Chapter Five: The Lushlander
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
Once a month children in the Wastelands were permitted to attend school for one whole day.
In different circumstances, dear reader, I believe Bohdan would have rather enjoyed school. He loved to learn and to be around other children doing something besides slaving away in the Dredge House. But, as fate would cruelly have it, it also meant that once a month Vexil Sparks and his rapscallion gang used poor Bohdan as a human punching bag.
All night he’d tossed and turned over what to do with his Wind Goggles. The last thing he wanted was for Vexil’s gang to get their greedy hands on them. In the end, he decided to err on the side of caution, and gave them to Ma for safekeeping.
The mile-and-a-half walk to school was more insufferable than ever after having worn the beloved goggles. The firewinds whipped and surged, pelting his unprotected eyes with sand. Bohdan walked head-down, but it made little difference. The winds were exceptionally ruthless right before the turning of the seasons. Already the occasional wasp and sandhopper flitted by. Soon, the perpetually cloudless sky would become rolling columns of buzzing insects.
At last, the school house came into view. The unassuming mud brick building sat in the sliver of shade at the base of the Ridge. The monstrous red-rock wall towered over the underwhelming structure like a Devil’s Hen protecting her chick. And glinting in the fierce sunlight, running in a straight line down the ridge wall, was a most precarious looking open-air elevator.
The Pigs had seen to the installment of the futuristic contraption soon after their arrival in the wastes. As the Pig Sty was high upon the Ridge, with close access to the Wasting Well, but far from the Dry Sea floor and the city of Shard, the elevator allowed them down into the valley in half the time it would take to walk. It also prevented the children of the Pig Sty from overexerting themselves with something as tedious as inconvenience. The elevator was a mere twenty steps away from the school house doors.
Bohdan crossed the threshhold into a world of noise. The overcrowded room was hot and filled to the brim with the smell of sweaty adolescence. Underfed, raggedy dressed kids in sun-bleached tunics from Ravo were easy to distinguish from the well-fed, finely dressed kids from the Pig Sty. Six rusty, round tables were spaced about the room with ten ceramic stools for the students sit on.
His heart sank as he scanned the tables for open seats. Solenna was nowhere to be seen, and the only remaining spot was next to Vexil Sparks. His stomach seized. Lootie Infernotta, a petite, Pig Sty girl wearing a russet tunic sat on the other side of the empty stool. Trying his best to seem unbothered, Bohdan took the seat in between Lootie and Vexil.
“Hi Lootie.”
She grimaced, as if his very voice offended her. “Hi.”
Bohdan peered around the table. Cobran sat on the other side of Vexil, not that he took any notice of his younger brother. Pyre Char, the fourteen-year-old Wasper and close friend of Vexil’s who reminded Bohdan of an ogre. Embert Blaze, a thirteen-year-old Pig’s son who was as beady-eyed as the rat from the Wasting Well. Lootie’s frenemy, Jone Skorch, the beauty of Ravo and, without a doubt, the meanest girl in the Wastelands. Everyone knew Vexil was sweet on Jone and had been forever, but she was busy chatting to a golden-haired boy Bohdan had never seen before.
Bohdan stared. They never had new kids. Let alone one with hair to rival the sun. No one ever moved to the Wastelands. He watched the blonde-haired boy, who smiled and chatted with Jone with ease. His hair was shaven on either side of his head, with a mane of wild golden locks running down the middle. An impressive scar ran from his right ear and down his neck, as if a large claw had taken a swipe at him. Bohdan shuddered. The boy’s eyes met Bohdan’s for one short second before Bohdan found himself shoved facedown into the table.
“What, Dune, no greeting for your old pal?” Vexil locked an arm around Bohdan’s neck and ran a knuckled fist roughly back and forth over his head.
Scalp burning, Bohdan tried to no avail to pry Vexil’s arm away. Cobran’s cackles and guffaws from around the table only added to the humiliation. He was dangerously close to crying when Vexil’s arm broke loose with such force, Bohdan fell back onto the ground.
