Chapter Ten: Teller's Point
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
Warmest greetings and salutations!
What awaits Bohdan this week, I wonder? If you need to catch up on any previous chapters, you can do so here!
Happy reading!
The sun was beginning to set. Bohdan marveled as it became clear what he believed to be a termite mound wasn’t a mound at all, but a crumbling ancient fortress. He was still a ways off, but even now the uneven towers stretched up toward the sky like skeletal arms.
A wide smile broke across Bohdan’s face as he stared. The turquoise water of the Lost Sea glistened in the setting sunlight just beyond. And that wasn’t just any colossal ruin. His detour in the river had turned his two day journey into a mere handful of hours.
He’d made it to Teller’s Point.
The overall design had slowly been lost to the hands of time. Bohdan studied the russet structure, considered the sheer height of the tallest tower and tried to imagine what it must have looked like in its former glory. Long ago, it had been home to a group of people called “Tellers,” not dissimilar to prophets. Citizens traveled from every corner of Gallimaufria to speak with the Tellers in the hopes of receiving guidance or instruction from the Ancient Winds. But Tellers, like Teller’s Point, were a thing of the past.
Bohdan made his way along the outer wall and came upon a half-hidden walkway peeking out from the sand. Peering round, Bohdan saw a rusted iron gate stuck halfway up from the ground. He ducked his head and found himself in an empty courtyard. Four walls of sandstone surrounded him, each topped with endless towers and turrets. The walkway led up a slight incline to an absolutely gargantuan set of wooden doors.
And standing in front of the doors was a woman.
Bohdan startled. He’d never seen anyone so old. She nearly blended in with the landscape. Her skin was as taupe and weathered as the doors behind her. Thin copper-colored robes hid her tiny frame. Her pure-white hair reached down to her ankles and flowed listlessly in the breeze, the only thing exposing her.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” said the woman, her hands clasped together excitedly. “I always hoped I would get to meet you, young Bohdan.”
Bohdan studied her warily before realization dawned on him. “Aunt Irenie?”
“Oh, yes, my boy!” She beamed as she took a few steps toward him. Bohdan continued up the walkway until he was an arms reach away. Her periwinkle eyes sparkled. She was so tiny, she made Bohdan feel tall.
“Welcome, welcome to Teller’s Point. You must have quite a tale to travel here alone.” Her smile weakened a little. “Where is the rest of your family?”
“Back in Ravo.” Bohdan bit his lower lip. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so nervous. “Ma had an accident and I wondered…I hoped you would come and see her.”
Aunt Irenie’s eyes widened. “What kind of accident?”
Bohdan hesitated. “She fell off the Ridge while out looking for my brother, Cobran. He’s been missing for almost two weeks.”
A look of undeniable sadness settled upon the aged woman’s face.
“Missing? I see,” she said slowly. “I am so terribly sorry to hear that, my boy. I can only imagine how things have been for you all. Of course I will go to her. We will leave at dawn.”
Aunt Irenie held out a hand toward the fortress. “For now, please, come inside and get some food and rest. You must be absolutely exhausted. Not many people veer so close to Deadman Falls and live to see another day.”
Bohdan stared at her. “How did you know I was near the falls?”
“A little bird told me,” she smiled. “Or, rather, a fairly large bird. Patrona, my falcon. She’s been keeping an eye out for children in need for nearly as long as I have.”
Aunt Irenie led him toward the large doors, up close intricate carvings of various plants and animals scaled the wood from top to bottom. Neglect and the harsh Wasteland sun had paled and weathered the wood, but to Bohdan it only added to the mystery of the queer place.
“Tales of old,” the woman said as she pulled on one of the great twisted iron handles. “Older than me if you can believe it.”
He wasn’t sure he could. Ma hadn’t been exaggerating. She had to be over a hundred years old.
Bohdan followed her into a dark corridor. The stark contrast after the blinding light of the wastes messed with his eyes, making it nearly impossible to see.
“Your vision will settle in a minute or two,” Aunt Irenie reassured him with a pat on the shoulder.
As the far end of the hallway, an orange glow illuminated a wall of sandstone. As the pair turned toward the light, Bohdan couldn’t believe his eyes. They were standing at the entrance of a glorious hall. Bohdan gazed around the room, trying to make sense of it all. He felt as though he’d stepped into a dream.
“What is this place?” He asked.
“The Hall,” Aunt Irenie said simply as she smiled.
Though he’d never traveled outside of the Wastelands, Bohdan was certain there was no grander room in the whole of Gallimaufria. The vaulted ceilings towered above them in great arches, coming to a point and creating an array of angles and flat spaces. Every inch was painted so vividly it looked real. Dark green forests, snow-capped mountains, lush golden fields and a silky blue river, fiery stretches of orange and red sand, and a turquoise sea filled with creatures of the deep.
