Chapter Six: The Ridge
Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales
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I am happy to report the next few days passed by uneventfully for young Bohdan. In his fury Cobran behaved as if Bohdan and Ma didn’t exist. Firewinds continued to blow across the wastes without mercy. Twice, Fedir stopped by with a couple of desert hares he’d caught near the Pig Sty.
But for now Bohdan sat in the Dredge House, soaked with sweat as he packed freshly cured salt into multicolored glass jars. The enormous mud brick building was comprised of one large room filled with four long rectangular tables. Each table hosted eighty children and each child was expected to pack a hundred jars before the day’s end.
Four glass belts, not dissimilar to slides, protruded from the far left wall and ran the length of each table providing the Dredgers with salt. Each Dredger was supplied with a small clay scoop to then pack the salt into jars. One could use their hands, but hours upon hours of packing salt resulted in painfully dry skin and oozing sores. Any blood spilled onto the salt resulted in an excruciating beating at the post outside. And so, most Dredgers opted to use their scoops even if it meant the job passed by more slowly.
The assembly lines of children seated at the tables would have surprised passersby, as not a sound could be heard aside from the scooping and packing of salt. Laughing was strictly forbidden. Tomfoolery punishable by beating. Talking? Resolutely out of the question.
Every now and then the scraping of a stool followed by the collapsing of a body signaled another child falling victim to exertion, hunger or overheating. Or all three. When that happened, Shocker Tom, the toothless, balding Pig who oversaw the Dredge House, would douse the young Dredger with a bucket of rancid reedwater and laugh all the while. Reedwater, if you didn’t know, was a bitter, fermented attempt at ale and I highly recommend avoiding it at all costs.
And this is how Bohdan, and the desperately poor children of the Wastelands, spent their days. A rusted, weary-looking fan whirred from the ceiling above, but it did little to combat the stifling heat. The windows were dusty and dirty, creating a dull and depressing light. Shocker Tom sauntered around, singing old Gallimaufrian folksongs in a gravelly, off-pitch voice in-between swigs from a flask.
Bohdan’s shoulders ached but he’d learned long ago not to complain. To his right, Dusty, a young boy of four or five wept softly as he rubbed his eyes and massaged his tiny, swollen hands. Peering up to make sure Shocker Tom was occupied, Bohdan pulled a small lidded jar from his pants pocket. Tapping Dusty on the shoulder, Bohdan opened the vessel and placed it on the worktable.
“For your hands,” he whispered.
The tear-streaked boy scooped out some of the white salve and rubbed it all over his swollen fingers. A wide smile broke out over his reddened face. He handed the jar back to Bohdan. But Bohdan shook his head.
“No. You keep it.”
The final bell rang just as Bohdan packed his hundredth jar. He looked over. Dusty still had ten jars on the worktable. Shocker Tom was making his way across the room, ensuring everyone hit their quota.
“Quick,” Bohdan whispered. “If we hurry we can get them filled before Shocker Tom gets here.”
Bohdan hustled as he’d never hustled before. Seeing kids get thwacked for not filling enough jars was unpleasant enough, but it was especially heartbreaking when they were as young as Dusty.
Abandoning their scoops, Bohdan and Dusty were down to the final jar when Shocker Tom approached their table. Dusty gasped. Bohdan looked over to see a bright red splatter of blood in the child’s last salt jar, a glistening sore on his index finger. Shocker Tom’s thundering footsteps drew nearer. Before he could think better of it, Bohdan swapped the bloodied jar with one of his own.
“Well, well, well.” Shocker Tom’s greasy voice made the hair on Bohdan’s neck stand on end. “What have we here?”
The Pig grabbed the soiled jar from Bohdan’s work space and chucked it against the wall. Shattered glass and grains of salt sprayed everywhere. The already quiet room fell into utter silence. Bohdan peered down at Dusty, whose eyes were filled with terrified tears, and mouthed it’s okay.
