The Heart of Two Worlds (19 page)

She coughed. The words were stuck in her throat, but she eventually managed to ask hesitantly:

“Are you in love with me?”

Gus stood still as stone. Only his accelerated breathing gave him away.

“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice, looking straight ahead. “How could someone as brilliant and brave as me be interested in
someone like you? Honestly! Take a good look at yourself, you’re dull, ugly, boring, thick and you have absolutely no sense of humour. Who’d want you apart from your ‘Swedish crow’?”

Oksa would have burst out laughing if Gus’s anguish wasn’t so obvious in those bitter-sweet words. During the embarrassing silence that followed, Gus studied the abandoned village for no good reason and Oksa took advantage of the moment to put her hand on his arm. He feebly tried to shake it off. Then, without thinking, she turned to him and gently kissed the corner of his mouth.

T
HE WATERS OF
L
AKE
G
ASHUN-NUR SHIMMERED IN THE
eerie, dramatic glow of the Definitive Landmark. An ominous gangrene-like darkness was gradually spreading across the sky from Saihan Toroi, while the crackle of occasional flashes of black lightning broke the silence of the desert and startled the travellers.

The sun was going down behind dark bands of thick fog by the time the Runaways and the Felons arrived at the lake shore. Orthon had been driving his bus flat out, frantic with impatience. Everything he’d been working for and had dreamt of—his revenge—was at last within reach. The minute the buses stopped, he leapt out like a big cat and positioned himself beside the radiant Definitive Landmark, ready to meet his destiny. Surrounded by the members of both clans, a trembling Dragomira approached in her turn. Oksa and Abakum took her hand. Baba Pollock and the Fairyman were crying silently and their emotions were so raw they were almost palpable.

“Old Gracious, Young Gracious, their Runaway friends and their enemy companions should receive the information that the opening of the Portal is encountering imminence,” informed the Lunatrix standing before Dragomira. “The phoenix of the Young Gracious is signalling its approach. When the meeting has been accomplished, the medallion
will make disclosure of the song concealed within its depths and the Two Graciouses will have to articulate the incantation with harmony to implement the opening of the Portal.”

Dragomira teetered. Abakum held her up and put his arm under hers to provide more support.

“Are you all right, Baba?” asked Oksa softly.

Dragomira smiled sadly. Oksa felt giddy. Her gran suddenly looked so old…

“Here we are at last, dear sister!” whispered Orthon, triumphantly waving the medallion in the air.

Without deigning to give him a look or a word, Dragomira held out her hand for the medallion. She slowly turned it over in her fingers, examining it before gazing up at the sky, which was turning a mottled black. The medallion opened with a soft click, then a mechanism began working and some engraved words slowly appeared on the worn gold. Oksa waited for a sign from Dragomira.

“Time makes urgent expression for action,” reminded the Lunatrix.

“Give me a moment, my Lunatrix,” entreated Dragomira, sounding choked. “Just one minute…”

One by one, she hugged all her friends, paying particular attention to Abakum and Pavel. When only Oksa was left, she walked over to her with dragging feet, eyes brimming with tears she was struggling to hold back. She hugged Oksa hard.

“Everything will be fine,” said Oksa reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’re going back to Edefia, your Lost Land, Baba!”

Dragomira went to stand behind Oksa and put her arms around her. In the unbroken silence, the Definitive Landmark gradually disappeared, slipping slowly below the waters of Gashun-nur. The lake acquired an indescribable hue, which seemed to come from the bowels of the Earth.

“The phoenix…” gasped Reminiscens.

Oksa looked up. A fabulous creature with blood-red feathers was growing noticeably larger, its broad, powerful wings steadily beating the air.

“It’s so beautiful!” declared Oksa quietly.

The phoenix flew over the heads of the Runaways and Felons and landed at Oksa’s feet. Although its wingspan was as large as an eagle’s, it was much more flamboyant, as if every feather were formed of fire and gold, and its small eyes burned with the intensity of molten lava. The delicate plume on the bird’s small head swayed as it bowed respectfully. Oksa knelt down and reached out her hand to stroke the fantastic creature, her face alight with exaltation.

“What… what do I do now?” she asked softly.

