Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope (47 page)

The blood drained from Abakum’s face when he said that. His eyes clouded with bitterness and for a few seconds he gazed into space.

“I don’t know why he did it,” he continued sombrely. “But what we do know for sure is that he wants the Portal open and, for that, he needs to find a way past us to get at Oksa. We’re dealing with someone who is extremely ambitious and cruel.”

“And totally power-mad!” exclaimed Gus angrily.

“Exactly,” agreed Abakum.

“But for goodness’ sake, we can’t blame him for wanting to return to Edefia!” remarked Mercedica, with a hint of bitterness. “Why is it okay for us to want to go back and not him? I think you’re being very harsh, dear friends.”

The Runaways stirred in their chairs and murmured in disapproval.

“Permit me to say that I’m surprised at your leniency, my dear Mercedica,” retorted Abakum, struggling to suppress his irritation. “We’re not questioning his desire to return to Edefia, just the reasons behind it and the appalling methods he uses! Yes, we all want the same thing, but it’s Orthon—and no one else—who poses a serious problem for us today.”

Dragomira buried her face in her hands with a groan and her Lunatrix, who’d been curled in an armchair since the beginning of the discussion, rushed over and patted her shoulder. Oksa stared wide-eyed at her parents and then Gus, her heart thumping. This was certainly a sensational story.

“I have a question.”

“Yes, Oksa?”

“Edefia is invisible from the Outside… so how do you plan to find it again?”

“T
HAT’S AN EXCELLENT QUESTION
, O
KSA,” REPLIED
Abakum after pausing for a few seconds. “And one which has been our biggest concern over the years. A concern which is even more pressing now we hold some of the keys allowing us to return to Edefia.”

Dragomira nodded with a sad smile and took over from Abakum, looking mainly at Oksa and Gus:

“Abakum is right. My mother had many qualities and some of them proved fatal for her, as you know. But even though her all-too-trusting nature was disastrous for Edefia and for all of us, she’d fortunately
confided
a number of things to me before our escape. Otherwise it would be totally impossible to find our land ever again. It was a few days before I was to enter the Cloak Chamber, which should have made me the new Gracious. I didn’t know that the Chaos had already begun. The Elzevir had been stolen and the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told revealed to its usurper.”

“What’s the Elzevir?” Oksa asked immediately. “You’ve never
mentioned
that before.”

“The Elzevir is a kind of logbook. It’s made by the Ageless Fairies, then given to the brand-new Gracious on the day she enters the Cloak Chamber. It’s a crystal sheet on which the Gracious notes all the major stages of her reign using a diamond pencil. The Elzevirs function as the
Gracious’s Archives and are kept in the Memorary on the top floor of the Glass Column. As I said, Malorane’s Elzevir disappeared
mysteriously
from the Memorary. The person who benefited most from the theft was none other than Ocious, as you might imagine… From what I know, he was given a great deal of help by an accomplice in Malorane’s immediate circle, a vile traitor who plunged us into the Great Chaos, damn him to all eternity. I didn’t know this when I was bombarding my mother with questions a few days before our flight. Abakum told me all these details a few years later and that’s when I understood why she’d given in so easily. For many years, I was angry with myself for pestering her as much as I did. But now I don’t regret it. Perhaps it was instinct that prompted me… or that prompted my mother to tell me her secrets. Because, despite the oath she’d taken in the Cloak Chamber, she told me the biggest secret of all: that the Graciouses could open the Portal of Edefia and pass through to the Outside. I don’t know if you can imagine how shocked I was—I’d never imagined anything like it. Like everyone, I knew that the Graciouses could send their
consciousness
to the Outside. But actually leaving Edefia! Unimaginable. When I realized that Ocious also knew this, I knew how serious it could be and what it could mean to certain people. It was only when I was on the Outside, though, that I really understood the importance of that secret and my mother’s mistake. To answer your question, Oksa, the Portal of Edefia will only open if the Gracious orders her Phoenix to activate it. ‘How?’ you may ask. Every Gracious has a Phoenix which is born—or reborn—from the ashes of the former phoenix when the Mark appears. This legendary bird is one of the two key elements for opening the Portal: its song activates the Portal as the Gracious utters the incantation inscribed on a Medallion that is handed down from Gracious to Gracious. It’s as simple as that. My mother then explained that inside the Chamber is a recreation of the universe. It contains a small-scale moving model of the planets, stars and comets in space. The most interesting of these is, of course, the Definitive Landmark: Edefia’s
position in relation to the universe and the Earth. How I’d have loved to see that,” added Baba Pollock with a deep sigh.