Shocker Tom yanked Bohdan from his stool and threw him onto the ground. Bohdan grit his teeth through the pain.
“You’re lucky it’s too blazing windy to drag you to the post, little sandworm,” Shocker Tom snarled as he grabbed the putrid bucket of reedwater. “But a good little bath ought to set you to rights.”
Hot, foul-smelling sludge hit Bohdan in the face. From his hair to his boots, the wet stench of syrupy reedwater soaked him through. Dead flies and sand hoppers who’d met their end in the bucket now clung to his skin and clothes. Shocker Tom howled with laughter as he continued down the table, counting off the jars.
The walk home from the Dredge House was as miserable as you could imagine. The stink and the sticky residue of Shocker Tom’s bucket made Bohdan’s inside’s squirm. As exhausting as it had been the day before to bring water down from the Wasting Well for their storage jars, Bohdan was now emphatically grateful. He’d be able to scrub himself clean as soon as he got home instead of trekking up the hill.
The bleating of goats greeted him as he stepped into the house. Ma stood in the kitchen, making more salve from sunweed leaves and goat’s milk. She glanced up at him and her smile vanished. “What happened to you?”
“Shocker Tom’s bucket.”
“Did you faint?”
Bohdan shook his head. “No. Blood in the salt.”
“Where is your salve?”
“I gave it to Dusty, a little boy from Shard. His fingers were as red as flame flowers.”
Ma nodded in pained understanding. “Go on and wash yourself. There’s a freshly cleaned tunic and pants hanging on the line upstairs.”
Bohdan scrubbed himself clean in the washroom. He had to fill the washtub twice to get the sludge and stench out of his hair and skin. Wrapping a clean towel around his waist, he made his way up to the roof to retrieve his clothes.
A large dome of woven sandreed encircled the flat rooftop. Ma must have spent the day readying the house for the waspwinds. The dome was thin enough for sunlight to still penetrate through to the plants, but tight enough the raging hoards wouldn’t be able to swoop down and eat their rooftop garden. The enormous pots of waterberry bushes, the climbing vines of sunweed, a few baby cactrees, fire garlic, flame flowers, dune onions, an array of succulents Ma used for different medicines and salves covered nearly every inch of space.
Hanging on a line of rope running the length of the roof were three new sets of clothes. It was easy to decipher his own by the size. A burnt orange set for Bohdan, a golden yellow set for Cobran, and a cream colored set for Ma.
It had been ages since he’d gotten new clothes, not that he was complaining. He slipped the fresh tunic, pants, and undershorts on and felt like a new human. The fabric was so soft and light, he still felt a bit naked. Dressed and clean, Bohdan shimmied down the ladder into the kitchen.
Ma motioned to the table, where a feast for three had been set. It was a giant step up from the three strips of cactree jerky Bohdan had snagged before rushing out the door that morning. Ma’s special glass pitcher from Shard, filled to the brim with waterberry juice. Roasted desert hare with flame flower jelly. Fresh goat cheese with fire garlic and sandreed crackers. A platter of hard-boiled quail eggs sprinkled with Wasteland chili powder.
“Is Cobran here yet?”
“Not yet.” Ma shrugged as she poured the finished salve into tiny jars. “What’s going on with the two of you, Bohdie? What happened that day at school?”
Bohdan hung his head. He knew this conversation was coming eventually. He and Ma were rarely alone and so he’d managed to avoid it. Sighing, Bohdan chose his words carefully as he sat down at the table.
“Well…Fedir’s sister died, and I think it was pretty bad…how it happened. Vexil was saying horrible things about her and Fedir’s ma. In front of everyone, and I told him to stop. I said just because he has a powerful da it doesn’t give him the right to be cruel.”
Ma frowned. “Then what happened?”
“Vexil and his crew turned on me, but Fedir stopped them. Knocked down Pyre and Embert with one punch.”
“And your brother?”
