“I KEEP TELLING YOU I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING! HAVE YOU forgotten that I’m just an ordinary Outsider with ordinary eyes which can only see ordinary things? Your rotten vertical beam of light is invisible to me, OK?”
Scowling, Gus angrily kicked the seat in front.
“Ouch!” yelped Brune.
“Sorry,” apologized Gus. “It wasn’t aimed at you. It’s Oksa’s fault.”
“Oh, come off it,” sighed Oksa.
She looked away in annoyance and concentrated on the road. Two hours earlier, the Runaways and Felons had finally disembarked from the dusty train in Saihan Toroi. The violent onslaught of the Yellow Dragon had left the small town licking its wounds and the inhabitants were struggling to recover from the devastation caused by the fury of the elements, as was the case all over the world. A crowd of hysterical men and women, obsessed with the idea of escaping the ravaged areas, mobbed the train as soon as it pulled into the station. Saihan Toroi was the last stop on the line, and the train was then heading back south. In the north, according to the latest information, the land was being hit by continuous earthquakes. Despite the bad news from every continent, everyone was looking for an escape route—running away in the vain hope of finding safety somewhere else. It was what people had done since time immemorial.
In the general panic, no one paid any attention to the tall stories told by a few passengers about travellers with strange powers, some of whom—they swore on their lives!—could fly or turn into dragons. The Runaways and Felons took advantage of the prevailing chaos to slip away and disappear into the milling, ravaged town. Dragomira and Abakum managed to commandeer two clapped-out old buses and no one needed to be asked twice to climb on board for the journey north to Gashun-nur.
The rickety buses wheezed along the bumpy road, but the travellers were too tired to complain. Once the Definitive Landmark had appeared on the horizon, Orthon had hastily taken the wheel of the first bus. He was driving straight ahead on the only road, followed by Naftali, who was driving the other bus.
“Let him think he can gain an advantage over us,” Dragomira had sighed.
Gus had also been in a tearing hurry. Not to take the wheel, but to sit next to Oksa before Tugdual did. Tugdual had initially looked a little disappointed, but had then favoured Gus with a mocking smile. As soon as the two buses had left the town, Oksa had tried to talk to Gus about the peculiar beam that was drawing them like a magnet but Gus, upset and ashamed that he couldn’t share his friend’s fascination, had reacted badly. Oksa tried to think about something else, but her mind kept coming back to the strange ray of light cutting through the sky, and Gus’s words, which she couldn’t shake from her mind. Her doubts were blackening her thoughts like indelible ink. “What happens if all the Outsiders end up stranded at the entrance to Edefia? What happens if they’re not allowed in?” She shook her head in alarm and looked at Gus. They’d soon realized that only the Insiders and their descendants could see the brightly shining beam. No one else could see its peculiar colour, which had put Gus in a foul mood… and had made everyone more anxious. Oksa remembered what Dragomira had said a few months earlier: “You know, of course, that objects can only be seen when the light they reflect reaches our eyes. Well, the light in Edefia draws its source from a singular beam of sunlight. This forms a solar mantle, which is totally invisible from the Outside and operates as an impassable barrier or force field. Even when Outsiders are near to Edefia, a strange phenomenon renders our land invisible and causes them to go in a different direction. The same thing happens from above: Edefia cannot be seen by the most sophisticated satellites, probably for the same reasons. Our findings suggest that these light waves move faster than ordinary light waves. Edefia’s mantle is visible to Insiders: it’s our frontier and our eyes have become genetically adapted to the prodigious speed of light which lends it a colour that none of us has ever seen on the Outside. An unknown colour…” Oksa now understood what Baba Pollock had told her when she’d discovered the secret of her origins, and it didn’t bode well for the Outsiders. What would happen if they couldn’t see the beam and were diverted away from the Portal? Oksa shivered. She looked at Gus.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Forget it,” replied Gus sullenly, making no attempt to lighten his tone. “Tell me what the colour is like and we’ll call it quits.”
Oksa frowned. How could you describe something that didn’t exist? She could see the beam of light, but it was impossible to find the right words. Oksa wracked her brains and, doing her best not to annoy her friend any further, decided to tell him exactly what she saw:
“At first it looks like the beam is rising from the ground into the sky but, if you examine it more closely, you can see it is actually coming from the sky. It’s falling like a vertical ray of sunshine.”
“I’m with you so far,” nodded Gus. “But what about the colour, Oksa? Tell me what the colour is like.”
“It isn’t like anything, Gus,” admitted Oksa.
“How can it not be like anything?”
Oksa glanced at him in frustration.
“I could tell you that it’s a blend of all the existing colours, but that wouldn’t be right. I don’t know, Gus… I don’t know what the colour’s like.”
Gus sighed noisily.
“OK, I believe you,” he said, giving in.
The bus suddenly stopped. Naftali got up and stretched.
“It’s almost dark, we should get some rest.”
A shadow crossed Oksa’s face. After travelling so many miles and enduring so many hardships, everyone should be dying to pass through the Portal, but no one seemed that bothered about reaching the beam of light. It made no sense! The Young Gracious’s concern was only heightened when she saw Orthon banging on the door of the bus in a temper.
“Why are you stopping?”
“We’re going to spend the night in this village,” replied Dragomira, calmly and authoritatively.
Orthon glared at her.
“That’s just wasting time!” he fumed.
“You can go on ahead and wait for us!” replied Baba Pollock. “We’re spending our last night here together.”
LAST NIGHT? Oksa stiffened. She looked at her gran in a panic, then her parents. She shakily left her seat and went over to her mother.
“Mum? What’s going on? Tell me it isn’t true…”
Her voice broke. Marie hugged her. She didn’t deny or confirm anything, but her silence spoke volumes. The bus creaked as the Runaways got out and Pavel picked up Marie to carry her down from the vehicle. Hanging on to her mother’s hand, Oksa followed, a scared look in her eyes.