She fell silent and closed her eyes. Hanging on her every word, they’d all been listening with intense concentration, but no one dared to show how impatient they were to know the rest of this fascinating story. Oksa was the first to try and attract her gran’s attention by gently squeezing her hand. Dragomira reopened her eyes, struggling to shake off her memories.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I was miles away… did you want to say something, Dushka?”

“Yes, Baba: if no one has any information about Edefia’s location, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack! Mission impossible.”

Dragomira listened gravely, then her mouth curved into a faint smile and her eyes sparkled.

“The Medallion isn’t a problem,” she said, bringing out the pendant she wore on a gold chain, safely hidden beneath her dress.

“Wow! Really? Is that Malorane’s Medallion?” exclaimed Oksa.

“Yes, Dushka. I’ve never taken it off since the moment my mother put it around my neck. Anyway, you must have noticed it, when I showed you the day of the Chaos on the Camereye.”

“Yes, of course!” exclaimed Oksa, smacking her forehead with the flat of her hand. “Baba, that’s brilliant. Will you show me the inscription?”

Dragomira’s face clouded over and she gazed at the Medallion
desolately
before handing it to Oksa.

“But… Baba? There’s nothing on it,” remarked the Young Gracious, turning the piece of jewellery over and over in her hand.

“That’s right, Dushka,” said Dragomira sadly. “However, all hope isn’t lost, because it’s highly likely that the inscription is only revealed when the Phoenix appears. Anyway, that’s our continuing belief.”

“But how do we find the Phoenix?” continued Oksa, handing the Medallion back to her gran.

“There’s no point looking, sweetheart. The Phoenix will come to you. It’s as easy as that.”

“Is it already born? Or ‘reborn’, if that’s more correct?” continued Oksa.

“Yes. Your Phoenix was born from the ashes of mine the day the Mark appeared on your belly button,” replied her gran.

“So that means someone in Edefia may know that there’s a new Gracious?”

“That’s entirely possible,” agreed Dragomira. “The Ageless Fairies, in any case, were well aware that it had happened.”

All kinds of feelings assailed Oksa, making her mind whirl. She shivered at the image of a Phoenix flying to her. Red as a beetroot, her cheeks glowing, the Young Gracious was breathing loudly, her chest tight with excitement. A crazy idea formed which she couldn’t help voicing.

“Why don’t we go there now?” she cried loudly.

Dragomira looked at her with a sad smile.

“No, Dushka, we’re no more able to go there now than the last time you asked. You said it yourself, remember: we have no idea where Edefia is.”

That reminder immediately dampened Oksa’s enthusiasm and dashed the hopes of the more optimistic Runaways. Dragomira’s Lunatrixa went over to her mistress and tapped her politely on the shoulder to show her sympathy.

“Our Old Gracious?” called the small creature in her high voice.

“Yes, Lunatrixa, what is it?”

“I have already given my conviction to the Young Gracious and I am going to make the repetition to this gathering,” she said, staring at the Runaways with her huge blue eyes. “Gracious Malorane had naïve trust in the nature of mankind and the words you have given are fitting: her mistake brought chaotic consequences down on all of us.”

The Lunatrixa sniffed deeply before continuing.

“But the thoughtlessness of her mind didn’t form an impediment to anticipation.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dragomira, frowning.

“Gracious Malorane entrusted the secret of the Definitive Landmark to some person.”

The Runaways looked at each other in amazement.

“You mean that…
someone knows
where Edefia is?
” murmured Dragomira, a hand over her mouth.

“My confidence in this conviction was filled with hope but it was also very reserved. It was my Lunatrix who gave me the gift of confirmation.”

All eyes instantly turned to the Lunatrix, who was making cheese and ham toasties on his ironing board. Sensing he was the focus of attention, he stopped and his pudgy face flushed a strange deep purple.

“My Lunatrix, would you come over here, please?” invited Dragomira.

“Yes, Old Gracious?”

“I’m going to ask you a very important question. Do you know where Edefia is?”

Baba Pollock’s voice was hoarse and trembling. An unsettling silence, broken only by the rapid breathing of the members of the group, descended on the room.

“Edefia is along the world and the knowledge of the Landmark is retained with precision in my brain, yes, Old Gracious,” replied the Lunatrix simply.

“Good Lord! And you never said anything?” exclaimed Dragomira.

“The promise was vouchsafed to Gracious Malorane that only
necessity
would release information about the Landmark.”

“And what is this necessity?” asked Oksa breathlessly, her cheeks scarlet.

The Lunatrix turned to her and bowed respectfully.

