The Forest of Lost Souls (21 page)

A
TERRIFYING
WAVE OF DIZZINESS SWEPT OVER
O
KSA
as she was sucked into a blisteringly hot, dark corridor. A few seconds later she was standing beside her father and the other Runaways in the terrifying landscape buffeted by dusty winds that she’d glimpsed through the waterfall. Although the sight had been less than inviting, they hadn’t reckoned on the sweltering heat and awful stench. She covered her nose with her hand to try to block it out. Abakum handed round the Spongiphyles and the Runaways pressed the plants over their noses to filter out the fine dust that filled the air and made it almost unbreathable. Tugdual looked around and, narrowing his eyes, spotted a large rock.

“Come on! Let’s head for shelter!” he cried.

They followed the young man towards the makeshift refuge, their Spongiphyles pressed firmly to their noses.

“How can he even see that rock?” muttered Gus, drawing nearer to Oksa. “I can’t see a thing in this pea-souper.”

“Don’t forget he can see like a hawk with his Optiview power,” said Oksa, trying not to lose sight of Tugdual, whose slim figure she could barely make out.

She could hear Gus grumbling, despite the whistling wind. When would he accept who he was? She glanced at him in irritation, as she battled against the violent gusts that were hindering the group’s progress.
They finally reached the shelter of the rock, appalled at how grim this new level was.

“What a revolting smell,” said the Incompetent, raising its muzzle in the air. “It reminds me of something…”

“Bad eggs!” cried the Squoracle, emerging from Abakum’s jacket. “Yuck!”

And, protesting shrilly, it buried its tiny head again in the folds of fabric.

“Do you think we’re strong enough to get through this?” Leomido asked Abakum, looking anxiously at Reminiscens.

Abakum studied the old lady, whose face was pale and drawn with exhaustion.

“I’ll answer you with a question, my friend: do we have a choice?”

Oksa glanced at Pavel in fright at this exchange, but none of the Runaways, not even her father, looked in a fit state to reassure anyone. Fortunately, the rock sheltered them from the billions of sticky,
soot-like
particles blown almost horizontal by the fierce wind, but it didn’t stop the vile smell from working its way through the tiny holes in the Spongiphyles or lessen the heat that was sapping their energy. Even the Squoracle, a fan of high temperatures, appeared to be affected.

“We’re going to burn to death!” it squawked, which was no great comfort to anyone.

“Thanks for that, Squoracle,” replied Oksa. “I hope it’s not a premonition!”

“Huh!” retorted the tiny hen. “We’ll have to be very clever indeed to avoid being burnt to a crisp…”

It gulped loudly and crawled back inside Abakum’s jacket.

“What a good idea it was to bring water!” declared Gus. “What? Why are you all looking like that?” he asked in alarm at the sight of the Runaways’ ashen faces.

When he’d mentioned the water, they’d all turned to look at the Reticulatas which, a few seconds ago, had been full to bursting with the cool water they’d brought with them. Now, to their horror, the transparent
jellyfish were flat as pancakes: their valuable contents had drained away. The Runaways no longer had a single drop of water—which, in this diabolical furnace, spelt big trouble.

“Oh no—where’s all the water gone?” asked Oksa.

“Sorcery!” screeched the Squoracle frantically.

“We still have the fruit,” remarked Gus.

He rummaged around in his bag and the blood drained from his face: he pulled out his hand, which was covered with wriggling maggots thick as broad beans from all the fruit juice they’d gorged on. He cried out in disgust and shook off the maggots, which disintegrated as soon as they hit the ground and mingled with the dust. The Runaways plunged their hands in their bags in the hope of saving just one apricot or banana, but decay had already set in and there was nothing to be done.

“Oh well,” exclaimed the Incompetent languidly. “So long as we have water, we’ll be fine. Don’t they say where there’s water, there’s life?”

“But we don’t have any water, you feather-brained idiot!” shrieked the Squoracle from its place of shelter.

“Is that so?” asked the indolent creature in amazement. “Well, in that case, we’re all going to die,” it said as casually as if refusing a sweet.

“Thanks for spelling that out,” muttered Oksa, who was trying hard not to cry.

She clamped her Spongiphyle to her face in an attempt to hide her growing panic. She looked at the Runaways, who were all devastated by the harsh facts. Held up by Leomido, who seemed to have aged ten years in a few seconds, Reminiscens looked about to faint. Beside them, Abakum’s eyes were fixed on the ground, his face expressionless. Gus and Pierre were clinging to each other in shock. Tugdual stood opposite and his eyes, which didn’t leave Oksa’s face, held such a strange expression that she wondered if he’d realized the true gravity of the situation. Pavel was also watching her from the edge of the group. Plumes of white smoke were rising from his back, which alarmed Oksa. She crawled over to him on all fours to stay within the shelter of the large rock.

