The Forest of Lost Souls (23 page)

T
HE
R
UNAWAYS STOPPED LAUGHING WHEN THEY SAW
some twenty Leozards advancing on them. Although the creatures were too heavy and dozy after their long sleep in the dry fissures to move very fast, the sight of their raised crests bristling threateningly made their blood run cold. Oksa felt weak at the still-vivid memory of the Leozard’s stinking muzzle above her.

“Run!” she screamed, whirling round to take to her heels but, to her great surprise, her father held her back by the arm.

“There’s no point.”

“Why not? Surely we’re not just going to stand here and wait for them?” she stammered.

“We’ll stay and fight, Lil’ Gracious!” exclaimed Tugdual, ready to attack. “We’re Runaways, aren’t we?”

“Didn’t you see how hard it was to kill just one?” she screamed,
panicking
. “Granoks don’t work, we can’t Vertifly and we’re all exhausted… We’re going to die!”

“You don’t usually give up so easily!” mocked Tugdual.

Oksa glared furiously at him, cut to the quick.

“Come on, Oksa, don’t forget your inner ninja,” murmured Gus.

Her friend’s encouraging words—in striking contrast to his
panic-stricken face—instantly made her feel cross with herself for being so defeatist. She had a few powers at least—Gus had nothing. His life depended on his friends.

“Your Fireballistico was pretty effective, wasn’t it?” he continued. “And maybe the Incompetent and its devastating humour could cause those monsters to die laughing!” he added, his sarcastic tone tinged with despair.

Oksa sniggered nervously, sick with worry.

“Stop it, Gus! That isn’t funny. The poor Incompetent versus the Leozards! Can you imagine what an unfair fight that would be?”

“Many a true word spoken in jest, Gus,” said Abakum. “Don’t forget the Incompetent isn’t just a harmless clown…”

The Fairyman turned towards the creature, which was still gazing at the charred remains of the Leozard, and whispered in its ear. The Incompetent raised its large eyes, then nodded before turning to face the army of Leozards advancing on the Runaways. Abakum and Leomido stood either side of the Incompetent, while Pierre and Tugdual took up their positions at the sides, forming a shield to protect Reminiscens and Gus.

“Oksa! Stand behind the Incompetent and use every single power you have in your arsenal!” advised Abakum, wand in hand.

A shadow fell over the group: Pavel’s Ink Dragon had just spread its wide wings above their heads. Oksa raised her eyes and saw that her father had become part of the belly of the bronze dragon whose slowly beating wings had sprouted from his shoulder blades. Pavel looked her straight in the eye and gave her a sad, impenetrable smile. The sight
radiated
an impression of power and reassuring invulnerability that made Oksa’s heart swell with courage. She assumed the ninja position, right leg bent in front and left leg locked straight behind. Then, with her arm outstretched, she fixed her gaze on the Leozards, which were now only about a hundred yards away.

“Throw everything you can at them, Oksa!” cried Gus. “I’ll repay you one day, I promise!”

“You’d better,” muttered Oksa between gritted teeth.

“Get ready!” screamed Abakum so that he could be heard above the din of the shrill, hungry cries from the approaching Leozards. “NO MERCY!”

If the green, crested monsters thought they’d soon be feasting on human flesh, they were about to be disappointed, because the Runaways had no intention of giving in without a fight. As soon as the Leozards were close enough for the Runaways to see the terrifying gleam in their baleful yellow eyes, Oksa and her friends showered them with powerful Knock-Bongs made all the stronger by their terror. The Leozards in the front line were propelled backwards and came crashing down on the heads of the Leozards behind.

“Watch out!” cried Abakum. “They’re coming back!”

Some of the Leozards had struggled to their feet and were again
lumbering
towards them, furious at this unexpected setback, their appetites whetted by the promise of a delicious meal. While Oksa, Leomido and Pierre concentrated on attacking them with the most powerful Knock-Bongs ever seen, Abakum and Tugdual made intensive use of fire. The Fairyman used his wand like a blowtorch and Tugdual launched endless Fireballisticos at the creatures, aiming at their weak spots: eyes, ears, muzzle and abdomen. This was a fight to the death. A wave of energy flooded through every vein of Oksa’s body, an unstoppable surge of strength and violence which made her powers seem endless. She’d never felt so brave or strong or invincible. She aimed the palm of her hand at the biggest Leozard and the monster flew nearly 300 feet through the air to come crashing down like a deadweight on another of its kind. The two creatures exploded on impact, their putrid guts spurting out through the remains of their green hides.

