The Forest of Lost Souls (25 page)

“But I’m too heavy!” objected the boy. “We’ll never do it.”

“I love your optimism,” said Tugdual. “And your words of
encouragement
. They’re so motivational.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” broke in Tugdual. “I don’t look strong, but I can carry several times my own weight. Like ants… so if you think I’m worried about your seven and a half stone…”

“Um… eight…”

“HOLD ON TIGHT!” ordered Tugdual.

T
HE TWO BOYS SCRAMBLED ONTO SOLID GROUND A FEW
minutes later as the Runaways clapped and cheered. Pierre was beside himself with gratitude. Tugdual did his best not to show how tired he was, but his gaunt face and deathly-pale complexion betrayed his weariness. The last stretch had been the toughest part of the ascent by far. It had cost him a superhuman effort to finish his mission and his strength, like his Granoks, was gone. Even his intense pride at his achievement couldn’t change that. Cursing his weakness, he collapsed onto the burning dusty ground.

“Tugdual!” cried Oksa, rushing over to him.

“I’m okay, Lil’ Gracious,” he said flatly, gazing up at the clouds rushing past in the sky. “I’m okay. I just feel a little faint. Leave me alone for a moment and I’ll be fine.”

“Tugdual, what you did was amazing!” continued Oksa, ignoring his request. “I can’t believe you succeeded. You’re… FANTASTIC!”

Tugdual turned to look at her with an amused grimace.

“Did you doubt me?”

Oksa blushed, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Of course not! But I still think what you did is fantastic!”

“How about a kiss to thank me?”

“What?!”

“Forget it, I’m only teasing,” said Tugdual, sitting up.

He looked away to hide a smile, his eyes sparkling, leaving Oksa covered in confusion.

“Does anyone know what’s going on over there?” he said, his mood darkening suddenly.

They all followed Tugdual’s gaze across the Endless Barrens. In the distance, an ominously dark tornado was forming. With a deafening roar, it raised clouds of red-hot whirling dust as it spun like a monstrous funnel reaching into the mauve sky.

“Wow!” exclaimed Oksa, fascinated by this spectacular weather phenomenon. “It’s huge!”

As soon as she’d said this, the tornado swayed and then began speeding towards the Runaways, who couldn’t believe they were having to face fresh danger. Hands on hips, Oksa gave a cry of anger.

“Enough is enough! How much more are we expected to take?”

Oksa’s father started running in the opposite direction to the tornado, pulling her with him. Abakum and Tugdual immediately did the same, snatching up the Incompetent, which was still examining the Leozard’s remains. Summoning his last reserves of energy, Leomido picked up Reminiscens and raced after them. Gus, who was too exhausted to protest, was forced to accept a piggyback from his father, although he hated having to rely on other people yet again. His embarrassment faded, though, when he realized how fast his father could run. He knew Oksa was an amazing sprinter, but Pierre with his Firmhand blood was even faster than his friend.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, noticing his father’s unusual ability for the first time.

“I know, Gus,” broke in Pierre, leaping over a fissure with
disconcerting
ease.

“Your father and I could outrun a cheetah, you know,” said Tugdual,
again mercilessly targeting Gus’s inferiority complex.

“That thing is a lot more frightening than a cheetah,” remarked the Viking, glancing behind.

Gus looked round too: the tornado was catching them up and had now split into five, forming what looked like a terrifying wall of giant funnels advancing on them. Oksa screamed and concentrated on what had become a headlong race for survival over the
burning
desert—but no matter how fast they ran, the tornadoes drew inexorably closer.

“This way!” cried Abakum, swerving to the left.

They followed the old man’s lead and, after a few hundred yards, turned round to see that the tornadoes were still following hard on their heels. Again they tried to evade them and again they failed. They stopped running, breathless and panic-stricken.

“We’re done for…” wailed Gus.

“What, again?” said Tugdual sarcastically.

“Let’s think about this,” said Oksa. “If the tornadoes are following us, there’s no point trying to escape. They must be doing it for a reason.”

She thought hard, staring at the tornadoes.

“Hey!” she said suddenly. “Maybe they’re the way out that the Tumble-Bawler said might be above us. Do you remember?”

The Runaways stared at her, impressed by her reasoning.

“You’re right, Oksa!” exclaimed Gus. “That’s brilliant!”

“There’s just one small problem: which is the right one?”

To everyone’s great surprise, Gus suddenly made a dash for the
largest
tornado and disappeared into the spinning vortex of burning dust.

“Follow him!” yelled Oksa, sprinting after him. “COME ON!”

