Chapter Nine: The Gorge
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
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Happy reading!
Two days time had never passed so slowly. After Marco settled Ma into her bed, Bohdan had run all the way to Shard to retrieve Noreena, an old healer. Too frail to walk, Bohdan pulled her the two miles back to Ravo in a rickey little wagon.
Equipped with the best herbs and plants from the rooftop garden, and Noreena’s gentle hands, Ma’s cuts had been expertly cleaned and her broken wrist set. Bohdan pulled Cobran’s mat down from their loft and situated Noreena downstairs in Ma’s room. Unnerved by the quiet, Bohdan moved his own mat down into the kitchen beside the goats.
“Is she getting any better?” Bohdan asked as Noreena tipped tiny spoonfuls of broth into Ma’s mouth. Ma hadn’t fully awoken once since the horrible ordeal, but as long a she drew breath, Bohdan was grateful.
“The rest is good for her,” Noreena insisted. “Her breathing is strong. Her skin no longer feverish. There is nothing left to do but wait for her to return to us.”
“Thank you for being here, Noreena. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
The old woman glanced up, regret stitched into her crepey skin. “I wish I could stay longer, but I’m needed at Beggar’s Plea in a week’s time. To restock the clinic there.”
“But,” Bohdan began, “what if she’s not better by then?”
Noreena hung her head, “let’s hope that she will be.”
Fear coursed through Bohdan’s heart like a sandslide. What if Ma got worse while Noreena was away? But then a thought struck like a stinging wasp.
Aunt Irenie.
“We have family in Teller’s Point.”
Noreena gave Bohdan her full attention. “It takes two days to reach Teller’s Point.”
“Two days to get there, two days to get back. I can have Aunt Irenie here before they need you at the prison.”
“Have you ever traveled to Teller’s Point, son? It isn’t for the faint of heart.”
Bohdan bit his lip. He stared down at Ma. Beautiful, broken Ma. “I know the way. I’m the best in my class in geography. Two days south across the Stretch. The Wastelands are so narrow down there, you can’t miss it.”
It is worth noting here, dear reader, that adults in the Wastelands do not fret over the safety of children as they do in our world. Odetta Dune being the rare exception. And so, Noreena shook her head then shrugged. “May the Winds bless you and keep you.”
The sun was relentless. Thankfully Bohdan’s goggles kept the copious amount of sweat from dripping into his eyes. With each exhausting step he became alarmingly aware why Wastelanders referred to this bit of the wastes as “the stretch,” as the endless sand stretched ever on like a sea of orange.
A screech cried out overhead. Bohdan scanned the sky and perched atop a particularly enormous cactree was a fierce golden bird. Birds were a rarity in the Wastelands, limited to Devil’s Hens, vultures and the odd Dust Owl. Golden Falcons were so rare, most believed them to be extinct.
The falcon glared down at him. The last thing Bohdan needed was for the lethal creature to decide he looked like an easy lunch. He continued forward, peering back every once in a while to see if the falcon was still perched on the cactree.
Taking a sip from his canteen, Bohdan wondered what kind of person Aunt Irenie would be. Ma had only mentioned her a handful of times, but he’d always imagined her being older than time itself with hair as white as moonlight.
The bird screeched again and flew right past Bohdan’s face. Tripping over his own feet, he stumbled forward, rolling head over heels until landing flat on his face. He groaned. A long slice across his knee glistened against his skin, his pants torn. But the pain was soon forgotten.
The ground was rumbling.
Tiny pebbles in the sand danced like blaze beetles in a frying pan. Bohdan leapt to his feet and scrambled up the side of a small dune. His heart stopped.
An armada of stampeding wasterbeasts were headed straight for him, followed closely by a thick, buzzing black cloud taking up nearly the entire sky.
A waspwind.
The great beasts groaned, some foaming at the mouth, as they pushed their powerful bodies forward. The animals in the back were slowly being overtaken by the swarm of buzzing wasps.
Bohdan turned and ran for dear life. The falcon zipped right in front of him, screeching all the while. The bird rose into the air and then nose-dived toward the ground, but instead of smashing into the sand it disappeared.
Blinking his eyes furiously, Bohdan forced himself forward. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his body as he pumped his arms and legs so savagely, he thought they’d tear away.
Then, he saw it. A giant chasm appeared out of nowhere. Bohdan skidded to a stop just before toppling over the edge. Brilliant blue water rushed below like a ribbon cutting through the bright orange walls of the gorge.
It was a forty-foot drop at least. But even if there was no drop at all, Bohdan couldn’t swim. He’d meet his death one way or the other. Trampled to death by the stampeding wasterbeasts, stung to death by the angry wasps or drowned in the gorge.
The ground shook ferociously. He turned around. The wave of wasterbeasts and buzzing wall of wasps were right on his heels.
A flash of gold swooped in front of his face. The falcon flew up once more, cawing angrily, before diving back down into the gorge.