Three large iron circles hung down on great chains. Each circle was lined with hundreds of flickering candles, casting a warm glow all about the Hall. Beneath the hanging candles was a long wooden table fit for a king, with two wooden benches on either side. The amount of wood was baffling. Nearly everything in the Wastelands was made from clay, woven sandreed or sandbricks.
The Hall itself was a spacious rectangle. Three of the four walls were simply decorated with iron sconces, each holding a candle the size of a small child. On the far wall hung a series of exquisite tapestries depicting swirling winds, a mighty silver tree, and a fierce winged creature with skin that twinkled like the night sky.
“Is that a Perilum?” Bohdan asked without taking his eyes off of the chilling beast.
Aunt Irenie winked. “Stories for another time.”
Right at that moment two lines of children entered the room. Each dressed in crisp, clean tunics of red, orange and cream. They came to the grand table and took their seats.
Bohdan stared. They were all healthy and smiling. There wasn’t a child amongst them with jutting cheekbones or sunken eyes like the kids in Ravo. The oldest girl looked about seventeen, while the youngest children couldn’t be older than two or three.
“Come,” said Aunt Irenie as she gestured toward the table.
Bohdan hardly recognized anything within the clay bowls besides the stewed cactus and fried blaze beetles. A group of adults came into the Hall, two carried large bowls filled with a steaming red liquid. Others held stacks of clay cups, utensils, and smaller bowls. The smell wafted all around, warm and salty. Bohdan’s mouth watered as a bald man with kind eyes placed a bowl in front of him.
Once everyone was settled, Aunt Irenie stood up. “We have an honored guest this evening,” she began. “This is Bohdan Dune of Ravo. We honor him and his family tonight.”
She reached down and grabbed the cup in front of her and held it up in the air. “May we eat. May we drink. May we find satisfaction in our toil. For from the dust we came, to the dust we go. Canmol.”
“Canmol!” The group replied in unison, though one of the smaller boys sang it out in a jolly tune much to the amusement of the table.
A dark-skinned woman began pouring ladlefuls of the bright red liquid into smaller bowls and handed them down to the eagerly awaiting children. A freckled, green-eyed girl, Bohdan guessed to be his age, sat beside him and smiled as she carefully handed him a bowl. Steam coiled up into his face. He was so ravenous he wanted to shove his face right into the soup like a goat.
“Help yourself to anything on the table,” Aunt Irenie instructed. “You need only ask for it to be passed to you.”
But before Bohdan could say a word the other children took turns naming the different dishes and insisting he try everything. Roasted fire-cabbage, deviled tortoise eggs, dollops of red pepper jelly over clouds of creamed goat cheese to be scooped up with sandreed crackers. Onlookers cackled as he bit into a bright green pepper which immediately resulted in Bohdan lunging for a cup of goat’s milk.
“What was that?” Bohdan gasped. His eyes watered as his tongue stung ruthlessly.
“We call them ‘beggars’,” Aunt Irenie chuckled as she refilled his cup with more milk. “Because you’ll be begging for relief as soon as they touch your tongue. We get them from the borders of the Marshlands. Make sure to wipe your eyes with a napkin and not your fingers.”
Bohdan shook his head then wiped his eyes carefully with a cloth napkin. “Why would anyone eat something that spicy?”
“Oh, they’re not so bad when you’re as old as I am. Your taste buds dull a bit. A good kick of spice is nice every now and then.”
He would have to take her word for it. As far as Bohdan was concerned, he’d never touch another pepper for as long as he lived.
Once everyone had eaten their fill Aunt Irenie stood, though it hardly made a difference, as petite as she was. All the same, the children and adults immediately hushed to listen.
“I will be journeying to Ravo early tomorrow morning. Bohdan’s mother is a dear friend of mine, who once lived here as a girl herself, and is in need of a friend. In my absence, Gus and Minnow and will be overseeing everyone’s needs. Patrona will be here and can be used for correspondence should it be needed.”
“What has happened to her, Aunt Irenie?” The girl beside Bohdan asked, her green eyes glistening.
“A story for another time, Oona dearest,” Aunt Irenie said tenderly as she reached out and swept the young girl’s pale hair behind her ear.
“Now, I’m sure you’d all love to pepper our guest with questions, but he’s had a long journey as it is and will be commencing once more before dawn. He and I have some business to attend to before the night’s end. I ask you children to heed your elders and I will be back before you know it.”
Bohdan followed the old woman up a narrow winding staircase. He was beginning to wonder if it reached all the way to the moon.
“This will be your room for the evening,” Aunt Irenie said as she stepped into a dark hallway and opened another carved wooden door. “I hope it will suffice.”
