Chapter Fifteen: Chaosity
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
Warmest Greetings and Salutations!
Another week, another adventure awaits for our favorite Wastelander, Lushlander, and Deadwood orphan.
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The closer they got to the Chaosity, the smoother the road became. The marshy landscape gradually gave way to grassy paths, wildflowers, and leafy green shrubs. Crystal clear skies stretched overhead. Bohdan breathed deeply of the crisp, clean air as a soft breeze blew in from the west.
For miles, all that lay before them were sprawling orchards. Ruby red orbs and bright orange spheres of fruit hung from the trees. After warring against their conscience for the better half of the morning, they each allowed themselves one fruit. Bohdan bit into the orangey morsel. Juice as bright as sunlight flooded his tongue. If he were to live a hundred lifetimes and eat a thousand things, he was certain nothing would ever taste as heavenly.
An hour or so later, Silver stopped abruptly and gasped. Bohdan hurried to her side and stared in disbelief.
The neatly planted rows of orchard led up to the walls of a magnificent city. Towering buildings of gold shone in the sunlight. Massive snow-capped mountains carved their way across the southern skyline, creating a dramatic backdrop of Gallimaufria’s captial.
They’d made it Chaosity.
Even from miles away, Bohdan could feel the buzz in the air. Flags of purple, blue, and crimson waved wildly atop the formidable golden wall surrounding the urban haven. He’d expected it to be smaller, but Chaosity seemed to extend forever on. There’d be no going around it.
They would have to go through.
His palms grew clammy with each step. There had to be hundreds of thousands of people living within the city walls. On the one hand, it should make it very easy for them to blend in. On the other hand, Silver’s hair was going to stick out like a sore thumb, and the Collector didn’t strike him as someone to back down from a fight. If that vile woman had as many connections as she claimed, chances were she already had scouts searching for them.
Bohdan stopped. They were already filthy, head to toe in muck from the marsh. He glanced back at Silver. Despite it all, her shimmering hair almost glowed against the grime of the swamp.
“We need to cover your hair,” Bohdan told her as he bent down and dug into the ground until he reached the moister dirt.
Silver grimaced. “Not with that you’re not,” she snapped.
“Silver, please. The Collector isn’t going to give up. You heard her yourself. She’s planning on making a fortune on selling you. Most Gallimaufrians haven’t seen a soul from the Deadwood in over a century. You need a disguise.”
Silver crossed her arms over her chest, clearly annoyed.
“What’s a little more dirt going to hurt, Silvy?” Fedir chimed in as dug some dirt into his own hands.
“I’ll tell you what it will hurt if you take so much as one more step.” Her silver eyes flashed dangerously.
Fedir held his hands up in surrender and flung the dirt back onto the ground. Silver huffed, then turned her back to Bohdan. “Go ahead.”
Careful to cover every strand, Bohdan smoothed the damp dirt over her hair then coiled it into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“Fishes below, Wastey,” Fedir laughed as she turned around. “It’s perfect! Her hair genuinely looks black.”
Silver eyed Fedir suspiciously before looking over at Bohdan.
“It really does, Silv. Blends right in.”
Her shoulders relax a little. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Sweet and spicy air wafted all around. The excited buzz of people chatting and hurrying past one another filled the air as they entered through the towering gates. The noise echoed off the closely packed gold buildings of Chaosity. Bohdan felt as though he’d entered a forest of strange, golden towers. Upon closer inspection he noticed the bricks and stones weren’t actually gold, as he’d assumed, but painted.
The structures just within the wall were smaller and a bit run down. Strings of clothes hung between buildings, attached to the window panes. Food carts and peddler stands aligned the cobbled streets, covered with brightly colored fruits stacked in great piles and skewers of sizzling meats spread across platters.
Folksy music rang out from different side streets as they hurried along. Strangely dressed musicians, playing stringed instruments and pounding on leather boxes, were stationed at nearly every corner.
Women in silky gowns walked by twirled ribbons of green and purple high into the air. With a whip of their hands an explosion of confetti burst from where the ribbons had once been, followed by cheers from passersby. Violet clouds of smoke crept down in tendrils from open windows, smelling of flowers and a cloying earthy scent Bohdan couldn’t place.
“I would rather crawl across hot coals as naked as the day I was born than to spend another second in this place,” Fedir moaned.
Just then a pretty woman with pale pink hair down to her ankles stuck a flower behind Fedir’s ear as she passed. Immediately, he began to sneeze. Fedir yanked the flower from his hair and flung it onto the ground.
“Bah! There’s something unnatural in that flower. It made me feel…well…it made me feel. Let’s leave it at that.”
The chaos and constant movement of the city made it difficult to distinguish people as they walked by. Everywhere Bohdan looked, grown-ups and children had painted themselves in an array of colors. One woman was painted head to foot in lavender. Another, brilliant blue. All around, people had colored their hair in a series of unnatural hues, and sporting metallic tattoos.