Closing his eyes, Bohdan jumped.
The air whipped through his hair and his clothes as he sailed toward the river, filling his belly with the sensation of a hundred fluttering blaze-beetles. He plunged into the water. Salty wetness filled his mouth as he instinctively flailed his arms and kicked his legs. Miraculously, he burst through the water’s surface, coughing in loud raspy breaths.
The river rushed him on and somehow, he floated through no effort of his own. His legs and arms were stretched out as if he rested on a mat made of water, his goggles amazingly still secured to his face.
The falcon soared overhead, following the flow of the river. He peered up up at the clifface. The wasterbeasts groaned and kicked irritably as the waspwind sailed across the gorge as if it wasn’t even there.
He wasn’t dead. He could see. He was floating.
He could hardly believe his luck.
The hours drifted by. The soft rocking of the water combined with the lukewarm temperature was so relaxing Bohdan nearly drifted off to sleep more than once. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the river, whirring and rushing with the occasional crackle of a falling piece of the gorge’s rock walls.
Every once in a while the falcon would swoop down and caw, jolting him awake. He’d long abandoned trying to reach the edge of the river. Even if he could, there was nothing for him to swim to. Both sides of the river were bordered by rock.
But slowly another sound seemed to rumble from the river itself. And, unless he was imagining it, the current was rushing him forward much faster than it had before.
Bohdan opened his eyes and gazed up at the top of the gorge. From what he could tell, no stampedes or swarms of waspwinds were gathering above, but still the sound grew until the river reverberated with it.
He lifted his head up out of the water as far as he was able. A massive white cloud loomed overhead, though the walls of the gorge vanished into thin air. He tried to make sense of it when the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding wasterbeast.
Deadman Falls.
The falcon was shrieking wildly now. Bohdan spotted it perched on an exposed root jutting out from the rock wall, just before the edge of the falls. It flapped its wings and screeched from its perch.
Bohdan rolled over onto his stomach and kicked with all his might as he clawed his arms into the water. A series of long roots spilled into the river from the wall. He just needed to grab one.
His arms and legs ached as he pumped his limbs. Salt water spilled into his mouth each time he tried to take a deep breath. Sputtering and gasping, the relentless force of the waterfall pulled at him like the hands of a giant.
Bohdan plunged his head below the surface and propelled himself towards the roots until his limbs were ablaze. He felt his hand collide with something rough and spindly. Grabbing a hold for dear life, Bohdan pulled himself into the mess of roots, and didn’t stop until he was safely perched beside the falcon.
Gasping, Bohdan leaned his head back and stared up at the blissfully calm blue sky.
“You couldn’t have warned me a little sooner?”
The bird cocked its head to the side.
Bohdan laughed and held a hand to his chest to slow his breathing. He glanced back and just below the tangle of roots a hidden ledge skirted all the way down to the bottom of the gorge. Bohdan’s mouth went as dry as a loaf of sandreed bread.
The river was so far below it looked like little more than a line of ink. He was hundreds of feet above the bottom of the falls. Gigantic, jagged rocks pierced into the white cloud of mist and Bohdan shuddered at what would have become of him had he gone over.
“Down we go then,” he said more cheerfully than he felt, “but let's wait until my legs stop shaking.”
Bohdan carefully picked his way over the roots and lowered himself down onto the ledge. He pressed his back against the rockwall and shimmied his way along, stepping sideways.
Right. Left. Right. Left.
Some portions were so narrow, the tips of Bohdan’s boots stuck out into the open air. His palms slickened with sweat and his vision blurred. Once more the falcon swooped over and cawed gently, snapping him back into reality. He pressed his head back against the wall and forced himself to keep moving.
Right. Left. Right. Left.
The winds howled as the occasional stray wasp zipped here and there. He tried singing songs and listing off Gallimaufrian cities to distract himself until, finally, he reached the bottom of the dreadful ledge. The pale blue water drifted by lazily, carving its way through the widening gorge. Thick sand banks allowed for decently easy walking. In the distance he could just make out a large orange rock formation, like an enormous termite hill.
His watchful companion swooped down, narrowly missing his face before jetting off towards the mysterious structure. He waited for the falcon to turn around. He’d gotten used to its company, but it continued on.
The roar of the falls grew, standing the hairs of his neck on end. Alone and exhausted, Bohdan was overwhelmed with the urge to turn back. To return to Ravo and forget this whole crazy business. He couldn’t do this alone! What was he thinking?
But a great surge of wind blew, nearly picking Bohdan up off his feet and drove him forward. As if the very wind was determined to see him through.
Bohdan peered back at the booming falls. He made it this far and he wouldn’t turn back now. He had escaped a waspwind, a stampede of wasterbeasts, and survived Deadman Falls.
He owed it to Ma to try.
Tune in next time for the next chapter of Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales!
“We Wait on the Wind”
-Periwinkle Twist