The bedroom was the size of his entire home back in Ravo. It was simply decorated with a wooden bed in the corner and a small table and chairs near the center of the room. Thin white curtains billowed in the sea breeze from the large window directly across from the door. The sandstone floor was mostly hidden beneath a luxurious, albeit aged, ruby red and midnight blue rug.
Everything about Teller’s Point was a mystery. He’d lost count of the endless spiraling staircases and corridors they’d walked through to reach this room. From the outside, it looked little more than a dilapidated sandcastle.
“Now,” Aunt Irenie said as she took a seat at the small table. “I know you are exhausted but indulge an old woman before sleep claims us both, won’t you?”
Bohdan took the seat beside her just as Patrona perched onto the window’s ledge.
“Ah, Patrona old girl,” Aunt Irenie beamed. “You did well, my friend.”
“She saved me twice. Once from a waspwind and wasterbeast stampede, and again at the falls.”
“And you won’t be the last. Many of the people you saw downstairs found their way here thanks to Patrona.”
The golden falcon ruffled its feathers, as though embarrassed by all the fuss made on her account.
“Not to cut right to it, but I will all the same.” Aunt Irenie swept her white hair along the back of her neck so that it spilled into her lap. “You said your mother got hurt while out looking for Cobran, and that he has been missing for a couple weeks now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Aunt Irenie, please, my boy,” she patted his hand and eyed him intently. Her white hair moved in the same feathery way as the curtains. “Does your mother have any idea where your brother might be?”
Bohdan bit his lip. If she didn’t believe what he was about to say…then that would mean he was right. Ma was in shock and slowly losing her mind, just like Fedir’s ma. The thought was too terrible, too heartbreaking to imagine.
“Well?”
Bohdan took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Ma said Cobran is in the Peaklands. Taken by magical music to a kingdom beneath the mountains. She said she was the great granddaughter of the king who rules there. A king with magic and an army of rats and goblins and pipers.”
Bohdan forced himself to hold her gaze, but her expression was unreadable. She leaned back and looked down at the table between them, as still as a statue.
“Aunt Irenie?”
She glanced up at him now and smiled sadly. “I have a gift for you,” she said as she reached into a hidden pocket in her long tunic. “It belonged to your mother.”
She stretched out her wrinkled hand and resting in her palm was a small, oval pendant on an iridescent string. The pendant looked like woven hair beneath glass, which shimmered with the same iridescence the necklace.
Bohdan frowned, confused. Had she heard a word he’d said? “Thank you…What is it?”
“Would you like the simple answer?”
“I suppose so,” Bohdan reached out and took the necklace, then traced the pendant with his finger.
“Well then…magic.”
Bohdan looked up abruptly. “Like the magic here?”
“Yes and no,” Aunt Irenie answered slowly. “The magic protecting this place was a gift given long, long ago, when the Wastelands were the home of a great king. The origins lost to the sands of time. But this,” she said as she tapped the pendant like a small bird, “this magic is something different. It comes from deep within the mountains. I cannot begin to understand the ins and outs of it, but this I know for certain. This magic only works if you believe it can. It’s an ordinary pendant otherwise.”
Bohdan frowned. “Who wouldn’t want to believe in magic?”
“Oh, plenty of people. Faith is a gift. A gift that precious few hold on to as they get older. I’ve seen faith accomplish wonders that magic couldn’t touch in a hundred lifetimes.”
“But what does it do? The pendant?”
Aunt Irenie cocked her chin and squinted at a place upon the ceiling, as if searching for the words. “It will guide you,” she said at last.
The old woman got to her feet and began walking toward the door. Bohdan’s mind swirled with questions.
“Wait! My ma…” he said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “So it’s true. She’s really from a kingdom beneath a mountain in the Peaklands?”
Aunt Irenie gave a quick nod.
Bohdan swallowed. “Do you think she’s going to be alright?”
Aunt Irenie bowed her head. The posture did nothing to comfort him. After a long minute she met his gaze and looked at him in the way a loving grandmother might.
“Who can know when our time is up in this world? I cannot promise you she will be alright, though I desperately wish I could. But, I will tell you this and you would do well to remember it. Your mother is one of the strongest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She is determined and she loves you and your brother more than life itself. That kind of love cannot be hindered by something as temporary as life. She will fight for you. Even from the ether in which she finds herself, she will fight.”
Tears stung at the corners of Bohdan’s eyes. “Was she always so brave?”
“Oh yes,” Aunt Irenie said as she came back to Bohdan and cupped his face in her remarkably soft hands. “But, like you, it took her time to believe it.”
Bohdan felt a tear slip down his cheek as she smiled down at him.
“Sleep well, dearest Bohdan. Who knows what adventures await you in the morning.”
Tune in next Monday for the next chapter of Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales!
“We Wait on the Winds”
-Periwinkle Twist
Another winner! Can't wait to read what happens next!