“Brilliant! Keep it up, Oksa!” yelled Gus encouragingly.

Oksa glanced at him and staggered, feeling weak and dizzy, as if the last Knock-Bong had drained all her strength. Gus noticed his friend swaying and looked at her warmly.

“Come on, Oksa! Concentrate! This is no time to go all wobbly on me. Give it some wellie!”

“It’s all very well for you to say, but those monsters weigh several tons,” she muttered.

She turned back to face the Leozards and Gus sensed she was
mustering
all her strength to continue fighting. With an even more powerful Knock-Bong than the last, Oksa sent two Leozards crashing into each other so hard that the monsters’ razor-sharp teeth were knocked from their jaws. The Young Gracious bent over, hands on knees, to catch her breath. She soon straightened up, though, and renewed her efforts, despite her exhaustion. Above the small group, Pavel and his Ink Dragon were carrying out an effective air raid, dive-bombing the Leozards and blasting them with searing flames. The rearguard were doing what they could too. Gus was picking up all the stones he could find to pelt their attackers. “Pathetic,” he thought in frustration, as the stone he’d just hurled bounced off the scaly hide of one of the Leozards. “Still, it’s better than nothing.” Beside him, despite her weakened physical condition, Reminiscens took everyone by surprise when she caused one Leozard to meet with an unexpected fate: holding out her arm towards one of the vile creatures a few yards away with her hand open wide, she hooked her fingers like the talons of an eagle about to seize its prey and turned her wrist as if trying to wring out a piece of wet material. The Leozard’s head, which seemed to be in the grip of some invisible force, twisted round until it was at right angles to its body. The growling Leozard struggled futilely, then collapsed with a death rattle, head lolling to one side, its neck broken. Reminiscens, her forehead dripping with perspiration, gave Gus an exhausted smile in answer to his whistle of admiration.

“Wow, classy or what!” he said in wonderment.

“Thanks, lad,” murmured the old lady, before sinking onto the dusty
ground.

“Will you be all right?” asked Gus, kneeling beside her.

Reminiscens nodded and looked over at her friends’ backs, tense with the huge effort of neutralizing the threat of the Leozards. Leomido’s hunched shoulders clearly showed he was weakening, which seemed to worry Reminiscens. There were only five Leozards left, but they were the five toughest creatures. The Runaways’ defences were crumbling, but the five monsters kept advancing, their gaping mouths stretched in hideous smiles. With the aid of Tugdual’s Fireballisticos, Abakum pointed his wand at the largest Leozard, the one that, right from the start, had been able to withstand all the flames, explosions and knockout blows. This creature instinctively seemed to defend itself better than the rest: it arched its back and pulled its head into its horny hide so that only the thickest, toughest areas of its anatomy were visible. The flames licked over the creature’s armour and Oksa’s Knock-Bong only propelled it backwards five or six yards. Above the battlefield, Pavel seemed to be tiring: his Ink Dragon’s wings were beating slower and slower, causing it to list drunkenly in the mauve sky like some immense bird in distress.

“Incompetent!” whispered Abakum, looking completely exhausted. “The ball’s in your court!”

The Incompetent looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, I’m not very good at ball games, you know,” it replied lethargically. “And that odd spiny creature doesn’t look like much fun to play with.”

“SPIT AT IT!” screamed Abakum.

Oksa looked at Abakum in amazement, while the information
gradually
sank into the Incompetent’s brain.

“Stand back!” the Fairyman advised his friends.

“I’m spitting now!” the small creature informed them.

Without further ado, the Incompetent began projecting billions of droplets of saliva at the five Leozards, which were foaming at the mouth with rage and hunger. When the first drops landed on the largest Leozard, it started writhing in pain, its hide smoking as though attacked
by a strong acid. Holes began appearing in its thick protective carapace, disintegrated by the corrosive spittle. Wide cavities formed, giving off an acrid stench and lumps of flesh, guts and muscle fell to the ground.

“I’m spitting again!” announced the Incompetent, as laid-back as ever.

This time, the shower of droplets landed on the four other Leozards, whose flesh dissolved in the fatal acid rain in a matter of seconds. When all that remained of the Leozards was a few skeletons bleached white by the acid, the amazed Runaways looked at each other.