One by one the Runaways threw themselves into the heart of the tornado. Tossed about like a rag doll in the dreadful maelstrom, Oksa’s terrified
screams were drowned out by the deafening din. It was as if she were in a salad spinner, unable to control her movements, and she began to feel sick. She closed her eyes and mouth against the burning ashes. The dusty wind buffeted her face so violently that it felt like her skin was being rubbed down with sandpaper. It was terrifying to be so helpless, but she had no choice but to let nature take its course, convinced she was going to die. She felt her body rising through the turbulent column of air and couldn’t help thinking: “Any minute now, I’m going to be launched into the sky and that’ll be that! I couldn’t have asked for a more spectacular death. Thanks a million!” To add insult to injury, her head suddenly crashed against something hard. A stone? A Leozard bone? Her head was throbbing as though it had been cracked in half although she couldn’t feel anything with her hand. She now had a severe migraine on top of the nausea churning her stomach. Fortunately she’d reached the top of the tornado and was spat out into the mauve sky like a cherry stone. Oksa screamed with terror, frantically flailing her arms, before opening her eyes and realizing she was lying on moss-covered ground in the midst of a small clearing surrounded by giant trees.

“That was some ride, wasn’t it?” came Gus’s voice. Oksa looked at him, amazed she was still in one piece.

“Ooohhh, you!…” she growled, lunging at her friend.

“Easy now. Don’t forget I’m the one who saved your life!”

Oksa was shaking all over with shock.

“Is anything wrong? You’ve gone a nasty shade of green,” teased Gus.

Doubled up with painful stomach spasms, Oksa leant over and threw up. Gus put his hand on her shoulder, looking concerned.

“Are you all right?”

“Uh-uh,” said Oksa straightening up, a wild look in her eyes. “I really thought I was going to die.”

“You should trust me more!” remarked Gus.

“I have to admit you excelled yourself this time,” she said, with an admiring, grateful glance. “How did you know it was the right tornado?”

Gus shrugged and, pretending not to be bothered either way, replied:

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, I noticed that one of the five tornadoes was spinning
anticlockwise
, so I immediately thought it had to be the right one. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“You’re not kidding!” agreed Oksa. “And it proves one of your guiding principles: thinking before acting is the secret of success.”

Gus didn’t have time to reply: the other Runaways were falling out of the sky like human meteorites. They bounced on the carpet of moss in the clearing, terrified at their narrow brush with death. Even the unflappable Abakum looked shaken. Eyes glazed, he was bent over and retching with his hands on his thighs. Pavel and Pierre were recovering slowly, sitting on the ground with their heads between their knees, while a winded Leomido was trying to struggle to his feet to go to Reminiscens, who was crouched a few yards away. When Tugdual finally arrived, Oksa could at least breathe easily again. He lay unmoving on the moss, his skin chalky white, staring at the sky. Oksa was about to go to him, when Abakum stopped her.

“Leave him be!”

“But…”

“I don’t think he’ll want anyone to see him like this,” explained the Fairyman quietly. Leomido walked over to them and murmured:

“Well, that was a close call! Well done, lad!” he added, patting Gus’s shoulder.

The boy blushed and ducked his head, allowing a strand of dark hair to hide his face.

“It’s nice to be useful for once,” he muttered, as Oksa stared at him in exasperation.

“What a terrible storm!” remarked the Incompetent suddenly. “My
hair must be a complete mess.”

“But you don’t have any hair, Incompetent!” remarked Oksa.

“Don’t I?” it asked in amazement, patting itself all over.

Oksa smiled and turned again to look at Tugdual, who seemed to be rallying. Obeying her heart, she wandered over to him. He was rubbing his head with a rueful grimace.

“Are you okay?” said Oksa.

“Hmm… I’ve been better,” groaned the young man. “I feel like someone hit me on the head with a brick. Here, feel.”

He caught hold of her hand and placed it on a large, egg-shaped lump. Oksa snatched her hand back, flustered by his touch.

“I think that might have been me,” she said, remembering the blow she’d received inside the tornado.

“If it was, you’re really hard-headed, that’s for sure!” remarked Tugdual, smiling. “Anyway, we’re alive, that’s the main thing… Good call, Gus!” he said to the boy, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, right,” grouched Gus. “We’re right back where we started.”

They looked around and saw with surprise that Gus was right: they were exactly where they’d landed just after Impicturement.

“Oh, brilliant!” exclaimed Oksa. “I hope we didn’t go through all that for nothing.”

“Not at all,” said the black butterfly, fluttering in front of her. “You’ve accomplished your mission.”

“Oh, it’s you! Maybe you can explain why we’re here again,” she said, looking around at the clearing.

“Do you see that rectangle flashing on and off in the sky?”

The Runaways looked up and nodded: the rectangle was shining brightly above them.

“Is that the picture?” asked Oksa hopefully.

The butterfly flew closer, fixing her with its tiny eyes.

“Not at all, Young Gracious.”

“What?” chorused the Runaways.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but what you see isn’t the picture,” continued the butterfly. “It’s the entrance to the passage leading to the Stonewall.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” wailed Oksa. “Is there no end to this?”

“Of course there is,” replied the butterfly. “Everything comes to an end, here and everywhere else. Don’t worry, Young Gracious, Runaways! The way to escape your Impicturement lies on the other side of that wall. So long as you manage to destroy the Soul-Searcher and foil the treacherous Wickedesses, of course.”

“Oh, sure! Piece of cake,” said Gus.

“Have confidence in yourselves,” counselled the butterfly wisely. “Enter the passage and find the way out.”