“Necessity means the time when destiny will favour the taking of this decision,” replied the Lunatrix calmly. “Giving the Landmark if the time is not right will lead the Runaways into mistakes and failure. And you must absorb the acceptance of this information: knowing the Landmark today is useless.”

“How will we know the right time?” asked Oksa.

“The Ageless Fairies will give the signs that will enlighten our Young Gracious. They have already initiated contact with you, this is the truth.”

“Yes, that’s true,” acknowledged Oksa. “What about the Medallion? Do you know anything about it?”

“The conviction of the Old Gracious is shrouded in correctness. The Lunatrix possesses the mystery of the opening with the Medallion: the inscription will reveal its words when the time meets the appropriate occasion.”

“Very sensible… but how do you know all this, Lunatrix?” asked Oksa, her voice sounding hoarse with emotion.

“The Lunatrix has the knowledge of all the secrets imprisoned in the depths of the hearts of the Graciouses,” explained the Lunatrix. “All the secrets.”

T
HE
R
UNAWAYS WERE FLOORED BY THIS ASTOUNDING
revelation. Everyone was talking agitatedly at once. What an incredible piece of news! And what a relief that someone knew how to find Edefia. Dragomira’s Lunatrix! Who would have thought that the Definitive Landmark, the only way to relocate their lost land, was safe inside the head of that whimsical little creature? The prospect of
returning
to Edefia was more real now than it had ever been. Particularly for Oksa, who was overflowing with enthusiasm.

“I’m ready!” she said enthusiastically to her gran and Abakum. “I know so much more now.”

“Yes, there’s no doubt about that,” replied her gran calmly. “I think we can all understand your impatience. But
look at us
. Some of us are old folk.”

“Old folk who could flatten the world boxing champion,” remarked Gus.

“Old folk who can fly,” continued Oksa in the same tone, “hurl people yards away, manufacture amazing substances… old folk who could have the world at their feet if they wanted!”

“Yes,” admitted Dragomira, “but, above all, old folk who are far from being warriors and who aren’t ready, physically and mentally, to
confront
anyone. And, more importantly, old folk who don’t know whom they’ll have to confront—I’ll say it again: this kind of venture cannot be undertaken lightly.”

“Forgive me,” said Naftali suddenly, who had kept silent until then. Everyone turned to look at the Swedish giant whose emerald-green eyes held an expression of great intensity. He clasped his hands together in front of him and darted Brune a look of mingled regret and anxiety. She placed her hand on his forearm encouragingly and gave him a resigned smile.

“Forgive me,” he repeated, “but since this appears to be the time for revelations, I have something to tell you—something very important that you should know about Orthon-McGraw.”

Leomido stifled an annoyed sigh, which wasn’t lost on Oksa. Her great-uncle certainly did react oddly at times. Feeling her gaze on him, he shot her an anguished look and immediately lowered his eyes.

“What do you want to tell us, Naftali?” asked Abakum in amazement.

“I want to tell you about the Secret Society of the Werewalls,” he replied staring at the Fairyman.

“The Werewalls?” breathed the latter, disconcerted. “What do you know about the Werewalls?”

Around the table, Brune and Dragomira darted troubled glances at each other, while Leomido’s face darkened. Oksa looked questioningly at her father and mother, but they didn’t seem to know any more than she did. The Bellangers appeared equally puzzled. As for Tugdual, the phrase “Secret Society” seemed to have caught his attention.

“First of all, I need to go back nine centuries,” announced Naftali, taking a deep breath, “and tell you about the Diaphans, who are inextricably linked to the Werewalls, as you’ll soon realize. Up until the twelfth century, there were five tribes in Edefia, not four: those you already know, plus the Diaphans. The Diaphans had always lived apart from the others, not far from the Distant Reaches, the most inaccessible territory in Edefia. There weren’t many of them, only about fifty in total. These taciturn and unsociable beings, who lived by their own rules in an autocratic society, appeared to be peaceable, if somewhat unfriendly, neighbours. I say ‘appeared’ because the nature of the Diaphans was actually rather
gruesome. In 1145, the Ageless Fairies cast the Confinement Spell, which condemned the Diaphans to an isolated existence in the hostile territory of Retinburn, a place where the stones glittered so brightly that no one could be exposed to their glare without being blinded on the spot. However, the perilous nature of the area actually formed the basis of this Confinement Spell—from that time onwards, the Diaphans couldn’t survive outside this incandescent place. The glare from the rocks became essential for their survival. If they strayed too far, the Diaphans ran the risk of being literally extinguished. Over the years, their metabolism adapted to these new living conditions. The entire surface of their bodies became covered with a thick layer of grease which protected their epidermis from the intense light. Their skin, which was already very pale, turned translucent, showing their black veins and hearts. Their faces were reduced to their simplest form: a membrane formed over their eyes, giving them a strangely opaque gaze; their noses virtually dissolved, leaving two small slits as nostrils; their mouths shrank and the outer part of their ears disappeared so that only the auditory canals remained.”