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“Well, I’ve certainly been better… I have to admit that my customary unbridled optimism has taken a bit of a hit.”

Oksa couldn’t help smiling. Optimism wasn’t a quality she’d ever associated with her father: it was completely foreign to Pavel’s tormented nature—he was more likely to be caught in the grip of unremitting pessimism.

“You’ve certainly got a lot to contend with,” confirmed Oksa, resting her hand on his arm. “I’m sure we’ll find a way out of this though.”

Her father retreated into a silence that spoke volumes.

“Anyway, I can’t believe we won’t!” insisted Oksa loudly, as if trying to convince herself. “Since we have no water and no provisions, we’d better not hang around here. We have to get moving.”

“Do or die. Is that it, Lil’ Gracious?” asked Tugdual, gazing at her with a faint smile.

“You can be sarcastic, if you want,” she replied defiantly. “But there’s no point waiting here to be reduced to a pile of dust, is there?” “You’re right,” nodded Abakum, standing straighter.

“But which way should we go?” asked Leomido. “We don’t know where we are!”

They gazed at the plain, which seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. The wind had dropped, making the dust less troublesome, but the landscape before them did nothing to allay their fears: the soil was barren and cracked from the intense dryness and covered with a layer of swirling dust. It looked like an endless desert, a parched, scorching, hostile expanse. Oksa cursed through gritted teeth. Suddenly her eyes gleamed: she bent her knees as if about to Vertifly, then her face tensed, and she looked disappointed.

“Aaargh… I can’t!” she said angrily.

“Vertiflying is impossible when the laws of gravity have been subverted, Young Gracious,” informed the Tumble-Bawler.

“The laws of gravity? Subverted?” repeated Oksa incredulously.

“Yes,” confirmed the Tumble-Bawler. “You may not realize this, but the laws of physics governing the Outside aren’t the same as in here. The Runaways who can Vertifly can try if they like, then you’ll see…”

At these words, Leomido positioned himself, straight as a poker, his arms flat against his sides. His friends could see how hard he was
concentrating
, but they were all disappointed: like Oksa, Leomido couldn’t Vertifly. Pavel, Pierre and Tugdual also tried, but in vain.

“Where’s the butterfly?” asked Oksa, looking around in annoyance.

The Runaways screwed up their eyes and studied the marbled sky, trying to spot the small insect. The fierce wind was now a more
bearable
breeze, despite the heat it brought with it, but the dark, threatening clouds continued to scud past at a terrifying speed, making it hard to locate anything in the sky.

“It must have been carried off by the wind,” remarked Gus.

“But we need it!” exclaimed Oksa.

“It’ll find us,” said Tugdual reassuringly. “It can’t miss us: we can be seen for miles in this desert.”

“There’s no such thing as miles here,” corrected the Tumble-Bawler, crawling out of Oksa’s bag, “because the unit of measurement here is way beyond human comprehension. This desert has no limits. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“If anyone has any other comforting information, then please go right ahead and tell us!” replied Oksa, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Young Mistress, forgive me for speaking out of turn,” apologized the Tumble-Bawler. “When I said this desert has no limits, I meant that it has none of the normal limits.”

“What do you mean?” snapped Oksa.

“I’m talking about horizontal limits, which are the ones we know best.”

“Does that mean there are vertical limits?” asked Oksa, her eyes gleaming with renewed hope.

“Affirmative, Young Gracious!” agreed the Tumble-Bawler.

“Above? Below?” continued Oksa.

“The way out may be up in the air or under the ground,” explained the small creature.

“Do we have to dig down?” asked Abakum.

“No point!” came the voice of the Squoracle, muffled by the cloth of Abakum’s jacket. “The passage will reveal itself when the time is right.”

“I hope that’s before we all die of thirst,” said Gus bitterly.

“If you don’t have any water left, you’ll die, that’s for sure,” said the Incompetent. “Where there’s water, there’s life,” it repeated lethargically.

“This affects you too, you know!” squawked the Squoracle. “Even large clumsy dolts like you need water to live.”

The Incompetent waited for this information to make its way into its brain and reacted a good thirty seconds later:

“Are you sure of your facts?”

Gus turned pale, before giving a nervous guffaw. His body shaking with laughter, he dropped his Spongiphyle and immediately grimaced.

“Yuck! That smell is revolting!”

“It’s sulphur, friend of our Gracious,” explained the Tumble-Bawler, darting over to pick up his sponge. “Protect yourself, it’s very dangerous.”

