The Forest of Lost Souls (8 page)

D
RAGOMIRA AND
A
BAKUM COULD SEE THAT
O
KSA WAS
flustered by Tugdual, but they chose to ignore it because
something
had just come up which complicated what was already a very tricky situation.

“We have a problem, youngsters,” said Dragomira, looking first at Oksa, then at Tugdual.

“There’s a traitor in our midst, is that it?” immediately asked Oksa.

“What makes you say that?” asked her gran with a frown, glaring at Tugdual.

“Er… it’s just that it’s the worst thing that could happen to us now, isn’t it?” replied Oksa, in order to shift the blame from her friend and protect the anonymity of her little informer curled up in the corner of the hearth.

Dragomira gave her a puzzled look, patted the crown of braided hair around her head and continued:

“We don’t think we have a traitor in our group, but we are sure we’re under surveillance. Ever since Gus’s Impicturement, we’ve been followed, watched and spied on.”

“How do you know?” broke in Tugdual.

“You’re well aware, dear boy, that Abakum has a remarkable sense of smell. He’s been detecting the scent of our spy continually for the past three days and we’ve seen a man leaning against one of the trees in Bigtoe
Square for hours. When you unleashed the storm, Oksa, that man didn’t budge an inch, not even to run for shelter. That’s a real giveaway, don’t you think? A short time ago, Abakum went out to learn the truth. The man ran off as soon as he saw him. Two hours later, he was back in the same spot. Abakum then turned into a shadow to try to get closer. But the man must have been well informed, because he ran away again. And that convinced us once and for all that he was a Runaway.”

“Or a Felon!” exclaimed Oksa.

“The Felons
are
Runaways, Dushka,” reminded Dragomira.

“Yes, that’s true,” admitted Oksa. “But he could also be a secret agent, couldn’t he? Or a policeman?”

Dragomira and Abakum exchanged a brief smile.

“An Outsider wouldn’t have run away when Abakum’s shadow came over,” objected Baba Pollock. “He wouldn’t have run away because he wouldn’t even have noticed it! Only a well-informed Insider—in other words, a Runaway close to our family—would know about Abakum’s gift.”

“You’re right,” conceded Oksa, still thinking hard. “Couldn’t it be a Runaway trying to get back in touch with us?”

“If that were the case, don’t you think he might go about it a little
differently
?” objected Abakum. “For a start, he wouldn’t run off. You know, Oksa, it’s beginning to look like you don’t want to accept that there might be a Runaway spy.”

Oksa glanced down, disconcerted by this remark, and particularly by the fact that a stranger might be watching them.

“Well… I don’t want it to be true!” she replied. “Things are complicated enough already, aren’t they?”

“Do you think it could be Mortimer McGraw?” asked Tugdual suddenly.

“That’s the first person I thought of,” replied Dragomira.

“But why would Mortimer keep watch on us?” continued Oksa. “Because of Zoe? Maybe he wants to see her again? She is part of his family, after all… OH NO! Perhaps he wants to kidnap her!”

This possibility frightened her more than she would have imagined.
Zoe was Leomido’s and Reminiscens’s granddaughter, Orthon-McGraw’s niece, a descendant of the vicious Werewalls, Ocious and Temistocles, and of Malorane, the ill-advised Gracious. But she was also just a
vulnerable
girl with great powers and a tragic, chequered past.

“I don’t think Zoe is the target of this spy,” said Abakum. “Mortimer certainly has the same motives as his father, but I’ve always believed that Orthon wasn’t the only Felon on the Outside. The one thing we’re sure of is that the minute we’re Impictured, the painting will be even more valuable, which is our main problem now. There are people who see you only as a key that will allow them to re-enter Edefia, Oksa, and they’ll do anything to get their hands on the picture. If they did, they’d only have to wait until you came out to snatch you, so to speak. That’s much easier than trying to abduct you!”

“Um… I don’t want you to think I’m afraid of entering the picture, but if that’s what you’re concerned about, why don’t I just stay here?” asked Oksa, dismayed.

