The Heart of Two Worlds (13 page)

B
UZZING LIKE A LARGE INSECT,
D
RAGOMIRA’S
T
UMBLE
-Bawler hovered above Gus and Oksa, who were standing motionless in front of the mirror, and declared:

“The Young Gracious is now sixteen years, two months and thirteen days old; she’s five feet six inches tall and weighs eight and a half stone. Her waist is—”

“Enough, Tumble!” broke in Oksa, before it could tell everyone all her intimate details. “Let’s move on to Gus.”

He groaned, murmuring: “Mercy!”

“As you command, Young Gracious!” said the little creature. “The Young Gracious’s friend is now sixteen years, seven months and twenty-eight days old. He’s five feet nine inches tall and weighs nine and a half stone. Do you want any further details?”

“No, thanks, that’ll do just fine,” said Oksa tonelessly.

Feeling awkward, she moved nearer the mirror and touched her reflection with her fingertips—it looked both strange and familiar. It was her… and someone else. Her figure was more rounded and better-defined and there was a different, more intense, expression in her eyes. With one hand she brushed back her chestnut hair, which was now shoulder-length. Before this, she’d occasionally imagined herself older. She’d cast herself as blonde or brunette, curvy or slender, sporty or smart, as if playing a computer simulation game. But, as far back as she
could remember, she’d never hoped to look like this girl in the mirror. She felt dizzy with excitement. She liked her reflection, but it was too soon to feel that it belonged to her. It had all happened too quickly. In the mirror, she smiled shyly at Marie, who was staring at her.

“You were already a babe, but now…” came Tugdual’s voice behind her.

She didn’t dare turn round, so she just watched him approaching in the mirror.

“We’re almost the same height!” he remarked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck. Still, he didn’t move any closer, as if he didn’t want to frighten her. Only his ardent eyes held hers in the mirror. A strange heat spread from his hands into the Young Gracious’s heart. Instinctively, her eyes strayed to Gus who was watching Tugdual with cold fury.

“You’re really not that tall,” he said sarcastically.

“No, I’m not that tall,” replied Tugdual. “But what are a few inches between friends?” he added, edging a fraction closer to Oksa.

Gus curled his lip and glared at him. Meanwhile Oksa was registering the “new” situation: it was as if Gus had caught up with Tugdual in every way within the last few hours. There was now nothing between them. In their own way, whether they liked it or not, they had the same qualities and the same weaknesses: devastating charm, a bad temper, discerning intelligence and a dark, tormented side. And they both made her heart race.

“It’s all happening too fast,” she muttered.

She looked like a young woman now, which was extremely unsettling. She wasn’t sure what to do with those curves and that expression in her eyes. And the changes inside were even more overwhelming. Her emotions were so much stronger! The timid feelings she’d had when she was fourteen were long gone. Right now, she was battling two huge, conflicting urges: to give herself body and soul to Tugdual and to bury her head in the hollow of Gus’s shoulder for ever. How could she be having such thoughts? Who was she now?

Aware that she had no control over her emotions, Tugdual dropped a feather-light kiss at the base of her neck. Immediately she blushed. It was as if every powerful feeling she’d had “before” was now ten times stronger. Her big grey eyes stared at Tugdual in the mirror with an excitement she understood and felt, but couldn’t admit was hers.

“You’re gorgeous, Lil’ Gracious,” Tugdual murmured in her ear.

The shiver that ran down Oksa’s spine wasn’t missed by either Gus or Tugdual, who tightened his grip, kindling what felt like a raging fire in Oksa’s veins. He led her back towards Marie, who was waiting for them in the other half of the room. Oksa couldn’t help looking round.

“Think very carefully about what you’re doing,” said Gus miserably.

The words felt like a dagger blow to Oksa’s heart, severing it in two.

“And don’t try pulling your old trick of starting a storm!” cried Gus, twisting the knife in the wound. “You need to take responsibility for your actions now. You’re no longer a child.”

