Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope (30 page)

T
HE ENSUING SILENCE WAS DREADFULLY EMBARRASSING
, particularly for Gus, who felt humiliated and ashamed. His parents gazed sadly at him, feeling hurt and helpless. Their son would need some time to come to terms with being kept in the dark about their past. But he’d come round. Later. He was taking it hard now, though. “
Completely understandable, really—I would have acted the same if I’d been in his shoes
,” thought Pierre, trying to make himself feel better.

“We have to decide what we’re going to do about Orthon!” Brune Knut said suddenly in her incredibly deep voice, as she sank back in her leather armchair. “This is very serious.”

“What can we do?” said Marie.

“Not a lot, I’m afraid,” replied Abakum. “Informing the police is out of the question, they’d think we were mad.”

“Certifiable,” muttered Tugdual, in his corner.

“Or worse, we’d become laboratory rats in the hands of the scientists,” continued Abakum, ignoring the boy’s remark. “We all know that. It would certainly be difficult to take the children out of school.”

“And, anyway, it wouldn’t make any difference now that Orthon knows that Oksa has the Mark,” added Dragomira. “Look how he managed to track down some of us,” she said, indicating the list that she still held in her hand. “Unless we change identity and flee to the far ends of the earth…”

“We’ve already done so much running, and for what?” cried Pavel angrily. “We’re in even more danger than before!”

“No, we must stick together,” continued Dragomira, glaring at her son. “Stick together and remain true to ourselves and to each other. We must be prepared for the worst. We must join forces to fight Orthon and, most importantly, to defend Oksa. The fate of everyone here hangs in the balance.”

“But Oksa doesn’t belong to you!” roared Pavel, making everyone jump. “It isn’t up to you to decide her destiny. Stop yoking it to yours!”

“Pavel, please, this is neither the time nor the place,” replied Dragomira curtly.

“I’ll say it again: Orthon won’t harm Oksa,” said Leomido in a cracked voice. “He has a vested interest in keeping her safe. He wants the same as us: to go back to Edefia.”

“And that’s out of the question!” retorted Pavel.

He got to his feet and began pacing up and down some distance away from the group. From where she was, Oksa could see him perfectly. His face ashen, he kept glancing at Marie in despair. He looked so weary, so anguished. All because of that damned Mark. “
I should have kept quiet instead of showing it to Baba
,” she said to herself, chewing her lip. Finding out the secret of her origins had led to nothing but trouble and danger for her family. Edefia just created problems for them. And she, Oksa, the girl they now called “The Last Hope”, was only making a difficult situation worse. Despite the best efforts of the Curbita-Flatulo, fear and anger were forming a painful ball in the pit of her stomach. A ball which was swelling and swelling as it spread bitter bile through all the veins of her body. Then, like a raging storm, her distress overcame her resistance.

“IF THIS GOES ON, I WON’T DO ANOTHER THING!” she yelled, at the end of her tether.

The room rang with her words. She couldn’t bear being the focus of attention again so she jumped up from the sofa to make her escape.
But she was stopped by a mighty flash which suddenly illuminated the room, shaking the walls and ceiling. Particles of plaster showered down on her, covering her with white powder, while electric filaments began crackling and zigzagging towards the Runaways, although they never touched them. Marie screamed as a golden filament brushed past her face, bathing her in a ghostly light. Oksa froze, awed but not in the least afraid. She knew what this was. She recognized these sensations because she’d already experienced them. There was no doubt about it: the Ageless Fairies were there, inside her. She was hearing their voices deep within, close to her beating heart. But, unlike the other times, she wasn’t the only one to be aware of their presence: all the Runaways were witnessing this. It seemed to fill them with amazement.

“Don’t be afraid,” murmured Abakum, taking her hand, “they mean you no harm.”

“I know, I’m not afraid,” replied Oksa.

“What are they saying?” whispered Dragomira.

The filaments were still crackling around Oksa, who was about to answer her gran when she was lifted into the air by a phenomenal force. Marie put her hand over her mouth, her eyes filled with panic and fear.

“Oksa! Stop that immediately!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“She’s not doing it,” whispered Abakum. “It’s the Ageless Ones, they want to say something.”

