APPLAUDED ENTHUSIASTICALLY BY THE CROWD, THE INK Dragon landed on the tiny beach beside the smallest grandstand, which was covered by a large, gently swaying canopy. Streamers and banners were also fluttering in the breeze and Oksa was incredibly touched to see that their navy blue and burgundy stripes picked out the colours of her tie. Sliding down the dragon’s flank, she landed on the white sand and was soon joined by her three creatures—the Lunatrix, the Incompetent and the Getorix. The dragon resumed its inky contours on Pavel’s back, amazing the spectators whose cries of astonishment resounded over the waters.
“Would my Gracious encounter the desire to proceed to the ascension of these terraces?” asked the Lunatrix. “The Runaway friends and Gracious relations are filled with waiting for your geographical proximity.”
Oksa looked up at the top of the grandstand and saw some familiar faces: the Knut and Fortensky clans, the Bellangers, Zoe and Reminiscens, the Servants of the High Enclave—and Abakum, of course, her Watcher, who looked more magnificent and happier than ever.
“Come on, darling,” murmured Pavel at her side.
He was about to put a fatherly hand on Oksa’s shoulder, but then thought better of it. Appreciating his self-control, Oksa touched her father’s hand lightly. As she did so, the Cloak brushed Pavel’s skin, making him flinch in surprise at the power radiating from the embroidered leaves and birds adorning the sleeve. Oksa turned round, tossed back her hair and flew through the air to the Gracious grandstand, where Abakum greeted her with open arms. Over the Fairyman’s shoulder she glimpsed Tugdual, with his incandescent, icy gaze, and behind him, as so often, Zoe, her face shadowed in mystery. They were both wearing symbolic Edefian costumes, as were their family and friends. Oksa’s gaze lingered on Tugdual. He’d opted for a double-breasted tunic fastened at the side with leather ties, baggy trousers and soft leather ankle boots, all in black, like his hair. As for Zoe, she was wearing an Asian-influenced quilted silk dress with a high collar worn over wide trousers and flat sandals. Her Venetian blond hair was pinned up in coils framing her solemn, freckled face, and there was no doubt she was very beautiful. Oksa gave both of them a bright glance, which they answered in their own way: Tugdual with a knowing wink and Zoe with a small, reserved smile.
Pavel also landed on the grandstand, with the Incompetent clinging to his back and the Lunatrix and Getorix in his arms. A few seconds later a thundering voice boomed out.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, creatures and plants, may I have your attention, please!”
Oksa tried to locate the source of that incredible voice. Surely it wasn’t coming from the tiny bird with lemon yellow wings?
“We’re gathered here today to honour our new sovereign—I am, of course, referring to Gracious Oksaaaaa!” continued the megaphone-bird.
All eyes were on Oksa, who had spectacular crimson splotches over her cheeks, forehead and neck. Her devoted Getorix began fanning her with a small Parasol tree leaf.
“I’m going to have to say something, I think,” groaned Oksa.
She looked at her father for confirmation, a deep vertical crease between her grey eyes: “There’s no getting out of it, is there?” Pavel shook his head, amused.
“Okay, fine,” she said, reluctantly.
Her eyes wandered towards the packed grandstands built on stilts, where everyone was quivering with impatience for a sign from her. She stepped up to the railing and, gripping it hard, she said clearly:
“I’m very happy to be with you today—” Naftali interrupted her, holding out his hand towards her. An iridescent white ball sat in his palm.
“Everyone will be able to hear you with this Amplivox Capacitor.”
“Really?” asked Oksa enthusiastically.
“Of course!” confirmed Naftali, looking wonderful in his dark grey flannel suit.
Oksa took the Capacitor and placed it in her mouth. It melted instantly, creating a strange sensation at the back of her throat.
“Ahem…”
This simple exclamation carried to the far end of the lake. Oksa gave a small, surprised giggle which, amplified and undistorted, was so infectious that it brought a glow to everyone’s faces and a sparkle to their eyes. Before long, everyone had erupted into irresistible, deafening laughter, and the louder Oksa laughed, the greater the general hilarity.
“As I was saying, it’s a great pleasure for me to be here with you!” Oksa finally managed to say after struggling to regain a straight face. “I shall do everything in my power to restore our lost harmony, but I need you, we need each other, and we will only succeed if we work together.”
Making the most of everyone being in the same place, she was reiterating what she’d already said to a fortunate few when she’d formed her High Enclave. A huge cheer interrupted her, as someone’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“You’d make an excellent politician, Lil’ Gracious!” murmured Tugdual.
Oksa’s mouth twitched as she pretended to look reprovingly at him, and continued in her amplified voice:
“We’ve all been hard at work rebuilding Thousandeye City, even though we’re well aware of the danger prowling around our borders, and we’re far from finished. But today is a special day, I believe. A day of rest, full of surprises that I’m dying to discover—at last!”
The tiny megaphone-bird landed on the railing beside her hand.
“Then let the festivities begiiiiiiiin!” it declared.
There was an even more deafening clamour. Thousands of navy and burgundy flags fluttered on the grandstands, accompanied by cries of joy and impatience.
“The spectacle you’re about to see is one of Edefia’s oldest traditions!” announced the bird. “Only the oldest citizens among us might remember it, since it hasn’t been revived since 1952, during the reign of Gracious Malorane. Gracious, ladies, gentlemen, creatures and plants, I ask you to give the two teams the welcome they deserve before they compete in a thrilling and spectacular Breakball match!”
Oksa stared open-mouthed at Abakum.
“That’s amazing,” she whispered to muffle the effects of the Amplivox. “I’ve read loads about this sport in the Gracious Archives. It sounds like a brilliant game!”
Abakum nodded with a smile and urged her to pay attention to eight people who’d just appeared on Aeropellers. The megaphone-bird introduced them:
“In blue are the Speedy Eels, who’ll be facing the Scrappy Scarabs in green. Let’s give them a big round of applllllaaaause!”
The two teams flew past the Gracious grandstand, crossing each other at high speed, then came back to hover in front of Oksa, saluting her and her cohort. Then they shot off towards the lake, performing a great many spectacular aerobatics and stunts along the right and left banks, which provoked wild applause and deafening cries from the delighted audience.
“Will you explain the rules to us?” Oksa asked Abakum. She and the younger Runaways listened carefully, keeping one eye on the two teams which were performing some death-defying passes.
“It’s very simple,” explained Abakum. “It’s not all that different to handball, with some rules and variations which you’ll love.”
“I’m sure!” exclaimed Oksa.
“There are two teams,” continued the Fairyman. “The aim is to throw the ball, called the Stinger, into the goals of the opposing team. You can only score a goal after a minimum of three passes between members of the same team, and the Stinger—you’ll see why it’s called that—can’t be held by a player for more than ten seconds. As for the other variations, I’ll let you discover those for yourself.”
Ignoring his listeners’ protests, Abakum settled comfortably in his armchair and pointed to the lake. Around them, the spectators reached new levels of wild enthusiasm. The young Runaways were soon shocked into silence by the creature which had just appeared in the middle of the dark waters…