“It’s certainly true that being watched by this man complicates
matters
,” continued Abakum. “There is danger outside the picture, as well as inside—who knows what we’ll find there and, more importantly, how we’re going to get out? This changes things and we did in fact think about leaving you here and taking Dragomira in your place.”

“No!” protested Oksa. “That’s out of the question. I’m coming with you!”

“No one wants to put you in danger. That’s not in our interest, nor in that of the Felons. But of course you’re coming with us,” confirmed Abakum sadly. “You heard the Squoracle: you’re our friends’ only hope of rescue, there’s no denying that.”

“Let’s imagine the worst,” suggested Tugdual. “Say this Felon or
someone
else gets hold of the picture. With us inside, of course. And say that, for one reason or another, he destroys it. What happens to us? Are we condemned to wander for ever in an unknown and hostile dimension? Will we die an agonizing death?”

Dragomira sighed, shaking her head despondently.

“Are you trying to make Oksa even more scared?” she said. “Don’t you think the situation is bad enough?”

“You really are
impossible
!” exclaimed Oksa, turning to Tugdual, who looked very pleased to see her lose her temper. “Of course we’d die… that would be the logical outcome, wouldn’t it? And, I’ll have you know it doesn’t frighten me! One little bit! Well… perhaps a little,” she admitted quietly.

Tugdual chuckled, which enraged the Young Gracious. Resisting the desire to hit him, she clenched her fists and her jaw, determined not to show how angry she was.

“That’s why, despite the great help she could be if she let herself be Impictured with us, Dragomira will stay outside to protect the picture,” concluded Abakum. “Anyway, don’t forget your mother needs someone to look after her. Can you think of anyone better than your gran? An apothecary with magic powers: who could ask for anyone better?”

M
ARIE WAS SQUEEZING THE ARMRESTS OF HER WHEEL
CHAIR
with all her might, digging her nails into the thick leather. Oksa had put her arms around her mother from behind and was hugging her anxiously. Impicturement was imminent. Would they ever see each other again? Although Oksa didn’t doubt it for a minute and was convinced they’d succeed, it didn’t prevent her from being on edge and very nervous a few minutes before their departure. She could feel
muffled
sobs shaking her mother and making her breathe faster. Her own nostrils started prickling and she could do nothing to stop the tears. Around them, the Runaways stood in complete silence. An emotional Dragomira was clinging to Abakum’s arm—this was the first time she’d ever been separated from her loyal Watcher. All day, in bleak silence, she’d worked alongside him in her private workroom making the final stocks of Granoks and Capacitors. They would certainly need them inside the bewitched picture! Her eyes bloodshot with tears and tiredness, Baba Pollock looked at her friend and murmured:

“Take care of yourself, my dear Watcher… and please bring them all back alive!” she added, her voice cracking.

“Everything will be fine,” said the Fairyman reassuringly, although he didn’t seem completely convinced by his own words. “We’ll be back
in no time, I promise. Nothing will happen to us. You know we have some formidable secret weapons: Pavel is stronger than he’d ever admit; Leomido combines experience with wisdom; Pierre is the
embodiment
of strength and Tugdual has subtle talents which we idealists lack sometimes. And, as for our Last Hope, she may not know it, but she’s incredibly powerful.”

“Keep her safe, I’m begging you!” broke in Marie, who’d been listening, as had all the Runaways. “I’ll die if you don’t.”

Oksa felt her heart clench painfully. Hearing her ailing mother
mention
death broke down all her defences. Death was on the prowl like a merciless predator with an equally formidable hunter: time.

“Come on, let’s go!” she said suddenly, afraid she wouldn’t have the courage to leave if they didn’t make a move soon.

Pierre was the first to say his farewells. He hugged his wife and everyone followed suit, embracing each other silently and lengthily, as the tears fell soundlessly. Zoe extricated herself from the arms of her grandfather, Leomido, while Pavel gave Marie one last kiss, followed by Oksa, who buried her face in her mother’s neck. “I can’t bear it,” she thought sadly. Abakum gently rested his hand on her shoulder, upset by the Young Gracious’s misery. It was time to go. Oksa ran her hand through her hair and, to hide her sadness, adopted a ninja pose, one leg stretched out behind her and hands pressed together in front.