“Wow, that was something else!” exclaimed Oksa, hands on hips. “Why did you wait so long to do that?” she asked the Incompetent, not sure whether she was furious with the slow-witted creature, or whether she wanted to throw her arms around it and smother it with grateful kisses.

The Incompetent looked at her.

“I don’t know what I’ve eaten, but I think I may be suffering from acid reflux,” it said in amazement.

“You don’t say!” laughed Oksa. “Anyway, promise you’ll never spit at me!”

“Spit at you? Why on earth would I do such a thing?” replied the Incompetent.

“Our friend may be a little slow on the uptake but, luckily for us, it’s very obedient,” explained Abakum, coming over to the Incompetent to congratulate it. “It only spits to order.”

“That’s a relief!” smiled Oksa happily. “Anyway, we didn’t do too badly ourselves, did we?”

There was a general feeling of relief. Sitting on the drying ground, the Runaways looked at the impressive remains of the Leozards, which had been disembowelled, burnt to death or smashed to smithereens. They were soon joined by Pavel, whose Ink Dragon had retreated back inside him. He sat down beside Oksa.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, Dad, that was some battle! Did you see my amazing Knock-Bongs?”

“I did indeed. This may well go down in history as one of the most
heroic fights ever recorded,” said Pavel, holding back a smile. “The brave Runaways against the barbaric Leozards… It looked pretty impressive, particularly from the sky!”

Oksa snorted with laughter and glanced at Gus.

“You fought really well, Oksa.”

“Thanks for all your encouragement.”

“Don’t mention it!”

Tossing back his long black hair, Gus winked at her. Oksa immediately felt more cheerful. She’d thought she’d lost her best friend, but he was back, and that was all that mattered. But she couldn’t ignore Tugdual and the unsettling effect he had on her. She couldn’t help turning round. When she met his steely-blue eyes, she flushed crimson, cursing her involuntary reaction and the pain she was causing Gus, who looked hurt. He stood up, kicking a stone and turning his back on them all.

“Right!” he said curtly. “I presume we don’t intend to stay and rot here for ever. We ought to get moving.”

He strode off into the Endless Barrens, leaving a trail of little clumps of mud behind him. The surprised Runaways were watching him walk away when, suddenly, he disappeared into the deeply fissured ground.

“G
US!”
SCREAMED
O
KSA
.

Pierre leapt up with a bear-like roar and ran towards the fissure which had just swallowed his son, jumping over others forming in the now unstable ground. The Runaways followed at a speed that nearly cost Reminiscens dearly. Despite Abakum’s loving care, the old lady’s feet were still very sore and, after leaping over a newly formed fissure, she landed heavily. She gave a moan of terror, waving her arms frantically to stop herself toppling backwards into a bottomless abyss. Leomido grabbed her waist in the nick of time and pulled her back from the edge.

“Gus! Are you there?” called Pierre, kneeling by the fissure.

He could just make out his son’s frightened, muffled voice. It sounded so far away that every single Runaway paled.

“I’m here, Dad. Do something, please!” Pierre looked up at his friends in despair.

“Hang in there, Gus! We’ll get you out!” cried Oksa.

Crouching or lying beside the fissure, which was barely three feet across, they tried to make out Gus’s silhouette. They had no idea how deep he was because the crevice was so dark.

“Tumble, will you go and see where Gus is?” asked Oksa, taking her small scout out of her bag.

“Certainly, Young Gracious,” said the Tumble-Bawler, plunging into the fissure.

The next few minutes seemed to last longer than any the Runaways had ever experienced and the absence of conventional methods of
measuring
time made the wait harder to bear. Oksa chewed off her last three remaining nails and tried to be patient. Soon after, the Tumble-Bawler reappeared, covered in dust. It shook itself and planted itself proudly in front of its mistress.

“The Young Gracious’s Tumble-Bawler reporting!”

“We’re listening,” said Oksa impatiently.

“The Young Gracious’s friend is on a narrow stone shelf which is twenty-two inches long by thirteen inches wide. It’s fairly thin, barely two inches thick, but the Young Gracious’s friend isn’t heavy enough to cause it to give way. The Young Gracious’s friend cut himself three times as he fell: twice on the face and once on the right hand. But there’s no need to worry. They’re superficial injuries and the Young Gracious’s friend isn’t in any danger.”