Oksa didn’t fight it. Halfway up to the ceiling in the huge room she hung in the air, motionless and self-assured. Incredibly self-assured. The voice of the Ageless Ones spread through her, coupled with an unfamiliar feeling of strength and certainty. Suddenly the crackling stopped and the electric filaments vanished. All the Runaways stiffened and looked at each other. That’s when they heard a warm, enchanting voice which seemed to be coming simultaneously from inside them and from the four corners of the room:

In the next second, everything stopped and Oksa found herself back on the ground, feeling dazed but strangely calm. A myriad sparks were spinning around her. No one said a word; all eyes were on her face. Dragomira drew her granddaughter closer, put a hand on her shoulder and pressed gently to reassure her.

“Dushka,” she began.

But she broke off, too choked with emotion to continue what she was saying.

“Wow, that was something else!” exclaimed Oksa, brushing off the plaster dust. “Did you see that?”

“It would have been hard not to,” said Marie, with some difficulty.

She looked down and sighed deeply, as if to quell her mounting panic. Cautiously, Pavel put his hand on her arm. The immense anxiety they shared had brought them even closer.

“It was the Ageless Fairies, Mum,” explained Oksa, feeling drained by what had just happened. “I think they…”

For a brief moment, she searched for the right word. She couldn’t make up her mind between “are guiding me” and “are summoning me” when Gus, his eyes bright with excitement, broke in.

“…they know,” he said simply.

Oksa looked at him gratefully, glad that the friend she respected so much was back to his old self.

“Exactly, Gus,” said Abakum in agreement. “The Ageless Ones know who you are, Oksa. And, more than that, they know your power better
than anyone, better even than yourself. What just happened is
exceptional
: it’s the first time the Ageless Ones have ever spoken
directly
to more than one person at a time. It has never happened in the Insiders’ memory! And it’s probably a sign that they’re desperate. This is a cry for help, my friends.”

“I never thought I’d live to see this,” remarked Naftali. “The Ageless Ones… incredible… do you realize what just happened?”

“It is amazing,” added Mercedica, “but it’s also very worrying.”

“What does it mean?” asked Oksa, anxiously.

“Nothing good, I fear,” replied Abakum, looking sadly at Dragomira. “‘
Its might and the two Graciouses allied are the hope that can save the world and its heart
’ is what they said.”

“If we have to save the world, then it’s in danger! That sounds serious—”

“Particularly as the world in question may not just be Edefia.”

H
UNCHED ON THE STAIRS, HER ELBOWS ON HER KNEES
, Oksa was trying to control the waves of anxiety sweeping over her. Her blood was thumping at her temples, causing a blinding headache. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, briefly taking some time out from the world and everything around her—and, as a result, didn’t see the dark, shadowy figure slip right past her and stand motionless in the dark recess of the stairwell…

“I have to get a grip,” she groaned.

She felt the Curbita-Flatulo moving on her wrist and lifted her sleeve. The small bracelet-animal was squirming vigorously in an attempt to calm her down.

“I’m making a lot of work for you at the moment, Curbita,” said Oksa, gently stroking it.

She chewed a nail, then stood up and decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air. The night was pitch-black, the air was bracing and there was total silence. Just what she needed. She sat down for a moment in the deserted vegetable plot, unaware that the mysterious figure had followed her and was sitting a few yards away. Letting the stillness of the night wash over her, Oksa stretched out in the fresh, damp grass. She stayed there for ages gazing at the moon, which kept appearing and disappearing among the clouds. She was so lost in thought that it took her a few minutes to hear the sweet melody coming from the old cemetery behind Leomido’s
house. She sat up and listened: the voice was low, muted and terribly sad. Oksa shivered, more from cold than fear; even though it sounded less than inviting, her curiosity was aroused and took the upper hand. As usual. She turned round and noticed some small lights shining in the cemetery. She hadn’t been mistaken! Drawing nearer, she recognized Tugdual, leaning against a crooked, ancient gravestone covered with moss. He was dressed in his customary black, with a variety of strange silver necklaces around his neck. He had headphones over his ears and he was singing. A Polypharus was waving its luminous tentacles in time with the melancholy young man’s voice. It was a striking, beautiful and frightening sight. Tugdual looked up, revealing his dark, almost hostile eyes. The tiny diamonds in his ears and nostrils glittered in the darkness. Oksa was glued to the spot, fearing the intimidating youth’s reaction. But instead of rebuffing her, he beckoned her over:

“You can join me, if you want,”

“Er… I don’t want to disturb you,” murmured Oksa.

“You’re not disturbing me. Sit down,” he said, making room beside him against the gravestone.

