THE TUMBLE-BAWLER CAME TO A SCREAMING HALT, BUT Oksa was a fraction of a second too late in stopping. Vertiflying at speed with her Lunatrix on her back, Oksa ploughed into her little scout with a curse, sending them all plunging into the group of Felons, who seemed to feel nothing except a slight vibration, no stronger than a puff of air. Fortunately for the three intruders, the collision was as silent as it was devoid of consequences and they got away with a bad fright.
“All we have to do is follow them!” said Oksa, wiping the perspiration from her forehead.
“My Gracious is right,” said the Tumble-Bawler. “They’re heading for the central section of the Peak Ridge Mountains.”
“Where Ocious and his henchman are holed up in their troglodytic cave,” added Oksa, suddenly feeling jittery for a quite another reason. “I have to have that Werewall elixir.”
The Lunatrix tightened his arms around her without saying a word. Oksa pressed his chubby hand affectionately. She turned slightly and her cheek grazed the soft down on her lovable companion’s arm.
“Everything will be fine,” she murmured.
“The words of my Gracious are stuffed with positivity.”
The Lunatrix’s remarks were swallowed up by the air. Oksa was already flying in pursuit of the Felons, her hair streaming in the wind and her heart racing. The soldiers, who had no idea that anyone was following them, were Vertiflying with a skill she couldn’t help admiring—a skill combining strength with an impression of invincibility that marked out the most battle-hardened warriors. “Only the strongest stayed with Ocious and his sons,” thought Oksa, “the most aggressive and determined Edefians.” For a second this thought dismayed her, however much she tried not to let it. Then she pictured her father, Abakum, the Runaways and all those men and women whose courage, determination and, above all, loyalty knew no bounds, and felt much better.
Loyalty was probably not a quality Ocious could depend on.
When the immense cave suddenly appeared, Oksa’s blood ran cold. The shifting light spilling out from the interior bathed the rocky slopes of Mount Humongous, and the cave mouth stood out against the darkness like a blazing archway into Hell. About ten smaller caves were dotted about the mountainside. A fierce fire seemed to be burning in their depths, projecting the silhouettes of the guards standing before each one onto the nearby cliffs. With their distorted, elongated shadows these men looked like monstrous colossuses, ready to crush anyone who came within reach. Swarms of Chiropterans were listlessly flying around—the clicking noise made by their wings in the darkness sounded like laundry being shaken out.
The presence of the guards and their aerial escorts was a strong incentive to turn round and flee for dear life.
Which is what the Lunatrix desperately wanted to do.
And which is exactly what Oksa chose not to do.
She felt very small in front of the vaulted cave mouth, which was almost thirteen feet high. Two men, radiating an aura of unfeigned ferocity, stood on either side of the entrance with one hand behind their backs and the other gripping a Granok-Shooter. When Oksa noticed that their noses and mouths were covered by a blue insect, she couldn’t hide her bewilderment.
“Why are they wearing a Sealencer? That’s terrible!”
At the same time she felt a strange drowsiness creeping over her, overwhelming her senses. Languidly she noticed the torches crackling as they burned, giving off a heady fragrance of sandalwood, which made her feel dizzy and sluggish.
“My Gracious must not proceed to fall into somnolence,” said the Lunatrix, his nose buried in Oksa’s hair. “The combustion of the oil from Sleepy Nightshade provides propulsion towards a category of trance.”
“Let’s get going, my Gracious!” added the Tumble-Bawler, its three-fingered hand covering the lower part of its face. “Otherwise you’ll be put to sleep by the emanations of Sleepy Nightshade, or Belladonna, if you prefer.”
“Oh, I don’t prefer anything,” said Oksa groggily.
“Come on, quickly!”
Fighting tiredness with all her strength, Oksa followed her winged guide. Once inside the cave, she slumped against a wall covered in a bluish mosaic. Her Lunatrix clambered down from her back to face her.
“Phew, that was strong!” she whispered, her mind clearing. “The Felons have definitely come up with an effective weapon there.”
She opened her bag and took out her Caskinette. She had to have something to wake her up. She swallowed an Excelsior Capacitor with its indescribable taste of wet earth and pulled a disgusted face. The bracing blast of the Capacitor dissipated the fog caused by the Sleepy Nightshade and Oksa stood up, feeling her strength return.
“I’m sure there are all kinds of traps like that, so we’ll have to stay alert,” she said, helping her Lunatrix onto her back again.
“My eyes will perform the conservation of their peeling,” agreed the little steward.
“Yes, let’s keep our eyes peeled,” agreed Oksa, spurring herself on.
Although she’d been left with a vague feeling of dread after her previous visit to this unique place, she hadn’t forgotten how breathtakingly beautiful it was. She still vividly remembered the corridor paved with cobbles of diamond: that was the route they’d taken, she was sure of it. Following that trail would help them find their way through this maze of tunnels lined with emeralds, topazes and other precious stones that would be worth a king’s ransom anywhere else than in these mountains.
“On the Outside, men would kill to get their hands on a place like this,” murmured Oksa, running her fingertips over a wall covered in blood-red rubies.