“I think we could have gone without the mud-job,” Silver said as she pointed to a young man with shining silver hair, though his lacked the luminescence of Silver’s true locks.
“Better safe than sorry, Silvy,” Fedir grumbled, clearly overwhelmed by the city.
Chaosity had no symmetry or reason. Streets zigzagged and turned at odd angles. Ancient stone buildings stood beside timbered ones with pointed roofs and slender windows, all of which had been painted gold. Violet smoke continued to billow out of windows as they walked, some clouds more potent than others. It made Bohdan’s head spin and left a foul aftertaste on his tongue.
As they ventured further into the city, sky blue and white fumes spilled into the open air. With each passing cloud, he found it harder and harder to keep a clear head.
“We need to get out of here,” Fedir groaned as he rubbed his temples. “I can’t think straight with all this poison clouding up the air.”
Bohdan took a sharp turn down what could hardly be called a street. He extended his arms out to either side and touched each building with his fingertips. The timbered structures tilted towards each other, leaving only a small bit of sky between them. At the end of the alleyway awaited a great space overrun with people. As Bohdan stepped out of the cramped alley a throng of color, noise, and movement erupted before them.
They were standing at the edge of a sprawling market place. A large stage sat directly across from them, covered with the banners of each territory and the Gallimaufrian flag. The Wasteland banner was easy to spot. Fiery red with a pillar of salt in its center. And in the middle of the stage sat an extravagant golden throne.
Men and women in bizarre, feathered hats walked precariously on stilts through the jubilant crowd. People stood on balconies, cheering and dancing as they tossed handfuls of what looked like multicolored sand or bits of glass out into the square.
Clouds of every color spilled down from the windows of the towering timbered and stone buildings, cloaking the air with so many sweet, acidic smells, Bohdan was sure he’d heave the little contents of his stomach all over the ground.
Fedir called out over the noise. “We need to get out of here, Wastey. I’m going to be sick.”
Bohdan peered back at Silver, who looked peaked and withdrawn.
“We’ll stick to the edge,” said Bohdan, “and find an alley to sneak back into,”
A chorus of music erupted into the din. A large group of people hurried up onto the great stage, playing silver, gold and copper-colored instruments. The audience cheered and began dancing, joyously to the vibrant song. More than once Bohdan got shoved to the side as he tried to weave a path for himself and the other two through the crowd.
After a few minutes the music stopped, and a rich voice rang out over the jubilation.
“Greetings and salutations!” A man cried out cheerfully. “Welcome, one and all!”
Bohdan stood on tiptoe to get a better look at the stage, and saw a man dressed in the whitest clothes he’d ever seen. A silky tunic layered over billowy pants. His bone-white hair spilled down over his shoulder and disappeared into the whiteness of his clothes. His orange skin reminded Bohdan of the cliffs back in the Wastelands.
“Welcome to another day of Deliverance! Where we, the breakers of chains, redeemers of pleasured pursuits, rescuers of expression and extractors of restrictions, celebrate life in its purest form. May I be the first to welcome you to our Utopia of Wonders, and if you don’t know who I am, all I can say to you is pity, pity, pity!”
He paused for effect. The crowd roared with laughter on cue.
“Some call me the Charmer. The Magus Supreme. Reality’s Betwitcher! Others, the Oracler. The Alchemist of Dreams and Warlock of Paradise! But you? You my friends must decide for yourselves who I am to you. And until such a time, may you be content with the name bestowed upon me by my beloved, Dutchess of a mother, Heraldon Abraxio Delomant Vitruvius Lors III, or, more simply, Raxio.”
The crowd erupted once more into wails and cheers. Two grown women painted melon-yellow clapped and sobbed hysterically.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” One of them blubbered happily through her tears.
“Sheer perfection!” A man with a feathery purple mustache agreed.
Bohdan pushed past as a thick cloud of emerald, green smoke engulfed him, burning his nostrils and making his head swim.
“Wastey, she’s fading!”
Before he could turn around, Silver toppled headlong into Bohdan’s shoulder. He and Fedir each supported one of her arms as Silver’s head drooped down.
Fedir shouted at people to get out of their way, but nearly everyone seemed to be completely oblivious to anything other than Raxio. Whatever was in the colored smoke, Bohdan wanted to get as far away from it as possible.
They made their way through the crowded square as Raxio continued his speech. But with one last hurrah, the man hollered out, “Happiest of days my dear Chaositians! And most importantly, Happy Heraldon Day!”
Complete pandemonium broke out at this final hurrah. Bohdan clung tightly to Silver as the dancing commenced.
“Over there!” He shouted to Fedir.
They came upon a nearly deserted alleyway. The boys put Silver down gently and gave her some room to breathe as she tenderly massaged her head.