Oksa swallowed with difficulty, but complied. “
Damn my curiosity
…
I’m far too inquisitive for my own good
,” she thought to herself.

“Do you like cemeteries?” asked Tugdual point-blank.

“Er, I don’t know; I don’t think so,” replied Oksa who, at that precise moment, felt like a prize idiot.

“I love them,” he went on. “I find them soothing. All that silence and stillness. People think I’m unhealthy, but they’re wrong, they don’t understand. All they see is the veneer I choose to show them, when all they have to do is look at what I
really
am! I mean, look below the surface.”

“Are you unhappy?” ventured Oksa, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

To her immense surprise, she realized that Tugdual was carefully considering her question before answering and he was clearly taking it seriously, so she felt less stupid.

“No, I’m not unhappy. At least, I don’t think so… I think it’s more that I don’t have a gift for happiness, cheerfulness, all that, you know.”

“But that’s awful!” exclaimed Oksa, genuinely sympathetic.

“No, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m happy or unhappy. I just don’t have any great expectations, that’s all.”

Oksa was upset by the young man’s words. Her shoulders sagged, as if bearing a heavy burden of sadness and compassion.

“I spent a long time wanting to have powers which would make me stronger than other people,” continued Tugdual. “I pulled out all the stops, I did everything I could.”

“My father told me about it,” admitted Oksa, grimacing at the memory of the vile potions drunk by Tugdual and his followers.

“When I found out that all these gifts were innate, I thought I’d achieved my goal. But I soon felt suffocated by the power, so I buried it deep inside me so that it would never see the light of day again.”

“But why?” exclaimed Oksa.

“Because power, lil’ Gracious, represents pure danger. Anyone who isn’t afraid of anything is invulnerable, nothing can stop them. It’s fear that makes men weak. But it’s also fear that makes them men. I mean human.”

“What about you? Aren’t you ever afraid?”

“Not really… that’s the problem,” admitted Tugdual, looking down.

Troubled by this strange conversation, neither of them said anything for a moment.

“What are you listening to?” asked Oksa to change the subject. “Satanic music?”

“No, I loathe that,” replied Tugdual, with a light laugh which lit up his pale face. “I listen to the most magnificent music ever. Music which is full of the tragedy of mankind and the profound meaning of life. Do you want to listen?”

With that, he gently placed his headphones over Oksa’s ears and she immediately understood what he’d meant. A glorious voice poured into her ears and then into her mind, flooding her heart and turning it inside
out. Was it because she’d had a really bad day? Or because of the words of the Ageless Ones? Or her argument with Gus? Or this poignant music? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she really wanted to cry. She restrained herself, shutting her eyes so tightly that she saw a multitude of little electric dots dancing in front of her. In the end, it was stronger than she was: a huge sob swelled and burst out in a loud throaty wail. Tugdual took off the headphones and put his hand discreetly on hers.

“Go on, lil’ Gracious, let it all out.”

“I’m finding things a bit hard at the moment,” she hiccuped, her face streaming with tears.

“I understand.”

The tears continued to flow, bearing her worries away with them and lightening her heart. Finally they dried and Oksa’s breathing became calmer.

“Tugdual?”

“Yes, lil’ Gracious?”

“Is there anything I could do to help you?”

“No,” he replied, looking even more melancholy than ever. “No one can help me. But thanks all the same. You need to concentrate on what’s going on at the moment and, above all, you must have confidence in yourself. The Ageless Ones are right: you’ll come out on top of all this. You’re the only one who can.”

This was unexpected, but Oksa attached more importance to the remark than she would have done if anyone else had made it.

“That Orthon-McGraw is evil incarnate, I just know it,” continued Tugdual. “And evil too often triumphs over good; it’s sad but that’s the way it is. Only you’re not like the others, I know that too. I realized it immediately, the minute I saw you. And I know how to spot that kind of thing, believe me. You will succeed.”

They stayed sitting against the crooked gravestone until Oksa’s feelings were completely under control. Then the Polypharus guided them back to the sleeping house, where they took leave of each other in peaceful
silence. The mysterious figure, which until then had been crouching, perfectly motionless, by the low wall of ancient stones, watched them go by, then stood up too in a fluid movement. There was a strange gleam of excitement mingled with anxiety in the depths of its eyes. Suddenly, a bird took flight in a loud clatter of wings. The figure turned its back on the house, stepped over the low wall and disappeared into the vast darkness of the night.