Bohdan rolled over to find the golden-haired boy standing beside him, a challenging look on his face as he glared down at Vexil. Vexil, meanwhile, looked as if the new kid had suddenly sprouted a second head.
“You got a death wish, sunweed?” Vexil snarled.
“Everyone to their seats please!” Mr. Kindling, a lanky man with long, wispy hair and mix-matched spectacles, said loudly over the crowded room.
The boy held out a hand and helped Bohdan to his feet. “Thanks,” Bohdan mumbled before sliding back into his seat. Jone ogled at the new kid as if he were the King of Gallimaufria. Embert and Pyre exchanged nasty smiles. Vexil leaned over and whispered something to Cobran, who responded with an exaggerated cracking of his knuckles.
Unable to control the rowdy children, Mr. Kindling resorted to standing on his rickety desk and waving his arms. “Quiet, everyone, if you please! Dear me, it’s like trying to wrangle Devil’s Hens in malting season. I declare, inmates at Beggar’s Plea have more decorum.”
The man wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead and collected himself with a smile. “Now, first things first. I am delighted to announce that we have a new student with us today. Fedir, would you come up here please?”
The golden-haired boy stood up.
Murmurings and whispers swept across the room. Girls giggled excitedly as some of the older boys sat a little taller. Fedir was nearly as tall as Mr. Kindling. It was hard to tell just how old he was because of his height and intimidating scar. He looked like a warrior in his dark green pants, matching tunic, and brown leather boots.
“Now,” Mr. Kindling began, “Fedir and his family just moved here from the Lushlands. I thought it would be enlightening to learn a bit about a sister territory. Have any of you been outside of the Wastelands before?”
A single hand rose up in the air.
“I’ve been to Chaosity,” Vexil crowed. “I went with my Da last year.”
Liar, thought Bohdan. Vexil would never make it through the Marshlands, and even if he had, he would have made sure every citizen along the Dry Sea had known about it before now.
“Ah, yes, well, you will have to tell us all about it sometime, Mr. Sparks,” said Mr. Kipling before turning his attention back on Fedir. “Now, Mr. Spruce, won’t you tell us a little bit about yourself and your life in the Lushlands?”
The boy pulled his shoulders back and stood at his full height, and Bohdan couldn’t help but be even more intimidated by the young Lushlander, even if he did have a cheeky smile on his face.
“My name is Fedir Spruce,” the boy said with a slight shrug. “I’m fourteen. I just moved here with my family from Orchard’s End.”
A pause of silence was followed by the excited whispers of a few teenage girls sitting at the front tables. Even Lootie shifted in her seat, leaning forward to get a better view.
Mr. Kipling nodded excitedly. “And what did your family do in Orchard’s End?”
“We’re Huntsmen. My father’s family have been Huntsmen for generations.”
“Do you have a bow?” A girl asked with more gusto than the question called for.
“Yeah, I—”
“I thought Huntsmen used whistlers!” Another boy shouted from the back of the room.
Fedir furrowed his eyebrows, clearly surprised by the comment. “You start with a bow and, if you get good enough, you graduate to a whistler. I earned mine right before we moved here.”
“And what, exactly, is a whistler, Mr. Spruce?” asked Mr. Kindling.
“It’s a hunting knife that you throw. It’s small and thin, but lethal. When you throw it just right, it whistles as it sails through the air.”
“But wouldn’t that frighten the animals away?”
“No animal is fast enough to dodge a whistler.” Fedir paused. “Except maybe my Aunt Pinifred.”
A chorus of laughter was followed by the delighted squeals of Lootie and the other girls.
What a hunk!
He’s so handsome. Look at that hair!
And tall too!
“Fender, was it?” Vexil’s oily voice broke into the thrill of chatty girls. Everyone went quiet. “Why would your family leave your ancestral grounds and move to the Wastelands?”