“So we can choose whether we die of thirst, poisoning or despair, that’s just great!” grumbled Gus, pressing the protective mask to his nose.

“You’re forgetting hunger,” added Tugdual.

“What do you mean, hunger?” yelled Gus.

“We can also die of hunger.”

Oksa glared at the two boys, upset and exasperated. Then she stood up, eyeing the blistering, endless expanse, and said resolutely:

“Well, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want any of us to die either! So get up and follow me. We’re going to find a way out of this horrible place, by hook or by crook.”

T
HE
R
UNAWAYS MADE SLOW PROGRESS THROUGH THE
scorching desert, particularly as there were no landmarks to show they were going the right way. The wind had dropped at last, but the dark incandescence of the sky gave the light a disturbing quality. The Barrens stretched away endlessly under the inky sky. The red-hot powdery soil on the ground was like sifted compost mixed with searing ash. Every step the Runaways took raised small clouds of black dust which stung their ankles like little sparks. They soldiered on, grimacing in silence, but the pain soon became unbearable. Oksa was the first to stop, her face
dripping
with sweat. With her hands on her hips, she breathed through her Spongiphyle, then bent down to undo her trainers so that she could use her laces to fasten the bottoms of her jeans around her ankles. She tied a bow then straightened up, feeling more positive. Tugdual smiled at her conspiratorially, then bent down to stuff his trousers into his ankle boots.

“How you can bear this revolting smell?” asked Oksa, noticing that he’d put his Spongiphyle in his pocket.

“Seems like my senses aren’t entirely ordinary…” he replied, gazing at her.

“Too right,” muttered Gus. “You’ve got the senses of a bat!”

Tugdual looked away with an amused smirk, which was at odds with the deep sadness in his eyes. Oksa stared at the two boys, her heart pounding. Why did they always have to wind each other up? It was so
annoying and confusing! But she couldn’t start trying to work out her feelings now. Their lives were at stake here in the Endless Barrens. “Get a grip, Oksa,” reasoned the girl, glancing at her two friends again. “You’ll have all the time in the world to think about this later—if you ever get out of this alive!” Then she turned round and continued walking.

The youngest members of the party proved to be the strongest: Oksa took the lead with Pavel. Behind them, Gus made it a point of honour to keep pace with Tugdual, whose easy stride showed his tremendous stamina. The other Firmhand in the group, Pierre, also seemed to cope better with the harsh conditions in the Endless Barrens than the others. “What an enviable ability,” thought Oksa, whose strength was failing with every step. But she was the Young Gracious, the heir to Edefia! She had to set an example and this thought, more than any other, motivated her. Bringing up the rear of the procession, Abakum kept his eyes on her. He could instinctively sense the girl’s highs and lows, her fluctuating thoughts. He knew she didn’t know what to do. Oksa often overlooked mundane details and didn’t keep her eye on the main objective, but the Fairyman had complete confidence in her. He knew she’d save them, as did they all. It was not just a hope now, it was a deep-seated conviction—a fact. It was important to remember that the Ageless Ones were watching over her. The only question was whether, acting together, they could hold their own against the evil power of the Wickedesses… The Fairyman’s eyes darkened. He straightened his shoulders, fixed his eyes on Oksa’s slender frame and kept walking. Despite his great age, he was coping with the terrible conditions incredibly well, unlike Leomido and Reminiscens. The old lady was physically very weak. This was one ordeal too many after everything she’d been through with the Runaways and the harrowing years of solitude during which she’d thought she’d be trapped for ever in the picture. It didn’t help that her feet were being scorched by the
dust on the ground, since the straps of her flimsy sandals didn’t offer much protection. Leomido hadn’t lost any time in wrapping her feet in the sleeves he’d ripped from his thick cotton jacket, but Reminiscens was weakening and her spirits were at an all-time low. She wasn’t even buoyed by the prospect of seeing her granddaughter Zoe again:
exhaustion
had the upper hand and hope was fading. She was leaning with all her weight on Leomido, who felt her weakening with every step. He also felt disheartened and was focusing all the courage and strength he had left on the woman he’d never stopped loving.

“I’ll carry you…” he panted hoarsely.

Reminiscens didn’t make any protest. She didn’t even have the strength to answer. Leomido looked at her in despair, then looked away, unable to bear her sorrowful expression. Behind them, Abakum clenched his fists, feeling helpless and excluded.

“How long have we been walking?” Oksa asked her father.

Pavel shrugged to show he didn’t know and stopped himself from asking another question: how long could they keep going in these
hellish
conditions? He held Oksa’s hand, which was boiling hot. All the Runaways were burning up. They were trying not to think about it, but the lack of water was becoming critical. Only the Incompetent made no effort to banish the thought from its flabby brain.