Bohdan shook his head. “Fedir said Vexil was a coward, and Cobran wasn’t worth his time or energy.”
“Why not?”
Bohdan’s heart raced. He’d rather have to pack a thousand jars of salt than have this conversation. “Because Cobran chose to defend a bully instead of his own brother.”
Ma’s face fell, though she continued with the jars. She looked as though his words had punched her in the heart.
“Please don’t tell Cobran.”
“Bohdan, of course I have to say something.”
“Please, Ma. I don’t want Vexil to do anything worse to Fedir than he already has planned.”
“Fedir’s da has more money than Viscio Sparks could ever hope to have in a hundred lifetimes,” Ma rebutted. “Vexil can’t touch Fedir.”
Relief washed over Bohdan like a soft wind. If there is one thing able to keep the Sparks and Pigs in line, its gold coin.
“But still…” Bohdan rubbed his hands together nervously. “Cobran already doesn’t like me. You heard him yourself. He hates me now.”
Ma’s eyes reddened. She stacked the jars neatly on the shelf and cleared her throat. “Cobran doesn’t hate you, love. He hates himself.”
Bohdan blinked. “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, Ma came and sat beside him at the table. “Cobran gets pleasure from putting others down because it takes the focus off of his own pain. His own shortcomings. I was like that once.”
“You?” Bohdan asked, stunned. “But…you’re nothing like Cobran. You’re patient and kind. You’re always breaking up fights. You never start them. And you’re always helping people.”
Ma shook her head. “I wasn’t a good sister for a long time, Bohdie. When my own ma died, I realized how much time I’d wasted ruling over my sister instead of loving her. That’s not a lesson you’ll ever have to learn.”
Bohdan’s brain spun at a million miles an hour. Sister? Ma had a sister? She never talked about her past. Ever. The only family she’d ever mentioned was ancient Aunt Irenie in Teller’s Point.
“You’ve always loved your brother,” Ma continued. “It’s not your job to fix Cobran. It’s not even your job to protect him. Leave that to the Winds and me. But you can help him, Bohdie.”
“Me? How?”
“Continue being you,” Ma smiled sadly. “Ora was always good to me even when I didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t always an older sister she could look up to. I was angry at my own da. Angry at myself, at the world.. But I’m grateful I learned my lesson before it was too late. Ora and I grew very close before she died.”
“Listen, I’m proud of you, Bohdie. Sticking up for Fedir was the right thing to do. Vexil Sparks is a coward and a cruel boy, but he learned it from his da. Goodness and kindness are becoming rarer than rain. What you have or don’t have isn’t what makes a person worth their salt. Character and courage, son, that’s what matters. You can’t choose your name, but you can choose what comes to people’s minds when they hear it.”
Bohdan was at a loss for words. The more he learned, the more things changed, the less secure he felt.
“Why haven’t you ever talked about her? About Ora.”
Ma reached out and gently rested a hand on Bohdan’s arm. “I’ve been running from the past for as long as I can remember. I should have known sooner or later it would catch up with me. And now, your brother runs from it too.”
Bohdan startled as a soft knocking came from the front door. A few goats bleated, as if annoyed by the audacity of an uninvited guest. Bohdan hurried over and pulled open the door. His heart exploded.
“Solenna.”
He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and she looked so beautiful. Her long raven hair fell to her waist. She wore a wide-brimmed hat of woven sandreed and a russet dress that rested just below her knees. She clutched her goatherdess hook in one hand and a small jug in the other.
“Hi Bohdan.” Solenna smiled and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. “May I come in?”
“Yeah! Sure. I mean…yes. Please, come. In.”
Cheeks blazing, Bohdan stepped aside. As he closed the door, he caught the subtlest whiff of flame flowers and waterberries. Solenna looked back and met his gaze. She didn’t say a thing, but Bohdan might has well have been stung by a blaze beetle. An excited warmth made his heart pound as if he’d just won a race.