She kept walking, wide-eyed at such magnificence. The stones looked even more lustrous in the light of the torches—the flames reflected endlessly off their myriad facets, creating a glare so bright it almost hurt her eyes.
She didn’t pass many people, just a man and a woman deep in conversation, followed by a youth accompanied by two Abominaris. Fortunately, the shriek Oksa gave was deadened by her protective covering of tiny worms.
“I’d forgotten those things existed,” she grumbled, flattening herself against the wall. “They’re just as revolting as ever.”
The slimy bodies of the Abominaris brushed past her, giving off a stink of sweat and mould. One scraped a gnarled nail along the wall of precious stones, unaware of the terror it was inflicting on Oksa and her companions. The Lunatrix’s down bristled and he wrapped his arms so tightly around Oksa’s neck that he almost suffocated her.
“There are five Vigilians at the next junction, my Gracious,” the Tumble-Bawler warned suddenly. “Exactly eighty feet and nine inches away as soon as you put your right foot on the ground.”
Oksa stopped immediately. Perspiration beaded her forehead and her whole body stiffened. She’d faced some terrible, fearsome creatures, such as Abominaris and Leozards, not to mention the Airborne Sirens—those vile fairies spawned by a fallen Ageless One—but the Vigilians filled her with real dread.
“You’re invisible, Oksa,” she reminded herself quietly. “You’re invisible and those revolting creatures can’t see you.”
She crept forward, even though the covering of Invisibuls muted her words and masked her movements. The end of the tunnel of rubies appeared. She could already see the next fabulous diamond-lined tunnel—the last one before she reached the heart of Mount Humongous and Ocious’s lair. The Vigilians were slyly lurking at the junction of the two tunnels. If she listened hard, she could hear them buzzing. She took a deep breath.
“You can do it, Oksa-san!” she told herself. “Come on, get a move on.”
Without looking right or left, she strode across the intersection more steadily than she’d have thought possible. Two Vigilians, more sensitive than the others, fluttered nearer, their antennae erect on their hideous heads. They snooped around the apparently empty corridor, then rejoined the group. Oksa rubbed her hands together.
“That fooled you!” she rejoiced, as she stepped into the tunnel of diamonds.
The light grew brighter and brighter as she walked deeper into the bowels of the mountain—which suggested that the Diaphan was still alive. The members of the fifth tribe had become dependent on intense light as a result of the Confinement Spell cast by the Ageless Ones several centuries ago, and they couldn’t have survived until the Great Chaos without it. The upheavals of the last few decades, and the waning light, had wiped out nearly all the Diaphans. The last member of that foul tribe only owed its salvation to Ocious’s stubborn determination and his ancestral affection for them.
And the survivor was there, a stone’s throw from Oksa. She could sense its nauseating presence. She entered the large chamber where Zoe had been subjected to Beloved Detachment, which had prevented her from experiencing romantic love ever again—a fate worse than anything except perhaps death. As Oksa thought about her second cousin’s sacrifice, her outraged heart lurched. She blinked, dazzled by the unreal light whose source was still a mystery. She took out her sunglasses and helped the Lunatrix down from her back. The small steward clung to her, terrified.
“Hold on to the belt loop of my jeans and don’t let go under any circumstances, okay?” whispered Oksa.
The Lunatrix nodded and obeyed. Whatever happened, they had to avoid breaching the layer of Invisibuls. The thought of this eventuality made the poor creature tremble all over.
“The domestic staff of my Gracious does not possess the texture of an adventurer,” he wailed.
“You’re doing brilliantly, honestly!”
The chamber was as vast as the hall in the seventh basement of the Glass Column and its distinctive sound-absorbing acoustics were due to its location deep beneath thousands of cubic feet of rock. Oksa scanned the walls, tiled with beautiful lapis lazuli mosaics on top of which tiny interlocking silver squares formed animal figures or depicted the solar system in all its immensity. Apart from the doorway through which Oksa had entered, there was no other way in or out.
“It’s a dead end,” she muttered, looking around nervously.
Despite its size, the chamber was virtually empty, except for four massive columns and, in the centre of the room, a circular sofa—the largest Oksa had ever seen—which could easily accommodate forty people. She looked for the large metal cupboard, but it wasn’t there any more—panic began churning in the pit of her stomach and tears welled in her eyes. Surely she hadn’t gone through all this for nothing? She walked round the room, knowing full well she wouldn’t find anything. The cupboard must have been moved. But where to? It could be anywhere…
She received an answer of sorts when a door concealed in the mosaic wall suddenly swung open, revealing another entrance as about ten people entered.
“I’m in charge here!” thundered Ocious. “The decision isn’t yours to make. Not today and certainly not tomorrow.”
A few yards from Oksa, Orthon was glaring daggers at his father. He took a few paces forward and stopped in the middle of the room with his sons, Gregor and Mortimer, behind him. Ocious, followed by Andreas, sat down on the sofa with deliberate slowness. Then he leant back, crossed his legs and looked challengingly at the son he’d always despised.