C h a p t e r T e n
Kumbolzee
The sky was dark and there was no sound aside from the chirping of bugs in the nearby foliage. The flapping of a dozen small grey birds overcame the stillness. They swooped in with a purpose, a design, and they all converged together. Where they joined together, a bright unnatural light overwhelmed them, and once they had all found the place, a loud musical note let the world know a mudokon had landed.
The person seemed to take note of where he was, peering around the gnarled purplish-green trees carefully.
The search was apparently useless, for there was nothing, no person, no animal; just the sound of a thousand chirping bugs.
The figure was holding was a long staff topped with a flowery assortment of petals. It seemed extravagant, large and bright. On his head were a multitude of bright features, in a similar design. He looked up just as the loud sound of wings began again, and from the dark recesses of the swamp flew seemingly hundreds of small grey birds, each one converging with another particular eleven before bursting into a mudokon.
Once they had finished, around 25 figures stood in the small clearing, each looking as bewildered as the next; some gazed around in wonderment while others trod softly in the strange earth. All of the newcomers were different from the staff-holder. While he seemed confident and alert, they seemed scared and confused. While he could be seen to be of purple and blue skin in the soft purple radiance that emitted from the trees, they were all uniformly green – some considerably paler than others. While he wore a long silky material, covered in colour, they wore dirty and stiff brown togas or loincloths.
‘Where are we? Airlia?’ ventured one from the crowd.
‘You will find out soon enough!’ replied the staff-holder. ‘Follow me!’ He seemed exuberant, cheerful, and a vast grin was spread across his face.
Airlia walked majestically forwards, using his flower-topped staff as a walking aid and heading straight into the tight-knit trees. The others followed him, tentatively at first, but gaining confidence and their bearings all the while.
After around twenty minutes of walking, in which all of the mudokons had quickly become experienced in climbing over massive curling roots, or crawling beneath them as they flicked in the air, Airlia called to the group, ‘Nearly there now! You’ll love it!’
A few groaned. Perhaps they had hoped they were closer.
The paths through the swamp were dark and wet. Many of the mudokons seemed to be frightened by much of the journey. There were no encounters with creatures; the swamp was utterly bereft of hostile life, but the mudokons could have simply been scared by the quietness, by the darkness, or by the eerie purple light, which was more akin to an unnatural glow, and haunted their every step.
Through the trees, tiny fast moving dots of bright white light could be seen. They flitted between trees, sometimes lighting up the trunks through the purple, other times just disappearing into the night.
Music began to be heard. Some of the more bored mudokons, who had been staring at their feet – refusing to take in their new surroundings – looked up into the night, heads suddenly held high.
The music was comprised solely of strings; it was slow, deep, yet welcoming and invigorating. Maybe the piece was being played specifically because of these newly teleported mudokons, but it seemed to mould to emotion. If you were sad, the music could feel sad and if you were happy, the music could only accentuate it.
Various streams and rivers washed across their path as they walked, and after a few more minutes, Airlia lithely hopped into one of the vast roots. He waited for a couple of minutes while the large crowd climbed up clumsily. When they were all up, some gasped in surprise and wonderment while others simply gaped.
The purple light of the trees lit it up perfectly: There was a city in the swamp. Houses, buildings and a plethora of bright orange-yellow lights could be seen built into the enormous trees and roots. The music was much louder, stronger, and it almost seemed to be nearing a climax. The main bulk of the town was inside an exceptionally wide hollowed stump of a tree. The area had a large rushing river gliding around it so the only way in and out of the city was on the giant roots curving and swerving inwards. In fact, so large were these roots that at least four mudokons abreast could walk across their tops.
The music began to run down softly, yet loudly, accompanying tiny little figures slowly making their way from the city down the winding routes towards Airlia. Their black silhouettes were starkly visible against the purple background.
Airlia began to lead them on once more, this time more slowly and taking more care with his staff. As they got closer, the beauty of the city began to be more fully revealed. The houses were round, but ornate with attractive decoration, and some were built higher than others up the sides of the utterly enormous trees – or the sides in the basin of the stump.
All the mudokons which had come out to greet them were dressed just like Airlia, with similar flowery-topped staffs. Somehow, they looked ecstatic, yet subdued at the same time – as if they were trying to hold in their happiness for the right introductory effect.
The notes of the music had got higher and higher, and as the two groups got particularly close to each other, near the city entrance, the furthermost mudokon stepped forwards from the well-dressed party.
His face lit up in a magnificent smile, before he boomed over the climaxed music, in a voice that writhed in happiness, ‘Welcome to Kumbolzee!’