“None of that poison is spilling from the windows in here,” Fedir said as he squinted up at the surrounding buildings. “How’s your head, Silvy?”
“Fine,” she answered quietly. “Just give me a minute.”
“Any idea what Heraldon Day is?” Bohdan asked as he stared back into the throng of chaos. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“My da said that King Lors rarely leaves his room. His nephew, Raxio, has taken it upon himself to plan a new festival at the beginning of every month,” Fedir groaned as he rubbed his eyes. “I thought the Wastelands had to be the most miserable place on the planet when we first moved. But I’d happily spent the rest of my days in the Pig Sty than ever set foot here or the Marshlands ever again. You couldn’t pay me all the gold coin in Gallimaufria to live here.”
“Speaking of money,” Bohdan said gloomily. He hadn’t thought about it before. He hadn’t needed to. Wastelanders work in trade, and any money Ma earned she would spend here in the city for things they needed. “How are we going to get anything to eat without money?”
“You can't, I'm afraid.”
Bohdan whipped around. Standing behind him, beside a ludicrously small door, was an old man. He had a mass of curly gray hair which almost looked blue and a beard down to his knees. He held up a purple framed monocle to one eye. The other was covered by a leather patch. He had one eye-brow raised at them as if they had just done something amiss or naughty.
“Unless, of course, you steal it.”
“I’ve never stolen anything,” said Fedir defensively. “None of us have.”
Bohdan could help but notice Silver hung her head a little lower at Fedir’s words. As poor as he was, he’d never been tempted to steal anything before. Partly because he knew it was wrong, but mostly because the thought of getting into trouble frightened him out of doing most dishonest things.
“Then you cannot be from here,” said the man. “Thievery is an art in Chaosity. From the looks of it, you three have hobbled in from the Marshlands.”
“Our friend has a bit of a headache,” offered Bohdan. “We just needed a rest and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Ah yes, the fumes are downright unforgivable during festivals,” the man sighed as he peered down the alley at the square. “And thanks to the loquacious Lord Raxio, one festival has hardly finished when another begins. It’s wreaking havoc on my petunias and lullaby lemons.”
The three children said nothing, as none of them had ever heard of a petunia or cared about Raxio’s festivals. But the Collector, they knew, was far from giving up her hunt and they needed to find food and somewhere to rest if they were going to make it through the city undetected.
“Pray, tell me what a Wastelander, a Lushlander and…a child of the north, were doing in the horrors of the Marshlands? Let alone coming to Chaosity?”
None of them answered, but each looked back and forth at one another. For all they knew, this man worked the Collector.
“Children traveling alone in the marsh are either working for the Collector or, most impossibly, have in fact, escaped her Collectorship,” the man said quietly.
“We did,” Silver said haughtily. “We got away.”
Bohdan rubbed his thumb across his pendant. He didn’t know why, but there was something about the older man that reminded him of Aunt Irenie. Just as he was thinking this, the man stepped closer.
“If you got away from the Collector you’re not safe here,” he whispered. “She has spies all over this city. Those dirty little rodents do her bidding, and the bidding of those even fouler than she. You should head for the Lushlands or the Flatlands. They have homes for orphaned children, and they’re a far cry better than anything you hope to find here.”
“We’re headed for the Peaklands,” said Bohdan. He could feel Silver shooting him a nasty glare.
The man’s face darkened. “The Peaklands are the last place for the likes of you three, let alone in your condition,” said the man. “The Sisters, and others, rule those mountains. It is no place for children.”
“We seek the king beneath the mountain,” Bohdan said firmly. “It’s why we’ve come this far.”
A loud clang followed by the loud banter of a gaggle of teenage girls spilled into the alley. The tallest one, with dark purple hair and almond eyes, smiled at Bohdan, whose cheeks burned scarlet before turning away.
“Come inside, quickly,” the man said as he walked back to the tiny door and stepped inside.
“No way.” Silver grabbed Bohdan by the hem of his tunic. “He’s a stranger and probably working for the Collector. We need to leave.”
Bohdan stole a glance at the small doorway and then held his pendant up on his palm. Instantly, the glimmering thread appeared.
And it led into the tiny door.
“Well,” Fedir said as he ran his fingers through his filthy hair. “The last time we didn’t follow the thread we came face to face with Vody Laiths.”
Movement from down the alleyway caught Bohdan’s eye. The purple-haired girl was walking toward them, a rueful smile on her face.
“Let’s go,” Bohdan said quickly. “Come on, Silver.”
She scowled but got to her feet. Bohdan hurried toward the door. As soon as they were inside, the curly-haired man slid a large beam across the door with a frightening thud.
Thanks for reading! Tune in next week for the next installment of Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales!
“We Wait on the Wind”
-Periwinkle Twist