“Here we come, picture!” she said, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. “You’d better watch out… Hang in there, Gus! We’re coming to get you.”

As soon as Pavel had lightly touched the Imagicon, the six Runaways, hand in hand, felt themselves being sucked inside the strange mixture of slowly shifting iridescent colours. For a while they teetered on the edge of the wooden frame above the terrifying abyss below. Abakum was the first to give in to the urge to jump into the void, dragging his companions with him.

“Muuuuuuum!” screamed Oksa, clinging so hard to the hands she was
holding—Abakum’s and her father’s—that for a second she was afraid she might break their bones.

Her cry was muffled, deadened by the walls of the long, wide vertical passageway through which they were falling, hanging on to each other. For a few minutes it felt as though they were floating like feathers in the middle of a strange, dark, frightening cloud. All they could make out was the dark purple fog which wreathed them as they fell. The deeper they plunged, the fainter the light grew; and the faster their hearts raced…

Suddenly, they stopped. They held their breath in the unsettling silence. Sitting on the spongy ground, they opened their eyes so wide that it hurt. The darkness was total—as absolute as the silence.

“Are we all here?” came Abakum’s subdued voice.

“I’m here,” replied Pavel immediately, squeezing Oksa’s hand, which he was still holding firmly. “Are you okay, Oksa?”

“Um… yes… I think so…” said the girl, trembling.

“I’m here,” said Pierre.

“Me too!” added Leomido. “But I’m afraid I’ve lost Tugdual,” he continued, sounding worried. “We let go of each other’s hands just before we stopped falling, so he can’t be far.”

Oksa felt the blood drain from her face. Her nerves were at breaking point. She breathed deeply to try to calm herself, while her Curbita-Flatulo undulated more strenuously on her wrist than ever before.

“Tugdual! Where are you?” she cried at the top of her voice.

Following Oksa’s example, the four men yelled as loudly as they could and the Lunatrixa, sitting in a harness tightly fastened to Pavel’s back, added her rasping voice to theirs. This immediately reminded Abakum about another of their small companions:

“Incompetent? Are you there?”

From Leomido’s back came a slow, groggy voice:

“Yes, I think I’m here, but I’m not completely sure because I can’t see anything… What about you? Are you here? And who are you? Your voice sounds familiar… have we met before?”

“The Incompetent is on top form as usual!” observed Oksa,
squeezing
her father’s hand. “Aaargh! What was that? Help!!!!” she screamed suddenly, kicking into empty space.

“Oh… sorry, Oksa! I think that was your leg I just touched.”

“Tugdual, is that you?” enquired Leomido. “Thank God you’re here… Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry,” he drawled as offhandedly as usual. “You should come with me. I think I’ve found something… Oksa, give me your hand. Don’t let go of each other, okay? I’m going to guide you.”

Tugdual’s fingers felt along Oksa’s leg, then up her side until he found her hand and the girl was glad they were in complete darkness. At least no one could see how red her cheeks were. Holding hands, the Runaways carefully stood up. The darkness was still impenetrable, but their eyes were becoming gradually accustomed to it: soon they could make out velvety mauve and grey palpitations in the inky darkness, which made the shadows look monstrously alive. Oksa shivered fearfully.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” asked Tugdual, realizing how frightened she was.

“Stop!” said Oksa. “I’m scared to death.”

Tugdual squeezed the girl’s hand and continued to guide the small group, moving confidently through the shadows that were pulsing as though animated by a heartbeat.

“Tugdual, may I ask you something?” murmured Oksa.

“Ask away, Lil’ Gracious.”

“Can you see in the dark?”

“Of course,” he replied tersely. “Don’t forget I’m of Firmhand descent! We have animalistic instincts, strength and senses. But I’m not the only one here with those gifts, am I, Pierre?”

The latter cleared his throat.

“No… but I have to admit that, as far as night vision is concerned, you appear to be much more gifted than I am, my young friend!” said the Viking.

“It’s not far now, we’re almost there,” remarked Tugdual, pulling his companions along behind him.

They took another few steps on the springy ground, peering through the slowly dissipating gloom. Then, in a few seconds, the last wisps of darkness had vanished, revealing a dense, shadowy forest.