“They sound like extra-terrestrials,” remarked Oksa, pulling a face.

“Yes, not far off,” confirmed Naftali.

“But why did the Fairies cast a Confinement Spell on them?” continued Oksa. “Was it a punishment?”

“Yes, it was,” admitted Naftali. “The male Diaphans had a horrible vice. Since they felt no love for their own kind, they’d become expert hunters, specializing in a very particular kind of hunt: the love hunt.”

“What does that mean?” asked Oksa.

“Stop interrupting him the whole time and let him speak,” grunted Gus.

“The love hunt,” continued Naftali, “was simply the means by which these males, who were incapable of experiencing love themselves, stole other people’s passionate feelings. For this, they’d travel in the utmost secrecy to Green-Mantle, Peak Ridge or Thousandeye City, where they’d seek out men and women of all ages who were in love. They would then
hypnotize them and take possession of their feelings by inhaling them, which earned them the name of Snufflers. For many years, no one was able to explain this strange phenomenon. It was called Beloved Detachment because suddenly, overnight, people stopped loving the man or woman they’d been madly in love with the night before. And no wonder: their capacity for passion and love had been stolen from them for all eternity! In the years before the Ageless Ones stepped in, Edefia was held in the grip of an obsessive fear. No one knew exactly what was going on, so people spoke of a Love Plague and the leading Granokologists tried to invent substances to combat this terrible affliction. However, they met with no success. One day Coxo, the most ravenous of the Snufflers, was caught red-handed: he’d just seized the love of the Young Gracious who was due to be married a few days later. The game was up for them and the Diaphans were for ever banished to Retinburn.”

“That’s sickening,” grimaced Oksa.

“Diabolical,” added Tugdual.

“Coming back to the Werewalls: everything began with Temistocles,” explained Naftali.

“Temistocles was a Firmhand who was born in 1516 and died a
violent
death in 1648, as you’ll find out. He was a dedicated scientist, who focused his research on the properties of rocks and minerals. His work led to great advances in medicine using stones, but his research didn’t stop there. He soon moved on from chemistry to alchemy, particularly transmutatory alchemy.”

“What’s that?” asked Marie in a small voice.

“Simply put, transmutatory alchemy is the transformation of one
material
into another. The Outsiders were of course passionately interested in the transformation of base metal into gold. However, in Edefia, the Firmhands could already perform that kind of miraculous feat, because they possessed the ability to transform certain rocks into diamonds. Temistocles wasn’t particularly interested in immortality, which was also one of the great utopian dreams for alchemists. What fascinated him
was our frontier, that mantle of light which no one had ever managed to cross. This was his ultimate dream, his life’s work: to pass through that frontier. His constant search for new materials led him to take an interest in the shining rock of Retinburn. A Diaphan, seeing that he was struggling to get near the rock because it was so bright, made contact with him. It was over 400 years since the Diaphans had seen a living soul! This Diaphan provided his providential visitor with fragments of the blindingly bright rock. Temistocles called it the Luminescent Stone and researched it endlessly, convinced that he had an exceptional material in his hands. And he was right. Shortly afterwards, the Diaphan, aware that Temistocles represented an unexpected opportunity, offered him a deal he couldn’t turn down: he would tell him a secret about the transmutation of matter in exchange for a young person’s feelings of love. When he heard this, Temistocles rushed to Peak Ridge, drugged a young man who was about to be betrothed and brought him back to Retinburn. The Snuffler went about his awful business, forever depriving the boy of passion, and, in exchange, revealed the secret of the Diaphans: Coxo, the ancestral Snuffler, had developed a fabulous formula which made it possible to transform matter into particles! You can imagine Temistocles’ delight—after years of research, his work had just taken a gigantic leap forward.”

“You mean he wasn’t bluffing?” asked Oksa in amazement. “The formula really existed?”

“Yes, Oksa,” replied Naftali simply.

“You… you wouldn’t happen to know the ingredients, would you?” asked the Young Gracious.

“Actually, yes I do.”

Dragomira couldn’t help crying out in surprise. Around her, the Runaways shifted uneasily on their seats, taken aback by these revelations and yet impatient to know more.

