Chapter Eight: The Accident
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
The next few days passed in a blur.
Bohdan was forbidden from leaving his Ma’s side any time he left the house. Every morning and every afternoon, Ma walked with him to and from the Dredge House. Every day she had new bruises and scratches. She claimed she got them harvesting cactree syrup, but Bohdan knew she was searching every inch of the caves within the Ridge while he was at work.
A great shift had settled in the Dune home. Neither of them spoke. Even the goats had gone quiet. Late into the night, Bohdan would hear Ma weeping. He didn’t know what to do or what should be done. And so, he did his best to help and focus on anything other than the enormous space Cobran’s absence left in their tiny home.
More and more wasps trickled in from the west. The firewinds would die out any day now, and soon, Bohdan and Ma would be trapped inside with nothing to do but stare Cobran’s missingness in the face.
Bohdan wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm as he harvested the last of the waterberries from their rooftop garden. There was enough for two pitcher’s worth. Perhaps Ma would be willing to trek up to the Pig Sty and drop some off for Fedir and his family.
“Hey, Wastey!”
Bohdan peered through the sandreed dome to the street below. Fedir’s golden hair shone in the blazing sun.
“Hey, Fed! What are you doing here?”
“Was in the neighborhood,” Fedir shrugged with a grinned. “Can I come in?”
A few minutes later the boys were back in the rooftop garden. Bohdan showed Fedir how to separate the sunweed flowers from their leaves so Ma wouldn’t have to do it later. The boys worked in comfortable silence as the buzzing of wasps flittered here and there.
“I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Thanks,” Bohdan said, unsure of what else to say. “Who told you?”
“Little Vexy Sparks if you can believe it. I heard him crying out by their Devil’s Hen house the other day. I hate to say it, but I felt bad for the guy. I know Cobran’s his best friend.”
“What did he say?”
Fedir shrugged. “All he said was Cobran was missing.”
The two boys worked side by side for a time, and Bohdan couldn’t help but think of Cobran. Bohdan barely knew Fedir and yet, he already felt more like a big brother to him than Cobran ever had. The young Lushlander was kind, funny, and helpful. A pang of shame hit Bohdan in the chest. What kind of person compared his missing brother to someone else?
“You hungry?” Fedir asked as he separated the last of the sunweed. He opened his lunch basket, Bohdan tried not to stare.
Four boiled devil-hen’s eggs, each as big as the palm of his hand, were nestled on a soft cloth. A small jar filled with a dark red jam, a thick wedge of goat cheese and a loaf of the strangest, most enticing looking bread Bohdan had ever seen. Oblong with a golden brown crust, and had been cut into six thick slices.
Ma was an incredible cook and young Bohdan knew they were lucky to have their goats. But he couldn’t help but wonder what Devil’s Hen eggs and soft bread tasted like. A warm smell emanated from the loaf that was so golden and wonderful, his mouth watered.
Fedir took a knife and spread a bit of the cheese onto a slice of bread. He added a dollop of the red jam and then sliced one of the eggs in half and placed it on top. Bohdan marveled at the little masterpiece.
“Here,” Fedir said as he handed Bohdan the beautifully crafted slice.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Bohdan’s cheeks burned, embarrassed. Fedir had no doubt seen him gawking at the food like a small child.
“Please take it. My ma made extra. I’ll never eat it all.”
Curiosity getting the better of him, Bohdan accepted. “Thanks,” he said as he carefully lifted the concoction from his friend’s hand. Fedir laughed as he busied himself making another slice.
The smell of the bread was almost overwhelming. Bohdan brought the slice to his mouth and took a large bite, taking care to get a bit of the egg too.
Words failed. Not in all his life did he think food could taste so delicious. The soft, warm bread. The tangy, creamy cheese. The sweet, velvety jam and hearty squish of the boiled egg. Bohdan wanted to close his eyes and find a way to make the moment last forever.
“If you think that’s good, you’ll need to come over for a roast sometime. My ma makes a roast devil’s hen that can bring a grown man to tears. Just ask my da.”
Bohdan agreed wholeheartedly. But once more a flicker of guilt crept along his chest. How could he sit and enjoy a meal or make fun plans when Cobran was missing? He’d laughed and joked and spent the day grateful for Fedir’s help and company. All the while his brother, for all he knew, was in the clutches of a deranged king deep underground.
The shame was so enormous and immediate, he nearly dropped his bread.
“I heard our ma’s talking yesterday.”
Bohdan jerked his head up. “You did?”
“Yeah, your ma came up to the Sty. She was talking to my ma about Cobran and Wren.”
Bohdan’s mouth went dry. Had Ma shared her crazy story? Forcing down his food, Bohdan tried to appear intrigued and not appalled. “Really? What for?”
“Because…” Fedir paused. He learned forward and spoke more quietly. “Wren didn’t die. At least, I don’t think she did. She disappeared. Almost a year ago.”
“Disappeared?” Bohdan’s heart sank. No doubt about it, Ma had shared her story. “What happened?”
“She and Ma were out collecting berries. Wren kept trying to tell Ma she heard music, but Ma didn’t believe her. We have a series of caves at the far end of our land, back home. There’s dozens of berry brambles. Wren was by the caves when she disappeared. We searched as far back as they go, but found nothing.”
“What did Ma say?”