I
T WAS TIME TO GET BACK TO THE EVEN MORE PRESSING
matter of the Runaways and the two worlds. Oksa glanced out of the window at the moors in the gloomy daylight. The small group seemed to be on the first floor of the Felons’ home, so there was an unimpeded view. The wind had dropped, but unsettling black streaks cut across the sky like deep scars. The sea was crashing against the rocks, sending up huge plumes of grey water. In the distance, the Gargantuhens were stretching their legs, their feathered heads ruffled by sea spray. The mood was as miserable as the landscape. Only Orthon looked shockingly pleased with himself.

“I’d urge you all to have a hearty lunch!” he suddenly remarked.

Dragomira glanced at him warily.

“He’s right,” said Abakum quietly. “We need to build up our strength after such a long and difficult night.”

Although Oksa wouldn’t have admitted it for the world, she felt as though she could eat a horse. She was absolutely starving. Her churning stomach was so hollow that it felt as though she hadn’t eaten for a couple of years!

“You’re my guests, when all’s said and done,” continued Orthon.

“Oh, why don’t you give it a rest!” retorted Reminiscens in exasperation.

“Yes, enough is enough,” added Dragomira sourly.

Orthon smiled mockingly and opened the door. He and Mercedica
filed out into the stone corridor, followed by Pavel pushing Marie’s wheelchair and the Runaways walking either side of Oksa and Gus. Their old clothes had been uncomfortably tight, so both of them had been forced to borrow things from Runaways, who were about the same size. Oksa was wearing jeans and ankle boots that had belonged to one of Leomido’s granddaughters and Tugdual had insisted on lending her a black hoodie. Gus had categorically refused to wear anything owned by his rival and had gratefully accepted a khaki wool sweater and rough grey canvas trousers from Cockerell’s son. Walking shakily with stiff, aching limbs, the two friends were still getting used to their new bodies. Oksa kept glancing imploringly at Gus, but he kept his distance with an exaggeratedly cool expression and flushed cheeks. His eyes were fixed on Abakum’s back in front of him, and he seemed determined to keep looking straight ahead. As the group walked downstairs, Oksa felt herself getting increasingly wound up at Gus’s feigned indifference. She jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow but he didn’t react.

“Look at me!” she hissed.

“I’ve already said you’re very pretty,” replied Gus, staring straight ahead. “What more do you want?”

“It isn’t that!” snapped Oksa. “Look at me. Please…”

“In memory of our former friendship, you mean?”

Oksa sighed irritably.

“Leave me alone, Oksa,” Gus said at last. “I hope I’ll get used to it. You have no idea how hard this is for me.”

“I know…”

“No, you don’t,” interrupted Gus, disappearing into the kitchen.

This quiet conversation really upset Oksa. Observantly, Marie wheeled herself over and took her hand.

“Are you OK? You look a bit miserable.”

“I’m so mixed up, Mum.”

“It’ll take a bit of time for things to work out,” said Marie softly. “Both of you have experienced some very drastic changes.”

“You need to stay focused, Oksa-san,” added Pavel solemnly. “There are some hard times ahead and we mustn’t forget that three of you now have a sword of Damocles hanging over your heads.”

They were the last to enter the vast kitchen, where four tables had been laid and were groaning under the weight of steaming pies, salads, cheeses, brioches and hot drinks. Although the lavish spread was hot, the atmosphere was chilly. The two groups had taken care not to mingle and everyone was eating with feigned relish in a silence broken only by the sputtering of a large stove. When Oksa came in pushing Marie’s armchair, they all held their breath. Although Gus’s conspicuous entrance a few minutes earlier had prepared them, they were all startled by the Young Gracious’s changed appearance. She looked round the room. Gus was studiously ignoring her, pretending to be engrossed in his mug of hot chocolate, so she didn’t hesitate when Tugdual signalled to her. Without really knowing why she felt disappointed, she manoeuvred her mother’s wheelchair over to Tugdual and sat down beside him.

“How’s my Lil’ Gracious?” asked Tugdual quietly, pouring her a huge cup of tea as black as coffee.

“Thrilled at being reunited with her mother!” replied Oksa. “Other than that, she feels very strange.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not a bit! I’m not sure how you can grow as fast as this with virtually no pain. I’m just a bit stiff and achy, that’s all. The growing pains I had were much worse than this—insane, isn’t it?”