“Solenna,” Ma embraced the girl in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. To what do we owe this lovely surprise?”
Solenna looked back and forth between Bohdan and Ma. The smell of flame flowers washed over him with each turn of her head, driving Bohdan to distraction.
“It’s about Cobran,” Solenna said at last.
Bohdan blinked. Hearing Cobran’s name come out of Solenna’s mouth felt like being doused with Shocker Tom’s reedwater bucket all over again. What did Solenna need to talk about Cobran for? A mortifying thought struck him in the chest.
Did Solenna have feelings for his brother?
Feeling suddenly ill, Bohdan followed Ma and Solenna into the kitchen and took a seat. The beautiful feast sat, now forgotten. Solenna looked unsure of herself, twirling her thick black hair in her fingers nervously. Her dark eyes met Bohdan’s and heat rushed into his cheeks despite himself.
“What is it, love?” Ma asked gently.
“I don’t want to worry you, Mrs. Dune,” Solenna began, “but, I saw Cobran up on the Ridge.”
Ma stood. “When?”
“Maybe an hour ago? I was following a stray goat when I saw him. He looked like he was listening for something. He was climbing toward the caves.”
“Did you speak to him?” Ma asked.
“Yes. I called down to him and said he shouldn’t go near the caves this late in the season. The winds are so strong he could be blown off. It was hard to hear him over the wind, but it sounded like he said, ‘can you hear the music? Then he kept climbing.”
Bohdan looked back and forth between Ma and Solenna, but no one said a word. Everyone knew the Dune kids were strictly forbidden from going anywhere near the caves. Had Cobran completely lost his mind?
“Thank you, Solenna,” Ma said, finally. “I appreciate you telling us. Do you have anyone to walk you home?”
“My Uncle is trading with the Skorch’s down the road. He’ll take me back from there.”
Ma exhaled. “Good. Now, you go straight home, and don’t leave your uncle’s side when you cross the dunes. Understood?”
Solenna gave her word and got up to leave. Bohdan walked her to the door. It felt like a rock had lodged itself in his chest. His tongue always turned to rubber when Solenna was around. He managed a later, see ya, to which Solenna giggled and hurried away up the street. Bohdan waited to make sure she met up with her uncle on the Skorch’s doorstep. She turned around and waved before disappearing into the house.
Ma was lacing up her boots when Bohdan returned to the kitchen. “I need to borrow your goggles, Bohdie,” she asked without looking up. Bohdan slid them from his neck and handed them to her.
“Eat some dinner. Keep the doors locked. No matter what happens, under no circumstances are you to leave this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ma.”
Ma gave him a tight hug. “I love you Bohdie. I’ll be back.”
Bohdan knew Cobran had tried to reach the caves before. Ma had caught him en route and as a consequence, Cobran wasn’t allowed to leave Ma’s side for a month. Oh, how Cobran had tried everything he could to break her. Scaring the goats, shouting at Ma and calling her foul names, kicking over a day’s worth of milk jugs, but Ma won out in the end.
A small prick of fear scratched at his chest as he locked the door. What if Cobran had finally gone too far and got hurt? Really hurt? No one survived being blown off the Ridge.
Bohdan shook his head. No, Cobran was angry. He had been humiliated in front of the whole school. He’d been called a bad brother and counted amongst the cowards. He’d lost his chance at making gold coin from the Sparks and he needed to punish someone for it. Cobran would give Ma a good scare and then come swaggering back home as if nothing had happened.
Bohdan made himself a plate of food, then packed the rest for Ma and Cobran for when they returned. Clean, full and alone, the events of the day rapidly caught up with him. He went into Ma’s room beside the front door and before Bohdan knew it, he fell into a deep sleep. Completely unaware of how very wrong he was.
Thanks for reading along! Tune in next Monday for the next chapter of Bohdan Dune and the Perilum Tales.
“We Wait on the Winds.”
-Periwinkle