There was something in Vexil’s tone that made Bohdan feel uneasy. He looked over at Fedir, who, to Bohdan’s shock, looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“I don’t really want to —”
“I heard your sister died,” Vexil interrupted, as if this was a terribly funny thing to say. Fedir’s face darkened. He no longer looked sad, but dangerous.
“Vexil,” Mr. Kindling warned. “Fedir, I…I apologize on behalf of Mr. Sparks.”
But Fedir didn’t seem to hear Mr. Kindling at all. He was eyeing Vexil like a cobra. The easy-going boy turned warrior in the blink of an eye.
“I heard you’re from the Pig Sty,” Fedir said cooly, normal color returning to his face. “But I can’t imagine you’ll ever move. They don’t allow pigs anywhere else on account of the stink.”
Gasps and shocked laughter echoed throughout the room. In a span of three minutes, Fedir Spruce had challenged Vexil Sparks twice and won.
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Bohdan and the other students spent time learning about key locations in the Wastelands, the upcoming flood season of the Dry Sea, waspwind safety measures, and King Lors’ favorite ways to use salt. But at long last it was time for their midday break.
A large courtyard with a shaded canopy had been constructed out of dried sandreed next to the schoolhouse. Bohdan watched as a group of girls, Lootie at the lead, flocked around Fedir. He smiled and chatted easily, and Bohdan watched in awe. The Lushlander couldn’t have looked more at home if he tried.
Cobran and Vexil were in their usual place in the far corner, which provided the most shade. It was clear from the look on their faces that Vexil was hatching a plan. Sure enough, the pack of boys strode over to Fedir, who was sandwiched between Lootie and Jone.
Bohdan, along with the rest of the children, watched with bated breath. He knew all too well what Vexil and his gang were capable of. Though Fedir towered over Vexil and Embert, he wasn’t much taller than Cobran and Pyre.
“So,” Vexil said as he swaggered forward. “Just how did she die, Fender? My Da said it was gruesome.”
Fedir stared but said nothing. Jone and Lootie both scooted back, as if they’d be on the receiving end of Vexil’s wrath if they stayed too close.
“He said there was so little left of her, you could fit the pieces in a salt jar.” Vexil kicked the sandy ground, spraying Fedir’s pants and boots. Fedir chuckled and shook his head as he stood. He stepped toward Vexil, who scurried back like a startled hen, but Cobran, Embert and Pyre closed in like thugs.
Safely behind his bodyguards, Vexil crowed all the more. “He said your Da cried like a baby! You're big, Huntsman of a Da bawling like some pathetic little girl.”
Bohdan winced. Even for Vexil, this was malicious. But a strange stillness had settled over Fedir, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Your Da seems to say a lot of things, little Wastey,” Fedir said as he held his head high. “And he sounds like a liar. Or maybe that’s just you.”
Vexil balked as if he’d been smacked in the face with blunt force, but as quickly as the shock came, it went. “He said your ma has gone mad!” Vexil jeered. “She mumbles on and on about being a bad ma, and how she should have listened. That, Wren, was it? Wren’s death is all her fault because she couldn’t hear the music. Like a lunatic!”
“Stop it!” Bohdan was on his feet before he could stop himself.
What in the name of the Ancient Winds was he doing? Sweat poured down his neck and back as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. For the first time in his life, Bohdan had voluntarily made himself a target.
“Well, well, well,” Vexil said slowly as he turned toward Bohdan. “What have we here? Dune the Buffoon finally trying to prove he’s not a coward?”
Bohdan wanted to shrink away into the sand and disappear. But he forced himself to remain where he stood. Vexil had taunted and mocked people before, but what he was saying to Fedir was beyond cruel.
Vexil strutted right up to Bohdan. He leaned over and whispered loudly in his ear, “would you like to join Fender’s little sister?”
Bohdan peered past Vexil at Cobran, but his brother wouldn’t meet his eye. Taking a deep breath, Bohdan steadied himself and met Vexil’s gaze.
“Having a powerful da doesn’t give you the right to be cruel.” His pulse was beating so wildly Bohdan thought he’d faint. Had he completely lost his mind? Was he suffering from a heat spell? Judging by the look on Vexil’ face, along with Cobran, Embert and Pyre, they were all wondering the same thing.
