waving her arms, not caring that she looked like a madwoman.
When the barrier of soldiers and the belt of dead vegetation were finally behind them, it took her a few moments to convince herself that the worst was over. The Invisibuls relaxed, she took a deep breath and helped the Lunatrix clamber down from her back and onto the ground. Her heart swelled with affection as her small steward slipped his plump hand into hers.
“Victory wallows in completeness, my Young Gracious, and the mind of her domestic staff is swamped with relief.”
Oksa laughed softly and heard Abakum echo her.
“We’re right behind you, Abakum!” declared Oksa, head held high.
The shadow took a wide, clear path lined with Polypharuses. The illuminating tentacles of the octopuses lit up the trunks of the enormous trees, creating a strangely beautiful, if somewhat eerie, scene. Giant spiral staircases encircled the trees, leading up from their bases. Oksa craned her neck in awe. She could see the light spilling from Sylvabul homes, built on platforms fixed to the junction of several thick branches, as high as sixteen feet from the ground, or even higher.
“Wow!” murmured Oksa.
They continued walking for at least a mile and a half, occasionally passing groups of four or five soldiers.
“They’re everywhere,” grumbled Oksa, hating this dictatorial atmosphere.
The plants lining the path quivered, rustling their serrated leaves, which turned out not to be the effect of the breeze, as Oksa had thought.
“The vegetation performs the manifestation of salutations packed with esteem for my Young Gracious,” explained the Lunatrix.
Oksa stopped dead.
“You mean these plants can see me?”
The Tumble-Bawler and the Lunatrix burst out laughing.
“My Young Gracious makes the expression of comical words! The plants do not discover objects with vision, but with supra-sensory clairvoyance!”
“Er… yes, of course, that’s what I meant,” said Oksa, correcting herself with an amused smile.
Oksa didn’t grow weary of gazing at the forest as they went deeper into it, wreathed in the silence of night, and she was convinced it would be an even more incredible sight in broad daylight.
“When I think that a short while ago I was living a normal life, going to school and rollerblading through the streets of London,” she thought, her eyes moist. “And here I am covered in magic tadpoles, walking through a mind-boggling forest where even the plants are saying hello to me. You couldn’t make it up if you tried.”
The small group soon came to a tree far bigger than any of those Oksa had seen before. It looked like the trunk was at least 160 feet in diameter and its foliage disappeared from sight far above the clouds.
“We’re here,” announced Abakum.
He guided Oksa and her small companions towards the foot of the tree, which made the Young Gracious feel as though she were standing at the base of a skyscraper covered in bark. Looking carefully around, the Shadow Man resumed his physical appearance. The dim light couldn’t hide his pinched face and drawn features, much to Oksa’s concern. Feeling her eyes on him, Abakum turned his head to avoid her gaze, and took from his pocket a fluorescent green scarab beetle—the same one that had locked and unlocked the front door of his house on the Outside.
The living key burrowed beneath the bark of the tree and the dull clatter of countless bolts could be heard. An opening formed in the bark, just wide enough to allow everyone to file inside the giant tree, then closed again immediately.