“Could someone just give me a drop of water?” it said. “I’m dying of thirst…”

“We all are!” replied Oksa sharply.

“Just a small glass of cold water, if it isn’t too much trouble,” continued the creature, oblivious.

“With a straw and some ice, of course,” snapped Gus in irritation.

“Oh, that would be lovely!” replied the Incompetent enthusiastically. “Thank you, friend of the Young Gracious.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Gus, scuffing the dusty ground. “I’ll bring it over in a minute—but only if you shut up!”

It took the Incompetent a few seconds to understand what Gus
had offered: it watched him with its large, bulging eyes and covered its mouth with both hands to stop any words from emerging. Then it waited patiently for its glass of water… unless it had forgotten it. Which the Runaways hadn’t! They were all suffering in silence and doing their best to conceal the panic that was starting to undermine their morale. A few more hours at this pace and they would die. They kept walking and walking, stopping just to doze on the baking, dusty ground. Their reserves of energy were becoming fatally depleted. According to the Tumble-Bawler’s estimates, they’d been walking through the Endless Barrens for over three days in temperatures averaging forty-five degrees centigrade—or the equivalent on the Outside—which was an
extraordinary
feat. Reminiscens and Gus were the worst affected by this ordeal and were a pitiable sight. With dry lips and dark circles under their eyes, they were finding it increasingly difficult to put one foot in front of the other. Leomido had accepted Abakum’s help and the two were taking turns to carry Reminiscens, who was struggling to catch her breath. Every time they did, though, the effort took more out of them. Pierre and Pavel were giving Gus piggybacks, since he was only a Runaway by inclination, not birth. This cruel ordeal had made them aware that descendants from Edefia had a distinct physiological advantage and they all tried to help the “Outsider”. They didn’t have much strength but, despite their extreme weariness, everyone agreed that Gus took priority. They began collecting the sweat pearling their foreheads and Oksa gathered the steam continually escaping from her father’s back to obtain a few droplets of water through condensation, which she trickled into her friend’s mouth.

“I’m so ashamed…” murmured Gus, hiding his head against his father’s shoulder.

“Stop pretending you don’t want it!” scolded Oksa, trying to hide her concern.

They kept walking, dragging their feet more and more, their eyes redder and redder, their feet covered in blisters. They were aching all
over. Without any water to drink, they were perspiring less and less and becoming severely dehydrated. The desert stretched away around them, unchanged, although the foul, acrid stench had almost disappeared and the ground was now full of the cracks that the Squoracle had described, which made their advance even more dangerous for their exhausted bodies. Time dragged and the hours stacked up. Or was it days?

When Oksa stopped, they all silently followed suit, relieved at the chance to rest, even though it wouldn’t do anything to alter their situation.

“I can’t go on,” groaned the Young Gracious.

Gaunt with weariness and hunger, the dusty Runaways gazed at her. Their clothes were just dirty rags, their hair was tangled and the soles of their shoes scorched by the burning earth. Filled with despair, Oksa raised her arms to the sky in a pleading gesture and shouted:

“Help us! Please!”

No one could avoid seeing her filthy T-shirt rise up over her stomach and reveal the magnificent Mark around her belly button. The
eight-pointed
star glittered with a thousand amber glints against Oksa’s skin, drawing all eyes. Suddenly Abakum, who was bowed with exhaustion, began humming quietly, then the sound of singing filled the air:

“What’s that?” asked Oksa, surprised.

“The Runaways’ Anthem,” replied Leomido, moved to tears. “We wrote it when the Mark was revealed to you.”

And, to raise his spirits, the old man also began to sing along with Abakum.

Pierre’s guttural voice joined in with those of the two men, and then Pavel began singing along hoarsely too.

The Runaways started to walk again in time to the beat of the song, its optimistic words filling their hearts with courage. Oksa was trembling with emotion. Her surprise had given way to embarrassment and she felt
awkward at being honoured so highly. She strode ahead with crimson cheeks, feeling deeply moved. How many people could say they’d had an anthem written for them? But did she deserve that kind of respect? She didn’t think so. She didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes, despite feeling extremely proud.

“Edefia will be ours again one of these fine days, for that is Oksa’s will,” sang Tugdual softly, coming up alongside her.

“Oh, stop teasing me!” she said.

“I’m not.”

“Well then, if you’re any kind of a friend, you won’t ever mention it again, okay?” she said.

“Whatever you say, Lil’ Gracious… even if I’m not convinced that it’s a good idea to pretend something isn’t happening when it is.”