“You think this is cruel?” Vexil asked as he smiled dangerously. “You of all people ought to know better.”
Embert and Pyre sprang into motion, and Bohdan braced himself for what was sure to be the worst beating of his life. But quicker than lightning, Fedir put himself between Bohdan and Vexil’s crew.
“Touch him, and you’ll wish you hadn’t Wastey.” Fedir flashed a winning smile.
“Two against four, Fender,” Vexil sneered. “Really, one and a half. Baby Bohdie’s barely a step above a toasty toad.”
Pyre lumbered forward and swung at the Lushlander, but missed. Fedir ducked then jumped to the side. Embert jabbed, nearly hitting Fedir in the face, but again the boy moved with such agility, it was as if he was made of water. Embert’s punch, intended for Fedir, instead hit Pyre square in the nose, sending him to his knees, howling in pain.
Frustrated, Embert spun around and swung both his fists at Fedir, but was unsuccessful. Fedir ducked then brought his first up into Embert’s chin. The ratty boy blinked, stunned, before collapsing onto the ground.
Bohdan watched in awe-struck wonder. He glanced over at Vexil, whose face paled despite his tanned complexion and the raging heat. No one in the history of Gallimaufria had the guts to take on the kids from the Pig Sty. No one had ever stood a chance.
“What are you waiting for, little Wastey?” Fedir taunted. Vexil stepped behind Cobran, whose usual confidence had waned.
“Show him, Cobran!” Vexil spat, though his voice wasn’t nearly as commanding as before.
Bohdan swallowed as his brother held up his fists. Fedir shook his head and laughed.
“What would your Da say if he knew you let your Pig Sty thugs and a salt-dredger from Ravo fight your battles for you?”
Vexil turned a brilliant shade of red, his eyes wild with fury.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Cobran snarled, but remained rooted to the spot.
Bohdan held his breath.
“Maybe not,” said Fedir. “But you are willing to defend a bully and a coward over your own brother. You’re not worth a minute of my time. Or energy. Come on Bohdan,” Fedir said as he turned back toward the schoolhouse.
Unwilling to offend the fierce Lushlander, Bohdan followed. He could feel Cobran’s eyes boring into him but he didn’t look back.
Mr. Kindling sat alone in the large room, reading an aged book. He startled as the door slammed shut. “Is everything alright, boys?”
Bohdan hesitated. He didn’t want Mr. Kindling to get into trouble. Their last instructor made the mistake of putting Vexil in his place. He was never seen again.
“Vexil and his minions went after Bohdan, sir,” Fedir said nonchalantly. “I took care of it.”
Mr. Kindling’s eyes widened. “I see.”
The instructor was quiet for a long moment. Bohdan could feel the wheels in the man’s head turning.
“Is anyone hurt?” Mr. Kindling asked, his desperation unquestionable.
“Their pride may suffer for a while,” Fedir said with a slight smile. “Vexil is fine, sir.”
“Ah.” Mr. Kindling pursed his lips. Bohdan couldn’t help but wonder if he was fighting a smile too. “Well then, in the future, I would appreciate it if someone would come and get me when…conflict arises. Until then, let’s speak of it no more.”
For the first time in his life Bohdan didn’t walk home from school alone. Fedir had remained at his side for the rest of the school day, and asked if he could join Bohdan when Mr. Kindling dismissed them all.
“Are all Wasteys as chatty as the girls in class?” Fedir asked as he bent down and plucked a stalk of sandreed from a small patch on the side of the road.
“They were more chatty than usual today,” Bohdan said with a grin. “We never get new kids.”
“But that can’t be all of the kids along the Dry Sea, can it?”
Bohdan shook his head. “No, there are a couple other schools. The school you attend depends on where you live. As luck would have it, the richest kids are in the same zone as the poorest kids. The Pig Sty and Ravo are the farthest from Shard.”