“That’s pretty,” said Gus behind her.
The village looked abandoned. The houses were in ruins; sections of wall had fallen down to reveal glimpses of dusty interiors and toppled furniture, vestiges of lives that had been turned upside down. However, in the middle of this wreckage stood an almost intact Buddhist temple, built of grey stone and weathered wood. Small sculptures of men astride dragons dangled from the curved ends of the roof, which had only lost a few glazed tiles. The setting sun bathed this ancient building in an aura of mystery.
“No kidding,” exclaimed Oksa. “It’s gorgeous.” Dragomira was already marching towards the temple, where she and her clan would spend the night. She climbed the few steps leading up to the entrance, took out her Polypharus, then walked inside.
“I hope there aren’t any ancient ghosts of demon monks,” whispered Gus to Oksa, in a ghoulish voice.
She jumped and punched him on the shoulder.
“Idiot!”
“Come on, let’s take the grand tour.”
Oksa smiled, grateful to him for attempting to lighten the mood. She followed him inside the temple, which felt safe and peaceful, despite being dilapidated. A brazier in the centre of the large main room, filled with sticks collected by Pierre and Abakum and lit by Dragomira’s Fireballistico, soon had everyone feeling warmer. The Runaways searched the houses nearby and brought back the makings of a real feast: potatoes, dried meat, lard and nuts.
“I’m starving,” admitted Oksa, greedily eyeing the potatoes beneath the embers.
“Everyone knows you’re a pig!” said Gus.
Oksa looked at him, her eyes shining, torn between laughter and tears.
“And don’t say you’re a growing girl…”
“Well,” sighed Oksa. “It does feel like I haven’t eaten for days.”
“Are you on a diet?” asked the Incompetent, looking puzzled. “But you’re thin as a rake!”
He crunched on a walnut, spat out the shell and ate the kernel.
“You’re hilarious,” laughed Oksa, stroking the creature’s wrinkled skin.
Everyone sat round the glowing brazier. Driven by a type of clan instinct, the families had gathered into groups: Pollocks, Bellangers, Knuts, Fortenskys… They were all drawn with tiredness and anxiety, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement not to mention the fact that the Outsiders might not be allowed into Edefia—that would be too hard to bear. So they all concentrated on their loved ones in tormented silence, hoping against hope that everything would be all right.
With a full stomach and greasy hands, Oksa laid her head on her mother’s shoulder.
“It’ll be fine, darling,” murmured Marie, stroking her daughter’s hair. “But, whatever happens, you must always believe in yourself. And in us. You have a huge responsibility and you must do everything you can to succeed, do you understand? Everything… that’s more important than anything. And tell yourself that nothing is ever hopeless, there’s always an answer.”
Oksa choked back a sob.
“Do you really think so, Mum?”
“Of course I do!”
Marie seemed so sure! Her words cut through the gloom, touching the hearts of those who heard them.
“You aren’t alone, you’ll never be alone, don’t ever forget that.”
Oksa suddenly felt very tired. Her eyes strayed towards Tugdual, who was staring at her solemnly. If the Outsiders couldn’t get into Edefia, he wouldn’t be separated from anyone in his family. All the Knuts were descendants of Insiders. Except for Tugdual’s father, who was already lost, swallowed up by the raging chaos that had overtaken a world fighting a losing battle.
“You ought to go and see Gus,” Marie suggested quietly. “He needs you.”
Oksa scanned the room; Gus was no longer there. He was standing farther away, silhouetted against the shimmering moonlight. With his back to the Runaways, he was leaning on the railing that ran the length of the temple, his black hair forming a curtain over his face. Oksa went over to stand beside him. They stayed silent for a moment, staring into space.
“Do you love him?” Gus asked suddenly.
“Who do you mean?” replied Oksa defensively.
“Who do you think I mean? Your ‘Goth Superman’.”
“Oh Gus,” whispered Oksa, exasperated. “Do you really think it’s the right time to talk about this?”
“We may not have the chance to talk like this again for a while…”
Oksa hunched over.
“What difference would it make?” she asked.
“Oksa—it makes all the difference!”
“Well, in that case, you’ll understand when I don’t answer your question.”
Gus turned to look at her. His blue eyes darkened.
“Don’t you think you owe me that much? It’s important for me to know if you love him or not.”
“Oh Gus,” sighed Oksa, the colour draining from her face.
“It’s only natural, isn’t it? Before my life is completely turned upside down, I’m entitled to know if you love someone else, aren’t I?”
“Am I imagining things or are you trying to pick a fight?” asked Oksa indignantly.
Gus scowled.
“It’s not like that…”
“It is,” replied Oksa, warily.
She tapped nervously on the polished wood of the railing, avoiding the slightest physical contact with Gus.
“Can I ask you something?” she continued after a few minutes.
“Mmmm…” said Gus.
She coughed. The words were stuck in her throat, but she eventually managed to ask hesitantly:
“Are you in love with me?”
Gus stood still as stone. Only his accelerated breathing gave him away.
“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice, looking straight ahead. “How could someone as brilliant and brave as me be interested in someone like you? Honestly! Take a good look at yourself, you’re dull, ugly, boring, thick and you have absolutely no sense of humour. Who’d want you apart from your ‘Swedish crow’?”
Oksa would have burst out laughing if Gus’s anguish wasn’t so obvious in those bitter-sweet words. During the embarrassing silence that followed, Gus studied the abandoned village for no good reason and Oksa took advantage of the moment to put her hand on his arm. He feebly tried to shake it off. Then, without thinking, she turned to him and gently kissed the corner of his mouth.