Fedir raised his eyebrows. “She told a pretty crazy story. About some kingdom under a mountain in the Peaklands. Goblins and pipers,” Fedir laughed bitterly. “I was getting angry, to tell you the truth, but your ma seemed genuine. Really trying to help, you know? I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting liars and grief-greedys.”
“Grief-greedys?”
“People who take advantage of grieving people,” said Fedir. “Greedy scum who try to use your grief for attention. Your ma isn’t one of them.”
Bohdan stared down at the scrumptious bread but couldn’t bring himself to take another bite. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Cobran and Wren hearing music. Disappearing by caves. Could Ma really be telling the truth? If she was, that would mean the Perilum Tales…
Bohdan shook his head. He didn’t know what to believe. Ma was a storyteller, always had been. But she wasn’t a liar.
“What do you think?” He asked Fedir. “About Ma’s story.”
“I don’t know,” Fedir sighed before taking a large bite of bread. “Wren vanished a year ago. We had a memorial and everything. My da thought it would help my ma move forward. But a part of me…” Fedir stopped, clearly wrestling with his emotions.
“Part of me still believes she is alive. Da thinks it’s because we never found her body. We never got that closure.”
Bohdan didn’t know what to say. Death was such a monstrous thing. So final. But a disappearance? It was like a story with no ending, stretching ever on. It was a kind of cruelty, he came to understand from getting to know Fedir, that took over one’s life like a wound that always festered, but never killed you.
“I want to believe my ma” Bohdan said before he could stop himself. “If Cobran was taken, from the sound of it, Wren might have been too. And if they were, chances are they’re still alive.”
Fedir frowned. But Bohdan continued.
“Ma said grown-ups can’t find their way into the mountain, only kids can. Grown-ups can’t hear the music either.”
Fedir stared at him now, clearly bemused. “I don’t mean to doubt you're ma, Wastey, but this is the stuff of fairytales. Besides, to get to the Peaklands you’d have to cross through the Marshlands first, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” Fedir said as he took another bite of food.
Bohdan knew better than to doubt that. Even Ma was afraid of the Marshlands.
“I would do it though,” Fedir continued. “I’d cross the Marshlands, if it meant finding Wren, in a heartbeat. But…”
Fedir finished his slice of bread and took a swig of water from his canteen. All the while Bohdan could see him considering his next words carefully.
“I couldn’t do it to my ma. When Vexil said she had gone mad he…he wasn’t wrong. That’s why I got so angry.” He broke off and cleared his throat. “She has gone a bit mad. She’s not actually crazy or anything, but it’s like a part of her broke when Wren vanished. If something happened to me or another one of my siblings…she…she wouldn’t survive it.”
Bohdan thought of Ma weeping in the night. She hadn’t gone mad but maybe that’s because she was convinced she knew where Cobran was. Despite her grief, she believed he was safe at the very least.
“Are you thinking of going?” Fedir asked, breaking Bohdan’s train of thought.
“To the Peaklands?” Bohdan laughed, nervously. “No way. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly hero material.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone,” Bohdan said sheepishly. “Cobran and Vexil call me, ‘Bohdan the Brave!’ just to rub it in my face.”
“Why? Because you’ve been the designated punching bag? That doesn’t make you a coward. But it sure says a lot about them. My older brothers can be a pain, but they’d sooner walk across hot coals than let anyone treat me the way Cobran and those thugs have treated you.”
Bohdan was touched, though a bit embarrassed. “I hate walking in the wastes alone. I get nervous when I hear strange noises. I get anxious when things change.” Bohdan forced the tears threatening to well in his eyes back down. “I’d never make it through the Marshlands. I’ve never been farther than the Wasting Well.”
“So what. Everyone gets scared. What matters is if you do what scares you anyway.”
That night, Bohdan couldn’t sleep. His conversation with Fedir kept replaying over and over in his head. Fedir was brave and older than Bohdan. He had been through the Marshlands once before and would know what to expect.
What hope would Bohdan have if he tried to venture through the marsh alone? Not even a fool’s hope, he was certain. But maybe, with a little more convincing, he could persuade Ma to go.
The following morning, Bohdan found himself in one of those rare moments when time stands still.
More often than not, I am desperately sorry to say, it happens when something enormously terrible happens to you. When reality feels too impossible to wrap your head and heart around, and so, time, for a brief moment, stops.
Bohdan’s feet had barely touched the ground when the front door burst open. Marco, Solenna’s da, stood in the doorway with Ma draped across his arms. Her eyes were closed. A deep gash on her right temple had been packed with sand, her hands and chin badly scraped.
“What happened?” Bohdan swayed and clung to the ladder for support. “Is..is she dead?”
“No, thank the Winds,” Marco said thickly as he hurried her inside. Bohdan could hear the buzzing of wasps and rushed to lock the front door. Marco groaned as he rested Ma down on her bed. His arms and face were lined with angry red welts.
“She fell climbing out of the easternmost cave. I was trying to tell her to stop but she couldn’t hear me over the winds and the blasted buzzing. She lost her footing before…before I could reach her.”
It felt as though all the air had been ripped out of Bohdan’s lungs. The easternmost cave of the Ridge was the closest to the ground, but it was still a long way to fall. Tears streamed down Bohdan’s face as he stared down at Ma, who suddenly looked so small and fragile.
“But, she’s going to be okay. Right, Marco?”
But Marco didn’t answer.
Tune in next week for the next chapter of Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales!
“We Wait on the Winds.”
-Periwinkle
This is so well done, Ali! You're a great storyteller, and I can't wait for the next chapter!!