“It’s certainly not the type of thing you experience every day… Hey, did you realize that you’re only seven months younger than me now?”

“Is that all?” asked Oksa in surprise.

“So… how do you see the future now you’re sixteen years, two months and thirteen days old?”

“Honestly? It’s a nightmare, particularly when I think about what’s waiting for us and the dangers we’ll face if we don’t succeed. We’ll need to find Edefia, which is like looking for a needle in a haystack.
And even if we find it, we have to get in, then find a Diaphan so that Gus and I can become true Werewalls—if we haven’t died in agony beforehand. Then we have to pick some Lasonillia for Mum in the Distant Reaches. And that territory is, as its name suggests, a long way away and very hard to get to. Then, we have to find the Cloak Chamber before Orthon does and save the two worlds. Piece of cake!” she said sarcastically, with a frown.

“The Runaways certainly don’t do ‘simple’,” remarked Tugdual. “And the Pollocks are the worst offenders of all!”

“You’re not kidding!”

She took a large bite out of a huge sugar-topped brioche so that no one would see she wanted to cry. Around her, everyone was silently concentrating on their lunch and occasionally glancing furtively at the enemy clan. The only light relief was provided by the chirruping Ptitchkins which were flying loop-the-loops above Dragomira’s head. The Lunatrixes were busying themselves at the stove, doing their bit as the “domestic help” with the assistance of the other creatures, which were desperate to show their solidarity.

“Oh, this warmth is bliss!” clucked the Squoracles, pressed up against the toaster.

“Hey, chicks, you’ll singe the feathers off your wings, sniggered one of the Getorixes. “I’d pay good money to see bald Squoracles, ho ho ho!”

The Squoracles flapped their wings indignantly.

“Your words achieve the conjuring of a temperament full of jeering,” remarked Dragomira’s Lunatrix, squeezing oranges.

“You said it, my friend,” nodded the Getorix, skipping around in a state of nervous exhaustion.

The Lunatrix suddenly stopped in mid-movement. From where she was sitting, Oksa saw him freeze, still holding a tea towel. His two puzzled companions looked at him, and the Getorix jerked on his apron to snap him out of his trance. Eyes bulging, Dragomira’s faithful creature finally roused himself and shuffled towards his mistress.

“What’s wrong, my Lunatrix?” asked Baba Pollock, concerned by his translucent complexion.

The silence grew even more oppressive.

“The Old Gracious along with her friends, and her enemies, must take reception of a piece of information bursting with importance,” announced the Lunatrix.

He appeared to be hesitating, so Dragomira urged him to continue.

“A notification has performed an appearance in the mind of your domestic staff,” said the small creature eventually. “My Old Gracious, the Definitive Landmark has made the gift of its revelation.”

A low murmur rose among the ranks of the Runaways. Most of the Felons looked incredulous.

“The Portal has completed delivery of its access,” continued the Lunatrix, “and your domestic staff is now in possession of the knowledge of its location accompanied by precise geographical directions.”

Dragomira went white and looked so devastated that the Runaways were surprised. Oksa was more taken aback than anyone. When Abakum leant towards his old friend and gazed deep into her eyes, Dragomira nodded her head gravely. Then she stood up heavily and announced in a choked voice:

“The Guardian of the Definitive Landmark has spoken: the Portal has appeared, Edefia and the Insiders await.”

“I
F YOU THINK WE’RE GOING TO FOLLOW YOU LIKE CRINGING
lackeys, you’ve got another thing coming!” thundered Orthon.

“Well there’s absolutely no way we’re going to let you go ahead of us,” replied Dragomira. “Anyway, we share a common destiny and you know it, so why don’t you stop pretending to be so hard-done-by! We’ll go together and you’ll follow wherever I lead and that’s final.”

Baba Pollock banged her fist on the table in front of a furious Orthon. The two enemies stared each other down for long seconds.

“I don’t trust you,” stormed Orthon.

“Nor I you, if you want to know the truth,” retorted Dragomira. “Anyway, you have the medallion so that makes us equal.”

Orthon pulled a face.

“That’s as may be. But permit me to acquire an additional insurance policy!”