Dragomira hugged her even tighter. Oksa felt her gran’s heart beating hard, which scared her. Trembling, the old woman held out the medallion so they could both read the incantation appearing on it.

The atmosphere was horribly tense as a few seconds ticked by. Then the phoenix suddenly took off and flew west over the dunes towards the setting sun. It slowed to turn its head round to look at Oksa and its song filled everyone’s hearts as it disappeared into the twilight.

O
KSA HAD PICTURED THIS MOMENT THOUSANDS OF
times. Even though it was different every time, it was always filled with magic, excitement and a spirit of pure adventure. However, when she saw the Runaways and Felons being sucked randomly into an invisible void, she realized that this was nothing like she'd imagined. Screams of panic rang out until suddenly silenced by the frontier between the two worlds. She felt herself torn from Dragomira, as if her hand had dissolved in hers, and saw Orthon, Naftali, Tugdual and Gregor pass through the Portal, but none of the Outsiders. Her heart turned to ice. Her father shot her one last panicked look before he was separated from Marie and disappeared into what looked like a black hole. Then an implacable force took hold of her too.

Eyes wide, unable to control her body, she let herself be drawn inside. She saw herself pass through a golden corona of light, which reminded her of the ethereal outline of a ghost. Then, a moment later, she crashed down onto another sand dune, which looked exactly the same as the one she'd just left, except that the light was much brighter. Many of the Runaways and Felons were there, looking dazed but alive. Her father, Abakum, Naftali… they all gazed at her miserably. They'd succeeded, but the price they'd paid was unbearable.

“Mum…” groaned Oksa, her hand over her mouth.

Her whole body was trembling with shock. It was heartbreaking—everyone's worst fears had been realized: the Outsiders hadn't made it. But when Oksa saw everyone staring at something behind her, she felt a terrible sense of foreboding. She whirled round and screamed in despair.

“Baba! No!”

The golden corona they'd all passed through was still there. Despite its hazy contours, they could all recognize Dragomira's upright figure and her plaits fastened in a crown around her head. Oksa collapsed onto the sand, her heart in pieces. The corona swayed and seemed to want to come nearer. Oksa held out her hand, filled with the foolish hope that everything would be all right and she was just having a nightmare. But she knew she was awake—this wasn't a nightmare, it was harsh reality.

“Baba—stay with us, please!” she wailed.

Her entreaties and tears did nothing to alter the inevitable. Dragomira vanished in a gold mist, surrounded by the Ageless Ones, bearing her up into Edefia's stormy sky.

O
KSA FELT AN ARM AROUND HER SHOULDER.
P
AVEL
was sitting beside her, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Is Baba dead?” she whispered, still in shock.

“Her power as a Gracious made it possible for the Portal to open,” replied Pavel, sounding choked. “As it opened, your gran’s spirit left us to join the Ageless Ones.”

“I’ll never get over it…”

Oksa dissolved into tears, her body racked with violent sobs. She couldn’t believe fate would be so cruel. She ran to the top of the dune, where the Portal had materialized and then disappeared immediately after. Edefia’s pale shimmering mantle was now visible, although faint. As soon as Oksa drew near this very real frontier, she found that some kind of invisible force was preventing her from going any farther. Blinded by grief, she tried to push against it but was unceremoniously hurled back down the sand dune. She sat up. The Runaways had successfully accomplished their mission and had rediscovered their lost land, but they’d paid a heavy price for it and no one knew if this sacrifice would jeopardize the rescue of the two worlds.

Oksa lay on the cold sand, the aching pain in her heart obliterating everything that made life worth living. Everything that made life… good. Dragomira, her Baba… The grandmother who’d been with her since birth, who’d guided her and supported her. The grandmother who’d taught her everything she knew about her inner magic. How could she have disappeared like that? Oksa sensed someone beside her. It was a white-faced Abakum with Dragomira’s Lunatrix. The Fairyman opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was choked with grief, unable to speak. The small creature with huge eyes put his chubby hand on Oksa’s forehead to soothe her.

“My Young Gracious…”

His complexion was ashen, as if every drop of blood had left his veins.