The boys walked in silence for a while, though Bohdan didn’t mind it. Solenna was the closest thing he’d ever had to a friend, but he hardly ever saw her.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” Bohdan said quietly. “It wasn’t right of Vexil to say those things about her, or your ma.”
He peered up at Fedir, who once again looked close to tears though none fell.
“Thanks. That little skunk-weasel is lucky my older brothers weren’t there to hear him. Even more lucky my sister Juniper wasn’t there. It would have been the last thing he ever said.”
“You have siblings?”
Fedir laughed. “A few. I’m the fifth of seven boys and the sixth of eleven kids.”
Bohdan stopped dead in his tracks. “Eleven kids?” He couldn’t even wrap his head around so many. “Why didn’t they come with you?”
“We do our schooling at home, but I thought it might be cool to see how things are done in the Wastes.”
“How in the blazes do your parents afford to feed you all?”
“It isn’t hard back home. The Lushlands are overflowing with fish and game and birds. Berries, herbs, fruit.”
“What’s game?”
“Animals. Like glen lions or river bear or boar. Have you ever had boar?”
Bohdan shook his head. “No, but I’m pretty sure I live with one.”
“You mean Cobran?”
“Yeah.”
Fedir threw back his head and laughed. He had the kind of jolly laugh that made you want to join in too and before they knew it, both boys were bent over, howling with laughter. The truth was, these precious boys had few reasons to laugh at all. And when life is hard for long seasons of time, it’s all too easy to forget that laughter is like a balm to the weary bones of your soul. With each belly-filled cackle, they felt more and more like the young boys they were and less like the burdened brothers they’d become.
They reached Bohdan’s house just as Ma was returning with the goats. She smiled wide as she looked from Bohdan to Fedir. “Who’s your friend, Bohdie?”
“Ma, this is Fedir Spruce. His family just moved here from the Lushlands.”
Ma held out a hand and shook Fedir’s. “A pleasure, Fedir. I hope your first day was alright.”
The boys looked at each other knowingly.
Fedir shrugged. “It was…memorable to say the least, Mrs. Dune.”
“I see.” Ma smiled at Bohdan, but he was careful not to give anything away. “Well, I hope we’ll see more of you, Fedir. Welcome to the Wastelands.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Well, I’ll see you around Bohdan. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dune.”
Fedir gave a quick nod before continuing down the road that led up the Ridge to the Pig Sty.
“Wait!” Bohdan called out to Fedir, puzzled. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “You live in the Pig Sty?”
Fedir rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”
“But…why?”
“It’s the only place with houses big enough to fit everybody. I’d rather live here. See ya.”
As Bohdan watched him go, he wondered what it would have been like to grow up with an older brother like Fedir. Let alone having so many.
“Lushlanders have money to spare, love. Huntsmen could pave the streets in gold coin should they wish it,” Ma said as the last of the goats hurried inside. “He seems like a good kid.”
“He’s dead meat is what he is.”
Bohdan’s heart sank. Cobran kicked at small pebbles in the sand as he approached the house.
Ma stopped him at the door. “What do you mean?”
Ignoring Ma, Cobran glared at Bohdan. “Your Lushlander friend made a mistake today.”
“Why?” said Bohdan. “For humbling the town bullies?”
“No. For being your friend.” Cobran gave Bohdan a hard shove, sending him sprawling into the ground. Bohdan cried out as his elbow split open against the wall of the house. Ma gasped and intercepted before Cobran could do anything else.
“What has gotten into you?” Ma’s voice was thick with emotion. “You’ve forced my hand, Cobran. You won’t be helping the Sparks. Go inside.”
“What?” Cobran spat. “You can’t do that!”
“I can and I will.”
Cobran kicked sand into Bohdan’s face. “I hate you,” he snarled before narrowing his dark eyes at Ma. “Both of you.”
To be continued…
Tune in next week for Chapter Six! Thank you for reading along. It means so much to me. I know what a commitment it is to sit and read, and I appreciate it dearly.
“We Wait on the Winds.”
-Periwinkle