With these words he swiftly grabbed the Lunatrix, who turned transparent with surprise. Pavel and Naftali threw themselves at Orthon to stop him, but Gregor and Agafon were already barring their way. The Runaways immediately took out their Granok-Shooters and stood facing a serried line of Felons who’d reacted exactly the same. Impulsively, Tugdual rushed at Orthon, like a cheetah pouncing on its prey, knocking
over Mortimer and seizing the terrified Lunatrix by the waist to return him to Dragomira.

“You’re wasting precious time,” cursed Baba Pollock, glowering at Orthon. “When will you realize there’s no point fighting? We’re equally matched in numbers, after all.”

With that she bent down and picked up her Lunatrix, who was trembling violently, and strutted out, leaving her half-brother white with rage.

“Well, Dragomira? Where is the Definitive Landmark?” asked Abakum.

“I don’t know yet,” confessed the old woman. “But my Lunatrix will soon tell us!”

The small group of Runaways was at the top of the Felons’ house, in the turret overlooking the roof. Cockerell and Olof were standing guard at the foot of the staircase leading to the small lookout tower.

“We’re listening, my Lunatrix.”

The small creature opened his eyes incredibly wide, took a deep breath, almost suffocating himself, and finally divulged the precious information in a whisper:

“The Definitive Landmark has broadcast the location of the Portal into Edefia. The Old Gracious and the Young Gracious, their friends, the Runaways and their enemies, the Felons, must effect a removal to the Gobi Desert, forty-two degrees north, one hundred and one degrees east. The Portal has established the fixing of its position on the west side of Gashun-nur.”

Tugdual immediately began tapping on the keyboard of his mobile and, after a few seconds, provided more information.

“Gashun-nur is a lake about twelve miles south of the border between China and Mongolia. The River Xi flows into it and a small road runs around it.”

The Runaways felt a mixture of relief and apprehension on hearing
this information. The Portal had been located at last, but it sounded like it would be difficult to get there, to say the least…

“It’s a long way from here,” remarked Oksa, sounding worried.

“Four thousand, four hundred and two miles to be precise,” said Tugdual, consulting his screen.

Oksa whistled between her teeth.

“Will we get to the Portal in time? And there’s another thing: Lunatrix, you’ve said before that the Definitive Landmark, which will allow us to find the Portal, isn’t fixed. Will it change position before we get there?”

The Lunatrix cleared his throat and shifted from one leg to the other.

“Edefia is at the edge of the world and the Definitive Landmark experiences mobility, that affirmation is absolute. But your domestic staff provides the confirmation: the phoenix is awaiting the arrival of the Two Graciouses at the locational exactitude indicated by your major-domo, in other words the Gobi Desert, forty-two degrees north, one hundred and one degrees east, on the west side of Gashun-nur. The phoenix will evince patience for a duration of twelve days and twelve nights. Once this time has been consumed, the Portal will cause the disappearance of the Definitive Landmark and the phoenix, like the two worlds, will experience permanent disappearance.”

Pavel cursed softly. The Runaways felt light-headed with panic. The future was taking shape…

“We should probably get going then, shouldn’t we?” murmured Oksa, after a long silence.

“Let’s wish ourselves luck, my friends,” said Abakum, speaking with emotion. “We’re going to need it.”

Clustered around Dragomira, the Runaways on one side and the Felons on the other, they all listened carefully to information that was vital for their next move.

“So we only have twelve days to travel 4,000 miles and find the Portal, is that what you’re saying?” asked Agafon, breaking the heavy silence that had followed Dragomira’s announcement.

The Old Gracious nodded unblinkingly.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know any more than that!” broke in Orthon.

“I have all the necessary details,” replied Dragomira stiffly. “But I’m not going to give them to you. You’ll find out when the time is right.”

Orthon clenched his fists and glared at her. Then he held out his palm commandingly towards Mercedica and, without looking at her, ordered:

“The medallion, please!”

Seconds passed but Mercedica didn’t move a muscle. Irritated, Orthon turned to her.

“The medallion, Mercedica!” he repeated in a steely voice.

The haughty Spanish woman jutted her chin.

“The medallion no longer belongs to you, Orthon,” she said, glaring at him. “It’s mine now.”