“The Old Gracious has made abandonment of her fleshy and bony presence. Her domestic staff, reduced to the Lunatrix before you, now encounters the completeness of belonging to the New Gracious.”

Oksa looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“You’re… my Lunatrix.”

She looked away to avoid crying again.

“The heart of the New Gracious is stuffed with suffering, like that of all the Runaways, their Felon companions and your domestic staff. Have you the wish to share a few words?”

Oksa shook her head.

“Grief can’t be shared,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could.

“The presence of your domestic staff is an assurance wrapped in permanence. The moment chosen by the New Gracious will for ever be in accordance with the moment accepted by your Lunatrix steward.”

A heavy silence descended. All that could be heard was the quiet sobbing of clan members who’d left behind loved ones on the Outside. Oksa couldn’t even picture the people she might never see again. Everything had happened so fast. Everything had gone so wrong. She gave a low moan. Eventually, her mother’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. She
looked surprised and horrified at seeing her family and friends pass through the Portal, abandoning her on the threshold of this new life. And what about Gus? She recalled the light in his eyes as she’d brushed his lips with a kiss. He’d been on cloud nine… She thought back to the last words they’d said to each other, to Gus’s desire to know what she felt for him and the harmless emotional blackmail which had felt more like unfounded scaremongering than a serious threat. Oksa imagined them eaten up with anxiety, wandering aimlessly in the middle of the Gobi Desert. Tears filled her eyes again. What would become of them? Would they be lost for ever? Would they survive the disasters? Suddenly the Lunatrix who’d been sitting on the sand, his little legs stretched out in front of him, said in a tremulous, but determined voice:

“You must hold fast to the firmly moored certainty that only death brings about the non-consolation of hearts. And no death entails no lamenting. When death has not made its selection of the living, then hope experiences survival. The remembering of this truth must never be gone from your minds.”

Oksa straightened. She glanced miserably at the bleak desert stretching out around her and gave the creature a resounding kiss on the cheek.

“You’re wonderful, my Lunatrix! Thank you. You’re right, anything is better than death. But Baba—”

Her voice caught in her throat again.

“The opening of the Portal caused the demise of the Old Gracious, but her soul is in the magical company of the Ageless Fairies, who are now her species, and her future will elevate her towards a role full of amplitude and power.”

The Incompetent waddled over to them. With its snout in the air, it was wearing its usual clueless expression, which Oksa loved so much.

“I don’t understand a word that strange individual said,” he said, looking at the Lunatrix.

All the creatures were clustered behind him. Although they looked sad, they were determined to show their solidarity with Oksa, who’d
just tragically become their sole Gracious. A Squoracle fluttered over and gave her the small gold cage Dragomira had been wearing around her neck a few minutes ago.

“The Ptitchkins!”

Oksa released the tiny birds, while the Squoracle curled up in her hand and said:

“Even though I’m relishing the relatively balmy temperatures of this place, I must tell you, my Gracious, that I share your sorrow. But the Lunatrix is right: only death matters. Your mother, your friend and all those who were unable to pass through the Portal are stronger than you think.”

“Your domestic staff makes the addition of advice garnished with importance,” broke in the Lunatrix. “You must achieve the conservation of a conviction: you are the Gracious and your powers will encounter multiplication and expansion.”

“The Secret-Never-To-Be-Told…” murmured Oksa.

“The Secret-Never-To-Be-Told no longer exists,” objected the Squoracle.

“Thanks for crushing our hopes!” grumbled the Getorix, gesticulating wildly.

“But the Secret-That-Is-No-Longer-A-Secret may undergo evolution in the direction of a variation,” added the Lunatrix.

Oksa took her time absorbing this stream of information, and her eyes widened. There was still a chance, a slim, but not insignificant, chance—one last hope. She looked at her father, his head in his hands, Abakum, Zoe, Tugdual… the Runaways and Felons devastated by the awful ordeal they’d just lived through. Then she wiped her dirty, tear-streaked cheeks furiously with the back of her hand and said in ringing tones:

“I understand, my Lunatrix: where there’s life, there’s hope. And the opposite is also true: life cannot exist without hope!”

The Lunatrix nodded wisely. Oksa rose to her feet and hugged him tightly. Hope was all they had left, but it was the only way they’d survive.