“The formula given to Temistocles that day by the Diaphan was incomplete; the centuries had taken their toll on memory. The Diaphan
was in no doubt about the first two ingredients: a cube of Luminescent Stone measuring one and a quarter inches across plus 4.2 fluid ounces, or 125 millilitres, of the blood of the person concerned. The third ingredient was much less exact: it was a plant whose roots, stems and leaves had to be crushed and which acted as a catalyst for the previous two ingredients. Then the Diaphan decided to present Temistocles with the fourth ingredient: a small phial of inestimable value.”

“What was that?” asked Oksa, holding her breath.

“After snuffling up the loving feelings of their poor innocent victims, the Diaphans experienced a period of euphoria. Strangely this state caused a black, viscous substance to flow from what remained of their noses. And the little phial which was given to Temistocles contained the vile tarry substance collected from the nostrils of Coxo in person, 400 years earlier.”

“That’s disgusting!” cried Oksa.

“Fascinating,” added Tugdual.

“Gross!” added Gus. “It makes me think of ‘the love hormone’.”

“What’s that?” asked Oksa, narrowing her eyes.

“Scientists are studying the phenomenon closely: apparently, when you fall in love, the body secretes a stimulating hormone, which is similar to certain hard drugs. People can even sometimes get totally hooked on it and that sounds like what happened with the Diaphans, doesn’t it? And the most amazing thing is that the body is capable of locating this hormone by smell.”

“That’s incredible,” remarked Oksa.

“You’ve hit the nail right on the head, Gus,” added Naftali. “The problem was that the Diaphans had become hooked on the human love hormone.”

“But why do you say that Coxo’s ‘substance’ was of inestimable value?” went on Oksa. “What made it more valuable than any produced by the other Diaphans?”

“Coxo was an inventor of genius,” replied Naftali.

“A crazy sorcerer, you mean—a psychopath!” broke in Dragomira. “I read a few articles about him in the Memorary. He was totally
unscrupulous
and capable of boundless cruelty.”

“That’s true,” continued Naftali, defensively. “When I say genius, it’s just because he succeeded where everyone else had failed. I’m not denying that he was a contemptible man, but he was the first person to master transmutation. When Temistocles continued his quest, 400 years later, it took him a few years of relentless hard work to reach his goal.”

“He discovered the missing ingredient in the end?” suggested Oksa. “It was a Goranov, wasn’t it?”

“How did you know that?” asked Gus.

“A plant which acts as a catalyst, Gus, remember…”

“Oh yes, of course!”

“You’re right, Oksa,” nodded Naftali, “it was a Goranov.”

“But that’s sacrifice!” cried Oksa indignantly. “That’s revolting… the poor Goranovs! Did Temistocles kill many?”

“You can be sure of it,” confirmed Naftali. “Until he finally mastered the composition of his elixir, called the Werewall, which reduced the body to particles so that it was permeable to solid materials like stone, wood, metal, etc.”

“You mean this Werewall allowed people to walk through walls?” asked Oksa, stunned.

“Exactly,” replied Naftali, as all his friends exclaimed in amazement.

“A way of walking through walls,” murmured Gus. “Can you imagine what an awesome ability that would be?”

“Yes, Gus, it’s an incredible gift,” agreed Naftali. “But Temistocles didn’t stop at that. After his great success in passing through stone walls, windows, sheets of metal and solid rock, he tried to cross Edefia’s mantle—which is what he’d wanted all along. But he struck a wall, make no mistake. A wall of light against which his elixir, despite being
ultra-powerful
, was no more effective than a glass of water. The alchemist was
bitterly disappointed at this, and the defeat almost destroyed him. But he hadn’t lost all hope, so he made the last-ditch attempt which ended up killing him: entering the Cloak Chamber to discover the solution to his problem. Of course, he didn’t know about the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told, but he instinctively knew he might find some interesting clues in there. One night he slipped inside the Glass Column, avoiding the guards by using his Werewall elixir, and entered the legendary Chamber. What did he find? No one knows, because what came out was a horribly deformed, mindless shell of a man: Temistocles was dead. A few months later his only son, who had helped his father in his research in the last years of his life, secretly founded the Secret Society of the Werewalls and the tradition was carried on. In the gloom of an underground passage in Retinburn, the Society brought together some of the leading chemists in Edefia. Dressed in long robes and masked by cowls, which showed only their eyes, these chemists became alchemists to advance their common cause, driven by a fierce desire to pass through the mantle of light. But, Oksa, to answer your question about the phial given to Temistocles, you should be aware that Coxo experimented on himself extensively, which ended up drastically altering his DNA. And if I tell you that he was the father of human shape-shifting, you’ll understand more easily why the small phial given by the Diaphan to Temistocles possessed such singular value.”