“How deep is he?” asked Pierre, his face deathly white.

The Tumble-Bawler frowned and announced:

“By my calculations, the Young Gracious’s friend is at a depth which equals 1,519 feet in Outside measurements.”

“1,519 feet!” exclaimed Oksa, panicking.

“1,519 feet,” confirmed the Tumble-Bawler.

Pierre swore and angrily kicked at the ground. Leomido looked at Abakum in concern: the Fairyman was deep in thought, his expression grave and his forehead creased with worry. Beside him, Pavel lay flat on his stomach on the edge of the dark drop and examined the crevice.

“My Ink Dragon won’t get in there, it’s too narrow,” he muttered.

“And I can’t extend my arm beyond 100 feet,” said Abakum, putting his head in his hands.

Everyone thought carefully in anguished silence, fearing that they might not come up with a way to save Gus. Oksa shook her head to banish this unbearable thought. “It can’t end like this!” she thought, feeling close to tears.

“What if I took my Ventosa Capacitors?” she suggested, opening her Caskinette. “I must have enough to get there and back.”

Abakum looked worried.

“Getting back is the problem,” he said. “With the best will in the world, you couldn’t carry Gus back.”

The girl looked down. Her heart was aching with anxiety.

“Help!” called Gus.

At the sound of this heart-rending appeal from the depths, Pierre gave a groan of misery. Tugdual, who was sitting a little to one side with his arms around his knees, looked up and gravely addressed the Tumble-Bawler:

“What are the fissure walls made of?”

“Limestone, grandson of the Knuts,” replied the creature. “I spotted many cracks of varying sizes in the rock, ranging from a quarter of an inch to two inches. But the rock also has many sharp outcrops at more or less regular intervals, which makes descent dangerous.”

“Perfect!” exclaimed Tugdual. “I’ll go.”

He jumped up and resolutely hurried over to the fissure.

“Wait a moment, lad!” said Abakum, holding him back.

“Why?” asked the young man, pulling free. “I’m the only one who can save him and you know it.”

“Yes,” agreed Abakum, looking resigned. “I know.”

Feeling confused, Oksa couldn’t help shouting:

“But how?”

Tugdual turned to her, put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye with a faint smile.

“Alpinismus, Lil’ Gracious.”

“What’s Alpinismus?” she snapped, her eyes full of tears.

“It looks like you’ve already forgotten some of the skills I inherited from my ancestors, as well as certain arachnidan episodes of my shady past!”

“Your Spiderman technique!”

“Got it in one!” said Tugdual. “The ordinary human saved by the power of the vile Firmhand Werewall, alias ‘the bat’… How ironic is
that? It’ll make a pleasant change from the walls of morgues or medical faculties anyway,” he added with a wry laugh.

He let go of Oksa’s shoulders, murmuring quietly in her ear:

“See you later, Lil’ Gracious…”

Then he turned to Pierre, who was watching him intently.

“Pierre, I know you have the gift of Alpinismus too. But, without wishing to offend you, my size and my recent experiences give me a substantial advantage.”

“Very true,” admitted Pierre sadly.

“I’m off, then.”

“I’ll be indebted to you for ever. Be careful, lad.”

Tugdual disentangled himself from Pierre’s embrace and knelt down by the edge of the pit.

“Tugdual?” called Abakum.

The young man turned round warily.

“You’ll need these Arborescens and Suspensas—here.”

The Fairyman turned his Granok-Shooter round several times in his fingers until it opened lengthwise. Then he emptied all but a few of the Granoks it contained into Tugdual’s Granok-Shooter. He gave the other Runaways a look, urging them to follow suit.

“How do you open it?” asked Oksa crossly. “I didn’t even know you could.”

“Like this, Lil’ Gracious,” replied Tugdual, helping her. “Three turns to the left, two and a half to the right, then press twice a third of the way down the mouthpiece. Then say the word ‘apriculum’ in your head and you’ll feel a notch forming under your fingers: that’s the opening mechanism. Just slide your nail beneath it to open it.”

“But I don’t have any nails left!” wailed Oksa.

Tugdual chuckled and held out an index finger tipped with a filthy nail. When his Granok-Shooter was full to overflowing, he turned round and, gripping the edge with his hands, he lowered himself down into the fissure. A few seconds later he disappeared into the darkness.